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“Why? So you could bend the meeting toyouragenda?” Ivy spat, standing tall as she slipped from the cab. She was done being intimidated by this woman, done having her past used as ammunition against her. She was a survivor, not a victim, and she was done allowing Mrs Taylor let her feel like she was something to be scraped off the heel of her designer shoe.
“It’s called common courtesy.”
“Youwant to talk about common courtesy? Common courtesy isnotattacking someone over their choice of wedding dress in front of their brunch buddies. Common courtesy is not going behind my back and changing every detail of my wedding.” Ivy blinked, willing back the burn of tears that surfaced with her anger. The large box was a blessing, preventing her from clenching her fists, preventing her from letting Mrs Taylor see exactly how much her actions had affected her. “Common courtesy isnotmaking someone feel ashamed for surviving, and publicly humiliating them for baring scars. I just pray you never spoke to Miles like that about his.”
“Hiswere earned honourably,” she snapped haughtily.
“So. Were. Mine. They’re a testament to my will to survive. I may not have been sent to war, but I fought harder than someone like you could ever understand to be standing here today. I am every bit the warrior your son is, and despite whatyousay, Iamworthy of him.
“It’s you who isn’t worthy. You don’t deserve him, you don’t deserve me, and I don’t deserve to be treated like a piece of trash.” She thrust the box towards her. “This ismywedding. I’m done with playing nice. I’m done listening to your jibes, and I’m done with you. You can take that god-awful dress and shove it.”
“How much?” Mrs Taylor asked flatly, taking the box and placing it aside on a small table just inside the door.
Her sudden question took Ivy by surprise, left her speechless for a second, her lips parted as another emotion flooded through her, one she couldn’t name. Pity? Disgust mingled with sympathy? She wasn’t sure, but it was new, and for the first time, it made the woman before her seem… small. “I beg your pardon?” Oh, Ivy knew what she was asking alright, but she had to hear it. Hear her speak the words.
“How much to walk away?” Mrs Taylor stepped away from the door, opening a small drawer from some kind of cabinet just out of view. When she returned, Ivy felt her blood boil. She could feel the dragon breath burning in her stomach at the sight of the chequebook held open in her hand, her fingers gripping a pen, signing one of the papers inside. “Actually, it doesn’t matter. Just fill in the blank.” She tore a cheque from the book, extending it towards her.
“You’re disgusting,” Ivy spat, straightening her shoulders, hands clenched at her side so tightly she could feel the strain of her nails biting into her palms.
“I’mdisgusting?” Mrs Taylor stressed, straightening slightly, as if to mirror Ivy, her hand patting her hair, grooming herself as if she was the image of perfection. “I wasn’t the one on my knees being used, begging for it, pleading, all too eager to please anyone who was standing before me with a dick in their hands. You’re nothing but a cheap whore, a taint on our name.”
“Then it’s a good job we’re not takingyourname, isn’t it?” Ivy barbed, surprised her voice didn’t betray the pain in her chest, the shame she felt flooding through her. Because one thing was blatantly obvious from those comments, Mrs Taylor had seen the footage. A single trickle of sweat traced an icy path down her back as a sudden realisation hit her. “My God, it was you.”
The shock that flashed across the woman’s indignant expression said everything. “I don’t know what you’re—”
“Oh, it all makes perfect sense. You knew when the announcement was being placed and wanted to make sure another story caught the public’s eye. You knew when Miles was leaving, and the layout of the garage. You’re the only person who had access to the files your husband confiscated. You wanted to… what? Humiliate me? Drive me away? Send me back to my lowest? Then what? I knew you thought yourself above me, but I never thought you were evil, not until today.” Ivy turned on her heel to leave. “You know what?” she said calmly, looking over her shoulder. “You don’t need to worry about the wedding anymore,” a slight smile of triumph twitched the corner of Mrs Taylor’s lips as Ivy paused for effect, “because you won’t be there.”
“I’ll ruin you.” the warning was low, deep and dripping with venom. “You think those are the only photos I have?”
Ivy pulled her phone from her bag, turning it towards her just long enough for Mrs Taylor to see the voice recording app open, recording. Ivy’s fingers skimmed across the screen, dialling a number. “Is that Miss Barnski? Good. It’s Ivy Sinclair. Remember how I promised you an exclusive if I ever felt ready to talk about my abduction?” Ivy kept her eyes glued to Mrs Taylor, watching the woman before her shrink and pale. “I’m ready. You have my address. I’ll be home all evening, so come whenever you’re free.”
Ivy pulled open the taxi door, fighting back the tremors that threatened to take hold. This woman didn’t get to think she affected her. Not anymore. “You wouldn’t dare. You’ll humiliate yourself, have your shame printed for all to see.”
“Better than a venomous cow like you lording it over me. It’s not my shame, it’s my story, and I survived.Hemay have been a savage beast, butyou, you’re a monster.”
Ivy slammed the car door behind her. She was done letting her past dictate the future. She would tell her story, use it to reach out to others who may need help. The air of the cab was stifling, each breath seemed to pull the space closer around her, giving rise to claustrophobia as the cab shrank before her gaze with each intake of hot, stifling air. She wound the window down, the flood of cool air inflated the world around her, carrying sound from the open door. A familiar male voice addressed Mrs Taylor with a cold tone. “Is it true…” his words faded as the gravel of the driveway crunched beneath the tyres. She swiped away the few angry tears that had escaped to slip down her cheeks.
She was ready to move on, to embrace her future with Miles, and to do that, it was time to leave the past where it belonged, to release the hold it had on her. She was done walking past the newsstands with dread in case another picture of her appeared, or another piece of leaked information exposed her torment.
Owner still had power every day she lived in fear. She was done. It was over. It was time Perry Carter finally let go of the leash.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ivy’s heart was pounding, her nerves shot. She paced back and forth, barefoot over the wooden floors and carpets. A sensory comfort to help stop her mind from racing quite so fast. Questions circled, but the one thing she didn’t question was if she was doing the right thing.
She was.
She knew that now.
There would always be someone like Mrs Taylor lurking in the shadows, waiting to use anything they could against her, be it to line their pockets or spin discord. Telling her story was the only way to ensure she controlled the narrative once and for all.
She’d seen the theories, heard the whispers, and she knew she’d have to face a thousand more. But if she did this now, the media would have their field day, then there was their wedding and she and Miles could escape the media circus. By the time they got back from their honeymoon, the whole thing may have blown over, and with her story being an exclusive, at least she had the illusion of control.
Her heart sped to a gallop as a knock sounded on her door. It was only as her trembling hand reached for the doorknob she realised this wouldn’t be the journalist, the front desk had not called up to ask if she was expecting a visitor, nor had her security detail sent confirmation she’d been checked for weapons. Odd, yes, but apparently this was one of the compromises of not standing outside her door.
That meant it was either someone from the apartment block or someone they had white-listed. Yes, they’d white-listed people who could visit her, although a heads-up would still be kind of nice. That said, it wasn’t like she could pretend she wasn’t home if she didn’t feel like having any visitors, not since her security detail were checking people.
She remembered herself as her fingers seized the knob and flicked on the monitor by the door to see Mr Taylor standing outside, wearing casual clothes, yet somehow making the jeans and navy polo neck shirt look smart. She unlatched the door, forcing her best smile through her nervousness over the enormity of the event to come. At least her teeth had stopped chattering.
