Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 28
Morales Mansion – Dining Room – Evening
The dining room, usually pristine, now sat cluttered and dirty, dishes piled in every direction, the housekeeping neglect from Celeste’s absence fully on display.
Ron and Maeve sat at the table regardless, clinking glasses together in celebration.
“She’s finally where she belongs,” Maeve said, smug satisfaction dripping from every word. “Locked up somewhere quiet, learning her lesson.”
“That woman never deserved happiness anyway,” Ron added, swirling his wine. “Someone’s been sending her money — an anonymous source, still unclear who — but we’re freezing her accounts first thing tomorrow. Can’t have poor people thinking they can just flourish behind our backs.”
Maeve laughed, raising her glass higher. “To keeping people in their place.”
Her phone rang. She glanced at the screen, and her expression soured instantly.
“It’s Dixon.”
She answered, putting it on speaker without thinking, still riding the high of the evening’s celebration.
“Maeve,” Dixon’s voice came through, apologetic but firm. “I wanted to let you know personally — I won’t be overseeing the award selection this year. I’m traveling out of the country. Family matters. A new judge has already been assigned.”
Maeve’s face went white, then red. “What? WHAT? You can’t just — we had an ARRANGEMENT, Dixon—”
“I’m sorry, Maeve. There’s nothing I can do. Good luck this year.”
The call ended.
Maeve let out a scream of pure rage, flinging her wine glass across the room, glass shattering against the wall in a spray of red liquid and shards.
Ron, having heard every word through the speaker, shot to his feet. “That shitty bastard! We have to do something, Maeve, we can’t just let this—”
A knock interrupted him. Their gatekeeper stood in the doorway, looking apprehensive.
“Sir, someone’s here to see you. ”
Ron’s stomach dropped.
He walked out to the front gate slowly, and there she was — Ivory, leaning casually against her car, sunglasses perched on her nose despite the fading light, eating a piece of chocolate with the kind of unbothered luxury that made his chest tighten involuntarily.
Behind the tinted windows of that same car, Duane sat waiting, engine idling, watching the exchange unfold at a distance, staying put exactly as Ivory had instructed him to.
Ron’s heart raced, skipping several beats entirely.
He moved closer, unable to tear his eyes away from her, from the sheer, effortless expense radiating off her, before catching himself and forcing his expression into something neutral.
“Been a long time,” he said. “First love.”
“Been ages,” Ivory replied, voice flat, eyes holding absolutely nothing soft. “Stupid Ronny.”
She removed her sunglasses, folding them slowly, and stepped closer, close enough that Ron found himself holding his breath entirely without meaning to.
“Release Celeste Brooke,” she said. “Now. Or you face the consequences.”
Ron feigned confusion, spreading his hands wide. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Celeste hasn’t picked up my calls since she left. I have no idea where she is.”
“Ron.” Ivory’s voice dropped lower, colder. “I said release her. Now.”
Something in her eyes made his carefully constructed innocence crumble entirely. He’d been busted, and they both knew it.
His heart hammered. “Bring it on, then. What exactly do you think you can do to me?”
Ivory whistled once, sharp and short.
Then she pulled out her phone, tapped the screen, and turned it toward him.
Ron’s eyes went wide as the video played.
His face drained of all color.
“You—how did you—”
“Doesn’t matter how,” Ivory said. “What matters is I have this, timestamped, along with your wife name through connections you clearly forgot I have. Release her. Now. Or this goes to every news outlet, every regulatory body, every investor currently propping up your failing company by tomorrow morning.”
Ron’s hands shook as he pulled out his phone, dialing frantically. “Get her back to Albern Street. NOW. Five minutes. I don’t care how.”
He hung up, glaring at Ivory with a mixture of fury and something close to fear.
“This isn’t over,” he muttered.
“It never is with you,” Ivory said, sliding her sunglasses back on. “That’s the problem, Ron. You never know when to stop.”
She turned and walked back toward the car without another word, leaving Ron standing there, fists clenched, watching her go.
– A Few Minutes Later
Ivory climbed back into the passenger seat, closing the door with a sharp click, and checked her wristwatch impatiently, tapping her foot against the floor mat, waiting for confirmation.
Duane glanced at her sideways.
“Well?” He asked, He didn’t hear a thing they discussed cause the car is sound proof but it looked like she really know him.
“He’s handling it. Give it a few minutes.”
They sat in tense silence, both of them watching the mansion’s front gates, until Duane’s phone finally buzzed.
He answered immediately. “Luis?”
“She’s back,” Luis said, breathless with relief on the other end. “Duane, she’s back, they just dropped her off, she’s sedated but she’s breathing, she’s asleep, she’s okay—”
Duane’s whole body sagged with relief, his eyes falling shut for a brief moment. “Thank God. Thank God, Luis. We’ll be there soon.”
He hung up, and before Ivory could fully process what was happening, he’d thrown open the car door and was out, pulling her out with him and into a warm, fierce hug right there in the driveway of the Morales Mansion.
“Thank you,” he said, voice thick with emotion, arms wrapped tight around her. “Thank you so much, Ms. Bennett.”
Ivory stiffened for half a second, caught entirely off guard.
Then, slowly, she wrapped her arms around him too, holding on just as tightly, some wall inside her cracking just slightly in the process.
His arms tightened around her slim frame, and neither of them pulled away for a long moment, the tension and terror of the entire day finally bleeding out of both of them at once.
Ron stood watching, he has been standing there
His jaw clenched. His hands curled into fists.
He watched Ivory Bennett — his Ivory, in some deep, twisted part of his memory that had never quite let go — wrapped in the arms of some driver, some nobody, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Something ugly and possessive twisted in his chest.
“This isn’t over,” he muttered, low and dark, watching as Ivory tightened the hug.
TBC
{{comment.anon_name ?? comment.full_name}}
{{timeAgo(comment.date_added)}}
{{comment.body}}
{{subComment.anon_name ?? subComment.full_name}}
{{timeAgo(subComment.date_added)}}
{{subComment.body}}