Chapter 3

Ivy's Pov

I spread my hands, unwilling to prolong this pointless conversation. "I'm going to go pack."

"Okay." Gabriel stubbed out the cigar he had barely smoked and stood. "I'll go to the study and write your check."

We left the bedroom and walked in opposite directions.

After that torrent of passion, how absurd that we did not end up in the same bed.

I shut myself inside the enormous walk-in closet, and my composure finally shattered.

I slid down against the cabinet door and sank to the floor, crying in muffled, strangled sobs.

Inside my mind, Rita had curled into a tight ball as well, her fur dull and lusterless.

"We're still too easily blinded by love, Ivy… Wild sex isn't necessarily love—it can just as easily be a cold-hearted parting gift. But the way he used to go through the motions with you before? That was definitely because he didn't love you enough. We should have seen it sooner. Then it wouldn't hurt this much…"

I couldn't respond. My mind was already overflowing with the agony of memories.

I remembered the rainy night three years ago when Isabella refused Gabriel in order to return to her family, leaving him howling in despair beneath the downpour.

Back then I was just a small-pack girl newly arrived in the big city, a cocktail waitress earning meager wages and renting a cheap apartment.

But I had walked past him, found him, and in a moment of compassion carried his unconscious body home to look after him.

That night Gabriel burned with a fever that would not break. The blood he coughed up stained the sheets—a brutal backlash triggered by the violent severing of his bond.

With my faint pheromones, I soothed his raging wolf spirit bit by bit, listening as he called out another woman's name again and again in his delirium.

Later, in his haze, he seized my hand and looked up at me with eyes full of desperate need.

I fell in love with those eyes on the spot and accepted the bond he offered.

After that, he proposed.

I had believed that love could grow over time—that it was more than just an empty saying. I had believed I could be his redemption.

In the end, I understood: it had only ever been a one-woman show.

I lay curled on the cold floor of the closet, crying until, at some point, I drifted into sleep.

…

When I woke, the sky outside had turned pale with dawn.

I dragged my suitcase downstairs and found Gabriel already seated at the dining table.

He looked as though he hadn't slept at all. Faint dark circles shadowed his eyes, and the check sat beneath his coffee cup.

I walked over, picked up that thin slip of paper, and tucked it into my bag without so much as a glance at the number.

"I wish you all the best."

I said it softly, mustering an elegant smile.

"You too, Ivy."

Gabriel raised his coffee but never took a sip.

He watched me. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes.

"By the way, the divorce papers—"

"I'll have someone send them to you." Gabriel nodded. "If there's anything else you need, feel free to contact Kyle."

Kyle. His beta. The impeccable personal assistant who could organize anything down to the last detail.

Of course. All Gabriel had to do was hand things off to Kyle and the loop was closed—neat, seamless, and his own hands perfectly clean.

"Thank you for your generosity. Goodbye."

I gripped the handle of my suitcase, turned toward the front door, and pulled it open—

I saw a woman.

She stood in the pale light of early morning, golden hair swept up in a high, sleek chignon—sharp and elegant. A tailored black sheath dress traced every perfect curve of her figure, and she held the handle of a silver Rimowa suitcase.

Isabella Colofillaire.

A name that had existed only in rumors and in Gabriel's sleep-murmured dreams, now made flesh before me.

But what startled me most was her face.

She had the same striking deep-blue eyes as mine. The same golden hair. Even those legs visible below the hem of her dress were as long and straight as my own.

In that instant, a chill shot from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head.

I finally understood: from the very beginning, I had been nothing but a stand-in. A living, breathing stand-in.

I turned stiffly to look at Gabriel.

He didn't seem to notice my ashen face. He was already on his feet, walking toward the woman in the doorway, his expression carrying a tenderness I had never once seen.

"I didn't think your flight would be this early," Gabriel said.

"I changed it, Gabriel. I couldn't wait to see you."

She opened her arms and drew him into a long embrace. Right in front of me, they kissed each other on the cheeks.

Inside my mind, Rita let out a sharp, bitter laugh.

"See? He had already planned to bring that woman back. And he had the nerve to pretend he wanted you to stay. Thank God we packed everything last night and already bought the ticket—otherwise, being thrown out to her face today? Now that would have been truly humiliating."

I ignored Rita's scorn. I only blamed myself for not calling the taxi one minute sooner. I should have slipped past Isabella without a word, not walked straight into my own humiliation.

"Wait—you must be Ivy."

Isabella called out to me just as I was trying to slip away, extending a friendly hand.

"Hello. I'm Isabella. I've heard about you for a long time. Thank you for keeping Gabriel company these past few years. But starting today, you can consider that exhausting duty fulfilled."

She didn't wait for my response, nor did she seem the least bit embarrassed. She simply withdrew her hand, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear with effortless grace.

Then she turned to Gabriel with a radiant smile.

"Honestly, darling—seeing how well you've been taken care of, I'm a little intimidated. Has Ivy's cooking won you over completely? Your whole routine must be built around her by now."

"The maids can handle all that."

One word—maids—dropped casually from his lips, and just like that, three years of my devotion were reduced to domestic service.

My heart clenched in wave after wave of pain. I stood there and watched Gabriel take the suitcase from Isabella's hand.

"Why don't you sit on the sofa and rest for a bit, Isa. I'll drive Ivy to the airport."

"That won't be necessary." I drew a deep breath and cut Gabriel off. "A cab driver can manage that just fine."

There was no need for hollow courtesies between us anymore.

Isabella's sudden appearance had turned the composed farewell I'd fought so hard to maintain into utter chaos.

I shook off Gabriel's hand and walked out of the courtyard without looking back.

The taxi waiting on the driveway had been there for a while.

"Ivy."

Gabriel followed me out. He didn't try to stop me, but his voice struck from behind like a blade.

"What is it?"

I lifted the trunk lid. I didn't turn around.

"Gale… Who is he?"

The question cut deep, straight into my heart.

"What did you say?"

My spine went rigid. I spun around.

"Never mind."

Gabriel paused, then shook his head. He pulled out a banknote and slipped it through the window to the driver in the baseball cap.

"Drive carefully, please."

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