"Kayros agreed to marry Ophelia?"
Ivy's face goes pale at the news.
Rhys nods calmly, sipping his tea.
Raphael looks at Ivy, frowning. "Why wouldn't he? It's good for him to marry Ophelia anyway."
Ivy clenches her fist under the table, schooling her expression back to her usual.
"No. It was a huge deal two years ago. I thought he wouldn't agree so easily."
Fire crackles gently in the hearth, lighting up the lounge. Raphael looks at the butler. "Any word from the Dimitri family?"
"Not yet, but based on insider news, Young Master Vincent has been desperately trying to reach Young Lady. But since the Natheniel mansion is closed off to outsiders, he can't do that."
The butler's clipped words make Raphael nod. His hazel-green eyes are calm like the motionless wave of a lake, reflecting the glow of fire. Rhys looks a bit skeptical of the situation, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
"Dimitri and Natheniel have been in cold war for nearly four generations. Ophelia has gotten involved with both."
Ivy clenches her jaw tightly, her chest burning with emotions far from something a normal older sister would feel for her younger sister. But nobody notices how tightly she's gripping her teacup.
In the Blackwood family, Ivy has always been the most beloved princess, while Ophelia has always been seen as a curse. And the fact that Ophelia is marrying into the Natheniel family—to Kayros on top of that—
Ivy feels inferior and envious. In the Elite society, there are ranks when it comes to power. If there is crownless royalty, it's House of Natheniel, with House of Volkov being the most loyal right hand and hunting dog. House of Blackwood is the merchant family who finances, and House of Dimitri rules the dark alleys of Eastern Europe.
Her blood boils in fury, a scream ringing in her mind—
(Ophelia doesn't deserve this! I am the one who is the prized jewel of Blackwood. Kayros Natheniel…)
Her chest tightens as her heart whispers his name,
(He should have been mine.)
Sarah notices Ivy staring into the firewood. Her eyes flutter, blinking rapidly as if trying to dismiss whatever she witnessed, while Rhys and Raphael continue discussing Ophelia's dowry.
Sarah's gaze flickers between Rhys and Raphael to see if they noticed it too, but the two men are too absorbed in their discussion to notice the jealousy in Ivy's eyes.
A shocking, crawling terror prickles up Sarah's spine when Ivy's cold, destructive gaze meets hers.
A small smirk tugs on Ivy's lips—almost cruel—like she is already planning something, and Sarah can feel it in her bones. Nobody would believe her if she said Ivy looks like she wants to kill Ophelia.
****
Ivy steps into her massive bedroom—pastel and ivory, silk bedsheets, and a huge window next to the vanity holding her luxurious collection of makeup.
Her blonde hair catches the candlelight, making her look like the princess people write about. A slender figure with perfect curves—she is everything Ophelia isn't.
A laugh leaves her throat as she looks at the news on the Elite tabloid.
Written in bold headline with Ophelia and Kayros's pictures side by side:
—THE MOST ANTICIPATED WEDDING OF THE DECADE.
KAYROS NATHENIEL BUYING OUT ENTIRE RESORT IN GENEVA FOR HIS WEDDING!!—
Ivy feels a burn in her throat. Her grip on her phone tightens enough to hurt, eyes turning red with rage and disgust.
"Marriage? As if I will let this marriage happen."
Her voice trembles. If anyone saw her like this, no one would believe she is the same elegant daughter of Blackwood.
Ivy dials Vincent's number, fixing her tone back to neutral. "Vincent."
Vincent growls angrily from the other side, "WHAT DO YOU WANT?"
Ivy grits her teeth. Inhaling deeply, she answers, "Do you want to meet Ophelia?"
Silence follows. Wheels turn in Vincent's mind. "What do you want?"
Ivy looks at her reflection in the mirror. She is perfect. From beauty to intelligence, she believes there is no way Ophelia is better. Then why should she marry Kayros Natheniel and become the future Lady of House Natheniel?
"What I want, I will get. But do you want Ophelia enough to go through a bit of pain?"
Her words carry a challenge. Vincent doesn't reply immediately.
"I will arrange a meeting between you and Ophelia. She is obsessed with you—she will bark if you tell her to."
A long exhale sounds from the other side. Ivy's spine straightens unexpectedly, sensing danger. She can feel heat radiating from Vincent even through the phone.
"Listen to me, you old slut—" Vincent growls dangerously. "Don't give me attitude, okay? I'm not a fucking toy for you."
Ivy's eyes widen. Chills run down her body. "What did you just call me?"
His deep, masculine, mocking laugh makes Ivy feel humiliated and insulted.
"What? You expected me to hanker after the opportunity if you gave me a chance, huh?"
No words come out of Ivy. Her mouth opens slightly, but fear makes her cower down. A boy the same age as her sister—how can he command such presence and power even over the phone?
Ivy trembles unconsciously.
Vincent clicks his tongue. "What I do with Ophelia—that's between me and Ophelia. Hmm?"
Ivy gathers her courage, closing her eyes. "You can't enter the Natheniel mansion."
"Oh, I don't need to. Like you said, Ophelia will bark like a dog if I want her to. So what I do is my business. Fuck off, slut."
And with that, Vincent cuts the call.
Ivy's eyes widen in terror—and more fury. She screams at the top of her lungs and throws her phone at the wall, breaking it into pieces.
"THIS ISN'T FAIR!!"
She turns everything in her room upside down—breaking mirrors and million-euro paintings, tearing pillows apart. Her palm bleeds, staining the white and ivory walls red.
Rhys, hearing Ivy's animalistic scream, runs to her room frantically.
"IVY! IVY, WHAT HAPPENED?"
He hits the door, rattling the wood. Everyone in the mansion feels fear rush through their bodies.
Because in the Blackwood family, Ivy comes before everything—and anything that hurts her gets removed from the way.
Raphael runs from his study, his feet heavy, heart racing, and both father and son break down the door.
They freeze at the disaster—and Ivy's tears and blood.
"Ivy!"
"Princess!"
Ivy looks at them, her lips trembling. "Dad… you told me you would give me everything."
Raphael nods without hesitation, his hair disheveled, his steps careful like he's approaching the most precious being in the world.
"Princess, tell me. What do you want?"
He tries to negotiate gently, his heart twisting in pain at the sight of blood on her hand.
"Don't let this marriage happen. I don't want Ophelia to marry Kayros."
Rhys's eyes widen. Raphael blinks as if he heard something unreal. They exchange glances—something about Ivy feels… unfamiliar.
Seeing her father hesitate, Ivy screams again. Both men flinch, their overprotectiveness exploding. Raphael pulls his daughter into his chest, restraining her from hurting herself further.
He feels like vomiting from tension. Ivy is his weakness—both because she is his daughter and because Ivy looks exactly like her mother, his beloved wife.
"Princess, listen to me—"
"No! Ophelia can't marry Kayros!"
Her scream echoes through the room, rattling something dangerously inside Raphael.
Rhys drags his hand over his face. Ivy's tears and demands are new. She has always been calm, and this outburst makes his logic crumble.
"Ivy, why would you say that? This is already settled. Kayros agreed to marry Ophelia—this union between Natheniel and Blackwood!"
He tries to reason with her.
Ivy clutches Raphael's sleeves. "Dad… I never told you before because I didn't want to burden you."
Raphael feels panic surge through him. "What is it, princess?"
He cradles her protectively.
Ivy hiccups and whimpers, her voice so small that Rhys and Raphael think they imagined it—but they didn't.
"I love Kayros… since we were twelve. I never loved Czar."
She sobs into Raphael's chest weakly.
"I tried to love Czar, I really did… but I never felt anything romantic toward him, and I can't see Kayros with someone else."
Rhys's head spins. His throat goes dry, his gut twists. He has to hold the wall to keep from buckling. Raphael goes completely still.
Ivy's wailing grows louder.
"I want Kayros, Dad. I can't see him marrying Ophelia. I will die, Dad."
"NO!"
Raphael's head snaps up. His eyes are glassy as he looks into Ivy's tear-filled ones, his chest tightening with memories of his wife dying in his arms. He hugs Ivy tightly, pupils trembling, heart beating fast.
"You want to marry Kayros, right? Fine! You will! Two weeks from now, you will be marrying Kayros!!"
"DAD!!"
Rhys's eyes widen.
Raphael doesn't reply. He kisses the top of Ivy's head.
"You will get whatever you want, Ivy. You will marry the man you love. Not Ophelia."
"I don't care what she goes through… but you will always be happy."
He whispers the promise into Ivy's hair—
and Ivy smirks evilly against his chest.
"You are the best dad in the world," she quivers.