Sharona pulled up to the private college later that evening. She sat there for a while, idly tapping a nail against the steering wheel.

She had been informed by her sources that Ivy had enrolled in evening classes. Evening classes. How quaint. How very small-town of her. If Winn wasn’t going to listen, then Ivy damn well would.

One way or another, she wasn’t planning on giving up.

When she spotted the flow of students trickling out, Sharona straightened up, sliding out of her car in one smooth, theatrical motion.

Ivy waved goodbye to her classmates, the faint laughter of their goodbyes echoing into the dimming air. She stretched, rubbing her neck as she glanced toward the security detail stationed discreetly near the gates.

Her bodyguard was impossible to miss once you knew what to look for. He always stayed far enough to give her space but close enough to reach her in a heartbeat if things went sideways.

As she turned to wait for her grandfather to pick her up, Ivy froze. Oh what fresh hell is this, she thought, tasting bile and adrenaline at once.

"Miss Priestley. What are you doing here?" Ivy said.

"It’s Mrs. Kane, you worthless, husband-stealing bitch!" Sharona snapped.

"Some things won’t change, will they? You will always be bitter and threatened," Ivy shot back, the control in her tone brittle. "I am going to save you the trouble of going into your drift. I don’t care about your husband, I don’t want your husband. And please do me the favour of keeping him far, far away from me."

But Sharona’s fingers were faster than Ivy expected; she reached out and caught Ivy’s arm in a grip that was all insolence and intent. The touch made Ivy’s blood run hot with fury; it reignited every small dread she’d felt since the night she was attacked. At the same moment, Ivy’s bodyguard shifted, feet uncoiling as he started to sprint toward them.

Ivy was done being the animal in a cage that other people opened and closed at will. She shoved Sharona so hard the other woman lurchedback, one hand clutching at air to catch herself. Ivy stepped forward, the heat in her chest turning to ice-lined fury. "You touch me one more time, you put your hands on me one more time, and I will bury you, bitch."

Sharona was quickly taken aback. This Ivy had changed. Her shoulders squared with quiet strength, her chin tilted in defiance. Sharona’s gaze flicked to the man standing protectively behind Ivy. A sense of irritation pulsed through her chest. So she travels with muscle now. How very important of her. Sharona steadied herself, forcing her painted lips into a mocking smile.

"You still haven’t comprehended who you’re messing with," she said. "I do not make empty threats, honey. If I find even the faintest whiff of you around my husband...you are done."

Ivy’s guard shifted his stance. But Ivy raised a single hand—calm, poised, a queen dismissing chaos. She didn’t even look at him, and the subtle authority in that small gesture made Sharona’s jaw tighten.

"Redirect that threat to your husband," Ivy said.

"He has nothing to do with this!" Sharona shot back. "You are the one parading yourself around him like the pole dancing slut that you are!"

"Why don’t you just work harder at making yourself more appealing to him," she said, tilting her head slightly, her eyes gleaming. "I suggest you try pole dancing yourself. Seemed to work wonders for me."

Sharona stepped closer. "You bitch!" Sharona hissed.

Sharona was seething now, trembling from head to toe.

"Mr. Everest is here, Miss Morales," the guard said quietly. "You should go."

Ivy saw the car her grandfather was being driven in pull up to the curb. The driver stepped out immediately and opened the back door. Relief washed through her—an anchor after the storm that was Sharona Kane. She turned to give the woman one last look. "Well, see you never, Mrs. Kane," she said sweetly.

Sharona, however, wasn’t done. "You should have stayed dead!" she spat before storming off, her hair swinging dramatically over her shoulder.

Ivy just stood still. Stayed dead. "What a delight," she muttered under her breath before walking up to the waiting car. By the time she reached the car, she’d managed to paste her signature grin back on.

"Hey, Gramps," she greeted, sliding into the plush leather interior.

Sam turned slightly, his face lighting up at the sight of her. "Who was that?" he asked.

"Oh, that?" Ivy said, shrugging as if it were nothing. "It’s Winn’s wife."

Sam’s brow furrowed. "Let me guess—it wasn’t a friendly visit."

Ivy chuckled, leaning back in her seat. "What gave it away?" she teased. "Did you get me ice cream?" she asked after a beat.

"Of course, love."

"Ugh, I love you," Ivy said, eyes lighting up as he handed her the small paper bag. She took it eagerly, rummaging through. The cold touch of the container brought an instant comfort to her palm.

But as she dug in with the tiny plastic spoon, Sharona’s last words replayed in her mind, looping over and over. You should have stayed dead.

*****

Later that night, Ivy sat on her bed, legs tucked under the sheets. Her hair was down, tumbling over her shoulders as she absentmindedly scrolled through social media.

Her phone pinged, the number on the screen made her freeze. She hadn’t saved the number in her new device, but she didn’t need to. She could recognize it in her sleep.

Winn.

She blinked, staring at the digits as her pulse began to race. She exhaled slowly, then tapped to open the message, her heart thudding.

Her thumb hovered over the screen as the text appeared.

: What are you wearing?

"What the hell..." she muttered. Of all the nerve.

Me: How did you get this number?

She fired the text off with a little too much force, her thumb pressing hard on the send button.