Chapter 3 No one cared

_Ivy's POV_ I packed quickly. It didn't take long-seven years in this house, and I still had almost nothing to show for it. A few boxes of clothes, some books, and the photo of my mother I kept in the nightstand drawer. That was the whole of my life here. I was halfway down the stairs, suitcase in hand, when I saw Grace,Theodore's mother, sitting on the living room couch, waiting. A cup of tea balanced in her hand, her eyes moving slowly from my face to the suitcase and back again. The corner of her mouth lifted, just slightly. She wasn't here by accident. She was waiting for me. "Down so late," she said, setting the cup aside. "I half expected you to hide up there until dark." She didn't wait for an answer. She kept going, like she'd rehearsed every word of it beforehand. "I've told you before, that hospital job was never suitable. A married woman, spending her days in an emergency room like some common girl with nothing better to do." "Well, now's the perfect time to fix it. Alexandra's moving in to rest," she took a sip of her tea and looked at me, "and you'll quit and stay home to look after her properly." I stared at her, certain for a moment that I'd misheard. "You want me to be her nurse." "I want you to be useful," Grace said. "For once." "No." I picked my suitcase back up. "Find someone else." Her face hardened instantly. "This is exactly the attitude that's kept you barren all these years. No wonder Theodore's never managed to give this family an heir with you." She let that sit, watching for the wound to land. "You should be thanking Alexandra, not sulking like a jealous child. She's doing what you never could. Do you have any idea how many years Theodore has been laughed at because of your empty womb?" Something in me went very still and very cold. "Theodore was the one who didn't want children," I said, quiet and level. "He said so the week we married. And somehow, seven years later, that's become my failure." "Well, whose fault is it, then?" Grace's voice sharpened. "If you'd known how to keep your husband's affections, none of this would have happened." "Alexandra's barely been back a few months, and already she's pregnant." She tilted her head, feigning pity. "And meanwhile, you couldn't manage it in seven years. Anyone could tell who is useless." I stood on the bottom step, my fingers tightening around the suitcase handle until they hurt. For one second, I wanted to hurl it straight at the floor. But that would only make my exit messier than it needed to be. I let my grip loosen and walked past her instead. "Wait," Grace's voice stopped me, imperious as ever. "Before you go, run to the market. Alexandra needs proper nutrition. I've made a list." I turned back to look at her. "A minute ago, you accused me of jealousy. Now you're handing me an errand where I'd have every opportunity to poison her food. Aren't you worried?" Grace's face went rigid for a moment, then eased back into a sneer. "You wouldn't dare. Lay one finger on her, and Theodore will tear you apart with his own hands." "Then by all means, try me." Her mouth twitched, but she brushed past it. "Stop being clever. You know you'd never risk it." "Alexandra's carrying a boy. I'm certain of it. The heir this pack has been waiting for." Her chin lifted. "Harm him, and every wolf in this territory will hunt you down." Something in that sentence caught my attention immediately. "What if it's a girl?" "How could it be?" Grace said, as if the very idea offended her. "My son's first child will not be a girl. Starfalls has never had a female Alpha, and it never will. That won't change. Not ever." The certainty in her voice landed harder than she probably intended. Ophelia's face flashed in front of me, and for once I was almost grateful she wasn't here to hear this. Grace, mistaking my silence for surrender, seemed ready to lecture me further when an Omega servant appeared at the doorway. "Ma'am, sorry to interrupt-it's the nursery. The mobile above the crib, we have two options, and I can't decide which one Miss Cyrus would prefer. Could you come take a look?" Grace let out a short, irritated breath. "Honestly, must I decide everything myself?" She was already moving toward the door, smoothing her sleeve as she went. At the threshold, she turned back just long enough to fix me with a final look. "You'd do well to listen to me, Ivy. Or I'll make sure you regret it." I barely watched her go. I was too busy sitting with the thought that had just settled cold and certain in my chest-even if I told this family the truth about Ophelia right now, she would never be treated fairly under this roof. Not as a girl. I looked around at the house, at everyone rushing to prepare a nursery for the woman who'd walked into my marriage and never once had to answer for it. It was almost funny how much effort they were putting into welcoming her in. Almost funny, and almost a relief-because it meant I no longer had to wonder whether I was making the right choice. I bent down, picked up my suitcase, and pushed open the door. I didn't look back. . . . _Author's POV_ The meeting had run hours over. By the time Theodore walked through the front door, his tie was loosened and his patience thinner than usual. He stopped two steps into the living room. The curtains were gone-replaced with something pink and gold, edged in lace that hadn't been there yesterday. The couch had a matching throw draped over it, delicate and entirely wrong for a room he'd never once thought needed changing. "Who ordered this?" he asked. The Omega servant near the staircase flinched slightly at being addressed. "Mrs. Woodrow, sir. Grace." She paused and continued carefully, "She said the previous décor was chosen by Luna Ivy, and given that-given seven years without a child-she thought it best not to risk any bad luck for Miss Cyrus and her baby. So she had it all replaced." Theodore opened his mouth. He wanted to say that seven years without a child wasn't something that could be pinned on one person. But arguing with his mother only ever bought him a longer lecture, so he pressed two fingers against his brow instead and let it go. "Keep the nursery items to the first floor," he said. "Leave the second floor as it is." He climbed the stairs, and something felt off before he could name it. The hallway carried a scent that was almost too faint to register-Ivy's, always so thin it barely registered as an Omega's at all-and tonight it was fainter still, like it was already fading out of the walls. He passed her door. It was half open. Her old coat still hung on the rack inside. Her things were still scattered across the vanity, same as always. But something in the room had changed, and it took him a second to place it. The framed photo on the nightstand had been turned face-down. Their wedding photo. He remembered the day clearly-how he'd stood there expressionless through the entire shoot, how the photographer had practically begged him to move a muscle. He'd always thought the photo looked staged, fake, two people performing something neither of them felt. But he'd never once considered throwing it away. Now it lay flat against the wood, like someone had turned it over on purpose. He stopped in the doorway. His eyes stayed on the frame for a beat longer than he meant them to. Some part of him thought about walking in and setting it upright again. Then he told himself that was ridiculous-it was a photograph, nothing more, not worth the thought he was giving it. He looked away. And his Beta reached him through the mind-link before he'd taken a single step. 'Alpha, the northern border patrol's flagged something. Need you downstairs.' He didn't look back a second time. She'd probably knocked it over cleaning, he told himself, and forgotten to set it right. Or she'd flipped it on purpose, some small act of spite meant for him to find later. Either way, it could wait until she came home. He didn't ask where she was. He didn't need to. Whether she was on shift or pulling an overnight at the hospital, she always came back. She always had. It had never occurred to him that he might need to keep track of her comings and goings. Why would it? Downstairs, Grace's voice carried through the house, directing servants to move furniture from one room to another, every sound in the house rearranging itself to make room for someone new. Theodore switched on the light in his study and let the noise fade into the background, one more thing he didn't need to think about tonight. He didn't notice that at the far end of the second-floor hallway, the last trace of Ivy's scent was already gone.