Chapter 6
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She hosted from the shadows-a ghost in her own home.
During gift unveiling, guests presented treasures- rare art, vintage wines.
Nova’s offering-a limited-edition Patek Philippe-was presented on silver velvet.
“Exquisite taste, Mrs. Blackthorn! Only ten exist worldwide!”
“Perfect for Mr. Blackthorn’s stature!”
“Who knows him better than his wife?”
Zane met Nova’s eyes briefly. A curt “Thank you.”
Then Ivy’s gift was unwrapped.
The room hushed.
Nestled in tissue paper lay a clumsily hand-knit beige scarf-its stitches crooked, uneven.
Chapter 5
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Chapter 6
Someone snorted. “A… handmade scarf? What century is this?”
“That cheap yarn might give Mr. Blackthorn a rash!”
“Who is this woman? Dressed like that-how’d she even get in?”
Ivy paled, shrinking back.
Zane’s expression darkened.
He lifted the scarf. Deliberately, he wrapped it around his neck before the stunned crowd.
“I value this gift deeply.” His quiet voice silenced the room. “Expensive things are replaceable. Handmade sincerity isn’t.”
Then he picked up Nova’s watch. “This? Costly. Meaningless.”
The Patek Philippe hit the bottom of a crystal wastebasket.
The sound echoed like shattering glass.
Silence. Then-a sycophantic chorus.
“Absolutely right! Handmade carries heart!”
“That watch was cold! Look at these charmingly unique stitches!”
“Such talent, this young lady!”
Nova stood frozen. Blood turned to ice in her veins.
Three months.
She’d circled the globe, comparing designs across a dozen boutiques.
Now it lay discarded like trash-all to elevate Ivy.
Hadn’t it always been like this?
He canceled critical meetings for Ivy’s whims-yet forgot her birthday.
He nursed Ivy through a cold-but ignored Nova’s high fever.
He’d cross oceans at Ivy’s request-yet begrudged Nova a shared meal.
Every time. Without hesitation. Just like discarding her gift.
Nova pressed a hand to her chest.
Once, her heart had hammered for him. Now? Still as stagnant water.
Love, she finally understood, could hemorrhage to nothingness.
Chapter 6
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Every pulse of longing, every stab of hope, every wound of neglect-
Worn smooth by his endless choices.
No grief remained. Only hollowed-out calm.
In the ballroom, all attention pivoted to Ivy.
Guests who’d mocked her now fawned like jackals.
Nova watched from the shadows, lips twisting.
The rules of this gilded world-Zane’s approval was a magnet.
So be it.
After the divorce, Ivy would claim her place as Mrs. Blackthorn. Tonight was merely her debut.
The gala ended. Guests trickled away.
Nova stood by the entrance, the perfect hostess-smile polished, posture flawless. The impeccable Mrs. Blackthorn.
As the last guest departed, she finally breathed-only to find Zane and Ivy blocking the doorway.
Torrential rain sheeted down outside. Icy, damp wind sliced through the foyer.
Ivy shivered violently. A delicate sneeze escaped her.
Zane frowned. He shrugged off his suit jacket, draping it over her shoulders.
“Still freezing…” Ivy trembled.
Zane’s gaze swept the room-landing on Nova.
The cashmere shawl around her shoulders glowed softly under the chandeliers- pale beige, impossibly fine.
“Give Ivy your shawl.”
Nova’s fingers jerked. Color drained from her face.
“This was my grandmother’s-”
“I know your dead grandmother knit it “Zane cut her off. impatient. “Ivv just needs it for the drive. Must vou be this petty?”
