Chapter 526

Honestly, we really were miserable. None of this was in our control, though. Chase turned out to be a complete psychopath, and Nala decided to sacrifice herself to protect her company.

And somehow, I was stuck in the middle of all of it.

"Hey," she said. "I actually found one of those pregnancy test things in my mother’s bedroom while cleaning."

"O-oh..." My voice came out a little shaky. "Wow. So... she’s pregnant?"

"I confronted her," Ivy replied. "She said she had no idea how those got there. I told her I didn’t believe her. You don’t just take a test for no reason."

"She actually took it?"

"Yeah. And no, she’s not pregnant." Ivy gave a small shrug. "She swears she doesn’t know where they came from. Thinks it was some kind of prank."

Fucking Mana. There was no way I could explain that to Ivy, though. I’d just let it go for now and deal with Mana later, if she ever showed up again. I had too many questions for her.

"Maybe one of her coworkers messed with her," I muttered, taking a sip of my matcha.

"She hasn’t had anyone over since she moved in with me... except you." Ivy tilted her head with a faint smile. "Maybe you’re the culprit?"

"Yeah, you got me. Brilliant detective work."

"Obviously."

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a message from Carrie: ’hey can we meet?’

I stared at it for a few seconds, unsure how to respond. Meeting her would be awkward, but I needed information about Jack Kuinn. She might be useful.

I kept looking at the screen, weighing it out. A simple "yes" should’ve been easy, but even that felt off.

"Jeez, what are you staring at?" Ivy leaned forward, trying to peek.

I quickly gave a thumbs up and slipped the phone back into my pocket. "Mind your business, Mrs. Komb."

"Oh, come on." She leaned back again. "Was it Nala?"

"No, and let’s not talk about Nala right now." I waved that off. "Actually, I want an apology."

She blinked. "For what?"

"For Chase. For not listening to me and trusting that guy instead of your friend."

"I already apologized, Evan. Don’t start again."

"Do it properly."

I activated Crushing Presence, mostly out of curiosity. I didn’t really care about the apology itself. I just wanted to see how the skill worked.

A number appeared above her head. Four. Then five translucent dice formed in my vision. Oh... I put five points into that skill, so I would get five chances? Neat.

The first rolled and landed on one. A small X appeared. The second rolled and landed on five. A green checkmark flashed with SUCCESS.

Interesting.

Ivy let out a breath. "Fine. I’m sorry. Again."

"Nice. Thank you."

"Fuck you."

"Promise?"

"Shut up." She shook her head, but there was a smile there. "God... what a week. I just want to sleep and wake up when all of this is over."

"Same."

"I don’t know." She rubbed her arm lightly. "I just feel drained. Honestly, I wish I could find someone like you. Like, I mean, relationship-wise."

"Sorry, Ivy Komb. I’m taken..." I paused. "Well, not anymore."

"You just missed the biggest opportunity of your life, Marlowe." She pointed at me. "A CEO slipped right through your fingers. You’re an idiot. I-d-i-o-t."

"Ouch."

She glanced at her watch. "I should go. Promised my mom we’d go shopping, even though we still can’t stand each other."

"So you’re on better terms now?"

"I... don’t know."

"Well, that’s something."

She stood up. "See you, jobless idiot."

"Very funny."

I watched her stretch for a second. As she passed by, she bumped my shoulder lightly with a playful smirk before heading out.

"Damn," I muttered. "What a day... what a fucking day."

⟁ ⟁ ⟁

Carrie fucking Beldenwary. The one woman the public adored—the same woman I’d degraded and fucked right under her adopted son’s nose. Meeting her now, as if we were just two socialites catching up over a vintage vintage, felt surreal. Doing it in a restaurant that screamed luxury with every step I took onto the polished marble? That was going to be interesting.

I arrived early, hoping to acclimate to the sheer opulence of the place. The restaurant, perched on the topmost floor of a glass-and-steel skyscraper, offered a panoramic view of the city that made the streetlights below look like a bed of dying embers. A live string quartet played somewhere in the corner, the music a soft, mourning hum that barely rose above the polite clink of crystal and silver. The patrons were the city’s elite—men in tailored three-piece suits and women draped in jewelry that probably cost more than my first apartment.

"Alright... what’s the worst that could happen, huh?" I muttered to myself.

The elevator door chimed, and a liveried attendant, whose sole existence seemed to be opening doors for the ultra-wealthy, bowed as he stepped aside.

There she was. Carrie Beldenwary. Man... this was going to be weird.

Well... Carrie Beldenwary. The woman who tried to steal Kim from me for her damn son. And now, I was going to ask her a favor. great.

She looked as stunning as ever, her short brown hair styled in a chic, sharp bob. She had a voluptuous silhouette, thick in all the right places and carrying herself with icy grace. She wore a backless cocktail dress of deep emerald silk that clung to her curves like a second skin, the hem stopping just high enough to tease. Large, dark sunglasses masked her eyes, adding a layer of celebrity mystique to her arrival.

Heads turned instantly. Waitresses faltered in their steps, and even the high-rolling patrons paused their conversations to steal a glance. Carrie offered a brief, regal greeting to a man in a stiff uniform, likely the owner, before her gaze locked onto mine. I gave a slow, measured nod; she mirrored the gesture with a tilt of her head.