"What did you say?" Xander asked, momentarily taken aback.
Ivy felt as if someone had splashed cold water across her face.
In the very next second, she corrected herself—quickly.
"I—I said you're pathetic," she snapped, her eyes sharpening as she pushed away the distraction from moments ago.
Xander's gaze darkened. Leaning back in his chair, he regarded her with a calm, almost careless expression.
"How exactly is my decision pathetic?" he asked coolly. "You agreed last night that my lack of trust wasn't your concern."
Ivy paused.
Then it hit her.
Right… I did say that.
She groaned inwardly, closing her eyes for a brief second.
Xander caught that reaction—and a faint smirk tugged at his lips.
"But you still can't keep me caged here all day," Ivy argued, regaining her composure.
For a moment, Xander seemed to consider her words.
"Who said you would be caged?" he replied.
Ivy frowned, confusion flashing across her face.
But then she noticed it—
That slight flicker in his eyes.
It made her instantly alert.
"If you want," Xander continued smoothly, "you're free to walk around the property… spend your time in nature."
"…?"
Xander's lips twitched at the sight of her darkened expression. It was obvious—he had offended her.
And he didn't seem to mind.
While Ivy continued shooting daggers at him, a voice suddenly broke through their silent standoff.
"Good morning, boss."
Ivy's gaze snapped toward the man who had just walked in.
The moment she saw him—
Her expression turned ice-cold.
Taylor, on the other hand, paused mid-step, an uneasy chill running down his spine.
"Why do I suddenly feel cold?" he muttered, rubbing his palms together as he glanced at Xander.
"Huh?" He frowned, realizing the feeling wasn't coming from him.
Just then, someone cleared their throat.
Taylor turned—
And met Ivy's eyes.
"…Good morning," Ivy said with a polite smile.
But the sharp glint behind it made him stiffen instantly.
Because there was nothing warm about that smile.
How could she forget him?
The man who had shot her.
The man because of whom she had fallen off that cliff—her body sinking into darkness, her consciousness slipping away into a deep, endless sleep.
Taylor, on the other hand, flinched as the memory resurfaced—the men she had beaten to a pulp when she tried to save Leo from them.
"G-Good morning," he stuttered, unsure why she was looking at him with that unsettling, almost devilish smile.
Before he could dwell on it any longer, he quickly turned back to Xander.
Ivy's smile disappeared, but her piercing gaze remained locked on him, as if she were silently drilling holes through him.
"I'll take my leave," Xander announced, standing up without even touching his breakfast.
"Already? You haven't even eaten," Ivy spoke instinctively, frowning as she realized they hadn't even begun.
Then why did he call me here if he was just going to leave like that?
"Consider what I said."
Xander didn't respond to her concern. He simply turned and walked away.
Taylor followed immediately—but not without stealing a quick glance back at Ivy.
The look she gave him made it feel like she was peeling his skin off.
And suddenly, the cold didn't seem so imaginary anymore.
***
Thud!
"Woah… boss, did you see the way she was looking at me?" Taylor rubbed his arms, trying to shake off the goosebumps crawling over his skin.
From the backseat, Xander watched him quietly.
Taylor had always been dramatic—but now that he thought about it, Xander had sensed it too.
That sharp, almost dangerous gaze Ivy had fixed on him.
For a brief second, it lingered in his mind.
But just as quickly, Xander pushed the thought aside.
"Did you get what I asked for?" he asked, his tone turning serious.
Taylor paused, then straightened, slipping back into his professional demeanor.
"About that… the DNA matched."
The air inside the car instantly grew heavy.
Xander's eyes darkened.
He had doubted Ivy. That was why he had ordered the test—to confirm whether she was telling the truth about being Leo's mother.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low.
Taylor nodded without hesitation.
"Yes, boss. It's a perfect match."
***
Back inside the mansion, Ivy had long finished her breakfast and was now pacing restlessly inside her room.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
"…Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath, running a hand through her hair. "The audacity of that man."
She stopped mid-step, crossing her arms tightly.
"If he wasn't that handsome, I swear I wouldn't hesitate to punch that perfect face of his."
A pause.
"…Actually, no. I'd still punch him."
She resumed pacing, clearly not done.
"'Consider what I said,' he says," she mimicked under her breath, lowering her voice to match his deep tone. "Who even talks like that? What am I supposed to consider? His arrogance? His superiority complex? Or his extremely annoying habit of walking away mid-conversation?"
She huffed, throwing herself onto the couch before sitting up again almost immediately—too agitated to stay still.
"And what was that look this morning?" she continued, frowning. "Acting all calm and composed as if nothing happened. As if he didn't just—"
She abruptly stopped.
Her face heated slightly.
"…No. We are not thinking about that," she said firmly, shaking her head.
But the image flashed anyway.
The sudden closeness.
The warmth.
The way his presence had completely thrown her off balance.
Ivy groaned, covering her face with both hands.
"Get a grip, Raven," she muttered. "You've dealt with far worse than a ridiculously attractive, emotionally constipated man."
A beat.
"…Ridiculously attractive," she repeated under her breath, clearly annoyed at herself.
She flopped back against the couch, staring at the ceiling.
"And what does he even mean by 'you're free to walk around the property'?" she scoffed. "That's just a fancy way of saying I'm still trapped—just with a better view."
Rolling onto her side, she narrowed her eyes.
"And don't even get me started on that trust issue. 'I don't trust you, Ivy.' Well, congratulations. The feeling is mutual."
She paused.
"…Okay, maybe not entirely mutual," she admitted begrudgingly. "But still—he could at least try to be less… infuriating."
Just as she was about to launch into another round of complaints—
Knock. Knock.
Ivy froze, then sat up.
"Come in," she called.
The door opened, and Butler Rupert stepped inside, his posture as composed as ever.
"Madam," he greeted politely.
Ivy straightened slightly. "Yes?"
Rupert stepped forward and extended something toward her.
"A phone," he said. "The master asked me to give this to you."
Ivy blinked, surprised, as she took it from his hand.
"For me?"
"Yes, Madam. The master mentioned that it would be inconvenient for you to stay here without a means of communication."
Ivy looked down at the phone, her brows knitting slightly.
For a moment, she didn't say anything.
Then—
"Huh."
Rupert watched her quietly, unsure of what she would say next.
Ivy turned the phone in her hand, her expression unreadable.
"That jerk…" she muttered under her breath.
Rupert blinked.
"…At least he's a somewhat thoughtful jerk," she added a second later.
Rupert quickly lowered his head, hiding the faint smile tugging at his lips.
"I will take my leave then, Madam," he said.
"Mm," Ivy hummed absentmindedly, still staring at the phone.
Once he left, she leaned back against the couch again, holding the device up as if it might reveal Xander's intentions.
"…So this is how you play, huh?" she murmured.
A slow smirk formed on her lips.
"Fine, Mr. Emerson," she said softly. "Let's see who wins."