Chapter 5
Tears welled in Ivy’s eyes. “Am I… interrupting?”
Zane shoved Nova away instantly. “Ivy, it’s not what you think!”
The sudden motion sent Nova tumbling backward. She crashed off the hospital bed-
Thud.
Her skull struck the sharp corner of the nightstand. Blood streamed down her temple.
“I’m so sorry for interrupting…” Ivy sobbed, fleeing down the hall.
“Ivy!”
Zane didn’t glance at Nova’s crumpled form. He sprinted after Ivy without hesitation.
Nova lay on the cold floor, vision blurring crimson.
A broken laugh escaped her-tears mixing with blood.
When nurses found her, she’d lost consciousness again from blood loss.
As consciousness bled away, a nurse’s frantic shout pierced the haze.
“Head trauma! STAT!”
And Zane’s footsteps-fading away.
The head injury extended Nova’s hospital stay.
Zane never returned.
Of course. He’s soothing Ivy.
She didn’t call. Didn’t text.
On discharge day, the Blackthorn butler phoned.
“Madam, arrangements for Mr. Blackthorn’s birthday gala?”
Nova gripped her phone. Silent.
She’d orchestrated every one of Zane’s birthdays.
The Blackthorns had wealth, not warmth.
His own parents forgot his peanut allergy-serving peanut-butter cakes yearly.
She remembered their first birthday together-him sneaking antihistamines.
“Why not tell them?” she’d asked, heart aching.
Chapter 5
5.49%%
“Pointless. His voice was flat. “They care more about quarterly earnings.”
So Nova took charge.
Every dish. Every flower. Tailored to his tastes.
No more allergic reactions. No more garish decorations.
“Madam?” The butler pressed.
Nova drew a steadying breat,. “I’ll handle it.”
One last time.
After the divorce? Someone else would learn his preferences.
She planned meticulously-but this time, the butler shadowed her, taking notes.
“Black Forest cake. No peanut products.”
“White roses for centerpieces. He despises red.”
“Eliminate tequila from the bar. It triggers his migraines.”
“Memorize this. For future reference.”
The butler frowned, “Why wouldn’t you oversee next year’s event?”
Nova lowered her gaze. No answer.
Next year?
She’d no longer be Mrs. Blackthorn.
The gala glittered-chandeliers blazing, guests shimmering in finery.
Nova stood near the entrance in pale blue silk, watching Zane enter with Ivy on his arm.
Ivy wore blush tulle, clinging to him like a fragile bird.
In that c moment, understanding settled like dust.
He’d appeased his songbird.
Zane’s attention never left Ivy.
Refilling her champagne with juice the moment her glass emptied.
Summoning attendants to smooth her wind-tousled skirt.
Smiling tenderly when she beamed at some delicacy-a crescent-moon curve of delight.
His eyes never found Nova.
