Chapter 83: Angel, the scheming Devil

Ivy’s pov

"Get out, Angel."

My voice was flat and hollowed out by exhaustion. Today was a lot. I still hadn’t gotten over the fact that Roman bought a whole house building just because he wanted me safe.

It drove me insane just thinking about it, and I had been over and over. I didn’t have the energy to scream this night; I just wanted him to vanish the hell out of my sight.

But the devil had other plans tonight, it seemed.

He leaned against my doorframe. "Is my wife tired? I guess you should be from fucking other men during the day?"

"That’s getting old. I don’t know what the fuck you want from me. I know it’s hard for an animal to be civilized, but I don’t bother you, so how about you try to show a little sliver of decency and don’t bother me, yeah?"

"You’re getting very bold lately." He pushed off the doorframe and strolled into my room, his eyes sweeping over my space.

"Is it bad that I want someone who isn’t a washed-up, frigid bitch? You’re like a fucking block of ice."

"Then go fuck them," I threw my shoulders in a shrug, turning back to face my dressing mirror.

"Oh, I intend to," he replied smoothly, flashing me a grin that I could see in the mirror. What on earth was the slimy bastard up to again? "Which is why you’ll pack your things. You’ll move to the guest room by tomorrow."

My breath caught in my throat and I whipped around, eyes widening. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"You heard me." The last thing Angel was was apologetic. "The main bedroom is no longer your space. The mother of my child will be moving in tomorrow."

The room tilted, and for one dizzying, sickening second, my brain went on full static mode. Pamela? Was Pamela moving in? Here?!

"Over my dead body," I fumed, slamming the brush I had in my hand down on the dresser.

Angel’s lips twisted into a cruel smile. "I can make that happen."

"This is my room. It will remain my room, and there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it. If Pamela ever sets one foot in this house, Angel, I swear to God, you will regret it for the rest of your life."

He threw his head back and laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "And what will you do, Harper? The worst you can do is run to the press, right?" He stepped closer, his face inches from mine, his voice a venomous whisper.

"So tell me, who do you think will actually get hurt in that scenario? Me, or Harper Kingsley, the perfect, pristine heiress who needs her squeaky-clean reputation to secure her company? Who will lose MORE?"

He was always finding the cracks in my armor and breaking me open from the inside. He was right. He was always fucking right. But that didn’t mean I had to sit back and let him bring his freaking concubine into my own home!

"Don’t, Don’t push me against the wall, Angel. If you keep trying to force my hand, do not blame me for the things I will do!"

"Like what?" he taunted. "You’ll tell my father? The board?" He let out a short, sharp bark of laughter.

"Go ahead. See if I care, Harper."

Without thinking, my hand shot up and smacked him across the face. Angel’s eyes widened before filling up with fury, and in a sudden, violent movement, he grabbed the heavy crystal perfume bottle from my dresser and hurled it into the mirror.

A catastrophic explosion of shattering glass filled the room, and I screamed. shielding my face with my hands as mirror shards sprayed across the room, scattering over my dresser and the floor. A large piece skittered to a stop right by my bare feet.

"Go ahead!" he yelled over the ringing in my ears, swiping everything on my dresser to the ground, kicking the shelves and stools close by. "Tell whoever you fucking want! Pamela is moving in. End of story."

He turned and left, slamming the door behind him, leaving me in the wreck that he made of my room. I stood there, my entire body shaking, digging my nails so deep into my palms I thought I’d draw blood. I would not cry.

I would not cry. I sucked in a shuddering breath, tightening my eyes to stop the tears from falling when my phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Carefully, I stepped around the mess and broken glass all over the carpet to get it. Kai’s name flashed on the screen, and my eyes burned even hotter.

I couldn’t. I couldn’t talk to him like this. I didn’t feel sane. I stabbed the button to turn my phone off, my fingers fumbling.

I sank onto the edge of my bed, my eyes landing on the teddy bear Kai had given me. I picked it up, clutching it to my chest for comfort when a new wave of horror washed over me.

The camera.

The teddy bear camera.

Oh God. Oh God, what if he was calling because he had seen the whole thing? Shit. No, it had to be just a coincidence. I fell asleep clutching the teddy bear like it was my lifeline, and the next morning, I was jolted awake by the sound of voices downstairs.

"Why would Harper do such a thing?"

My eyes flew open. Wait a minute, was that my father? What was he doing in my home? He had never been here before. I dragged myself out of bed, my eyes puffy and my head throbbing with a furious headache, and stumbled into the living room.

My father, Jake, and Angel were all sitting on the couches.

"...just don’t know what’s wrong with her," Angel was saying, his voice dripping with fake concern.

"She’s been so unstable lately. Last night, she just... lost it. She asked me to move out, and when I tried to talk to her, she threw a tantrum and threw a bottle at her own mirror."

I stood there, floored, my mouth agape. "WHAT?"