Ryan’s POV
I woke up to my phone buzzing non-stop. Overnight, Ivy had beco the internet’s favorite punching bag.
Beyond the design plagiarism, people were digging up everything - her fake credentials, tax evasion rumors, even allegations about buying her way into design competitions.
"Shit," I muttered, scrolling through the chaos. This was spreading to Blackwood’s reputation faster than I’d anticipated.
Simon appeared at my office door by 8 AM, looking like he hadn’t slept. "Sir, we need to activate crisis managent. The Hart Jewelry situation is affecting our stock prices."
I nodded grimly, "Get the PR team in here. Now."
The ergency eting was tense.
Our investigation confird what I’d suspected but refused to believe - Ivy had genuinely committed all these ethical violations. She wasn’t just spoiled; she was rotten to the core.
"These docunts confirm she falsified her design portfolio for the partnership application," my head of legal said, sliding over a folder.
"And there’s evidence suggesting she attempted to bribe several industry critics."
I rubbed my temples, feeling a migraine building. For Sophie’s sake, I’d turned a blind eye to Ivy’s smaller transgressions. Now that decision was threatening everything I’d built.
"Sir," Simon said quietly, "Ms. Hart is waiting outside. She’s been calling non-stop since dawn."
"Fine. Send her in."
Ivy rushed in looking nothing like the polished woman from the launch.
Her eyes were puffy, makeup hastily applied, clothes wrinkled. She collapsed dramatically into the chair across from .
"Ryan, you have to help !" She sobbed, hands trembling. "My career is being destroyed! Soone’s orchestrating this whole thing!"
I stared at her coldly. "Is any of it untrue?"
She faltered, her crying act montarily disrupted. "I... that’s not the point! People are digging up ancient history. It’s that bitch Serena, I know it is!"
"Watch your language," I snapped. "And take so responsibility. These aren’t rumors, Ivy. These are docunted facts."
Ivy quickly switched tactics, her voice softening. "Please, Sophie would be devastated if she knew her little sister’s career was ruined. You know how much she loved ."
The ntion of Sophie hit its mark. I exhaled slowly, anger subsiding.
"Fine," I said finally. "For Sophie’s mory, I’ll help you this once. But this is the last ti."
Relief washed over her face as she wiped away tears. "Thank you, Ryan. I knew you wouldn’t abandon ."
"Don’t thank yet. There will be conditions," I gestured toward the door. "Now go ho and wait for instructions. And avoid the press."
As soon as she left, practically skipping out despite the reporters waiting to ambush her outside, I felt a weight in my stomach.
Sothing about her reaction didn’t sit right with . The way she’d invoked Sophie’s na felt... calculated.
My security team escorted her through the dia gauntlet to her car. Even from my office window, I could see the frenzy of caras and shouted questions about plagiarism and tax fraud.
Ivy kept her head down, suddenly playing the victim again, shepherded by my n through what looked like an excruciating walk of sha.
Once she was gone, I sat at my desk, contemplating my next move. There was only one real option.
I had to talk to Serena.
I dialed her number from mory, only to hear an automated ssage: "The number you have dialed is no longer in service."
Of course. She’d changed her number after our divorce. She’d erased from her life just as thoroughly as I’d once erased her from mine.
The realization stung more than it should have.
"Simon," I called again. "Contact Dreamland Studio. Set up a eting with Serena... with Ms. Quinn. Tonight."
By eight o’clock, Hours later, I sat waiting in a private dining room at Argent, one of the city’s most exclusive restaurants. I’d arrived early, rehearsing what I’d say, how I’d approach this. Business-like. Professional. Detached.
All my preparation evaporated the mont she walked in.
Serena entered precisely at eight, wearing a crisp white suit that accentuated her slender fra. Her hair was swept up in an elegant knot, exposing the graceful line of her neck. No elaborate makeup, no flashy accessories—just pure, undiluted confidence.
I found myself standing, staring like an idiot.
This wasn’t the woman I’d been married to—the quiet, accommodating wife who’d decorated our house and organized charity events.
This was soone entirely different.
Soone commanding.
Powerful.Breathtaking.
"Mr. Blackwood," she said coolly. "It’s been a while."
Her voice snapped back to reality. "I wasn’t sure you’d co."
"Curiosity got the better of ." She settled into the chair across from , a slight smirk playing on her lips. "Surprised it’s ? Were you expecting soone else?"
I regained my composure. "No, I knew it was you behind all this. And... congratulations. The launch was impressive—clearly a success."
Her brows lifted ever so slightly. "So you called here to celebrate my victory? How strange." The faint curl of her lips didn’t reach her eyes.
"you suddenly care about more than you ever did when we were married."
Her words hit harder than I expected.
The jab wasn’t just sharp—it pierced deeper than I cared to admit, twisting into a faint knot that settled uneasily in my chest.
I leaned back, keeping my tone even. "No. I’m here because of Ivy’s situation—I want to discuss how we resolve it."
Serena laughed, the sound both musical and sharp. "You’re still protecting your little girlfriend? Willing to grovel to on her behalf? How touching."
"I’m here for Blackwood’s reputation," I said firmly, though even I could hear how hollow that sounded.
"Of course you are." She swirled the wine in her glass, eyes never leaving mine. "Well then, Mr. CEO, what’s your proposal?"
Her red lips were more intoxicating than the wine between us. I caught myself staring again, noticing how different she was from Sophie. They shared similar features, yes, but Serena radiated a fierce intelligence and self-possession that Sophie had never possessed.
Had I really never noticed before?
Serena rapped her knuckles against the table, breaking my trance. "Mr. Blackwood, it’s considered poor form to zone out during negotiations. It’s getting late—I’d like to finish this conversation so I can go ho for dinner."
I cleared my throat, embarrassed to be caught daydreaming like a schoolboy. "Serena,is it really necessary for things to get to this point?"
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