---- Chapter 10 Ivy Farley POV: The silence was shattered by the crack of a gunshot. Holden, in a blind rage, fired his weapon into the sound system, the speakers exploding in a shower of sparks and plastic. He was trying to kill the words, to erase the evidence of his monstrosity. He whirled on me, his face a mask of primal fury. "You," he snarled, raising his gun. "You bitch." | didn't flinch. | slowly pushed myself out of the chair, my movements deliberate, almost lazy. | let my fur coat slip from my shoulders, revealing the tactical holster strapped to my thigh. | drew my weapon, the customized pearl-handled pistol he had given me for our tenth anniversary, and cocked it. The sound was a definitive click in the tense air. "Any last words, Holden?" | asked, my voice as cold as the lake water beneath us. He stared at me, his chest heaving. The rage in his eyes warred with something else, something that looked terrifyingly like pity. "| was trying to protect you," he said, his voice strained. "From the shame. From the pain of not being able to have children. | did it all for you." ---- The lie was so audacious, so utterly self-serving, that | laughed. | walked towards him, stopping just out of his reach. "For me?" | swung my gun, not the barrel, but the heavy pearl handle, cracking it against the side of his head. He stumbled, a dark trickle of blood running down his temple. "You call this protection?" | grabbed the front of his shirt, my knuckles digging into his chest. "You poisoned my body. You hired a whore to carry a child you think will be 'pure.' You called me dirty, Holden. Unclean. To my face, you swore we would heal together, but behind my back, you were building a new life on the ashes of my trauma." He didn't resist as | shoved him backward. "Do you think our brothers, the ones who died to put us on this throne, would be proud of you now? Scheming to create a new dynasty with the daughter of our most hated enemy?" His head snapped up at that. | had figured it out. The final piece of his disgusting puzzle. "That's who she is, isn't she?" | spat, gesturing to a terrified Kaela. "Geraldo Jones's secret daughter. This wasn't just about a 'pure' heir. This was a power play. You marry her, have a child, and unite the two biggest empires in Chicago under your control. You were going to absorb his entire operation." | raised my gun and shot him in the hand, the one holding his weapon. He cried out, the gun clattering to the deck. | kicked it away. ---- "Did you forget who | am?" | screamed, my voice raw. "Did you think | would just roll over and accept this? | am Ivy Farley. | built this empire with my own two hands, with my own blood. And | will not have it stolen by a paranoid, pathetic man and his little puppet." He cradled his bleeding hand, his eyes filled with a pain that went deeper than the physical wound. "Ivy... please." A new voice, slow and amused, cut through the tension. "What a magnificent performance." A man stepped out of the shadows from the yacht's lower deck. He was older, impeccably dressed, with silver hair and eyes as cold and gray as a winter storm. Geraldo Jones. My blood ran cold. He was supposed to be in hiding, his empire crumbling. "A father couldn't be more proud," Geraldo said, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he looked directly at me. Holden's face went white. He looked from Geraldo to me, his mind racing, putting the pieces together. "No... it can't be." Kaela, who had been cowering behind the altar, suddenly straightened up. The fear and naivety vanished from her face, replaced by a cold, disciplined composure. She was no longer a pawn. She was a soldier. ---- "You got it all wrong, Holden," Geraldo said, taking a step closer. "You were right about the plan. Uniting our empires through a child. You just picked the wrong daughter." He looked at Kaela, then his gaze settled on me, holding a strange mix of pride and regret. "Kaela is a loyal operative, nothing more. My true heir, my lost daughter... has always been you, Ivy." The world stopped. The deck beneath my feet seemed to fall away. My gun felt impossibly heavy in my hand. Geraldo Jones. The man who had orchestrated the attack that killed my son. My father? It was a lie. A trick. It had to be. "He's lying," | choked out, my eyes darting between Geraldo and Holden. Holden was staring at me, a look of dawning horror on his face. He finally understood. He hadn't been playing chess; he had been a piece in a much larger game. A game orchestrated by my... father. "It's true," Kaela said, her voice flat and emotionless. She pulled a small pistol from a holster hidden in the folds of her wedding dress. "And the Chairman sends his regards." She aimed the gun not at me, but at Holden. "Kaela, no!" Holden cried out, his eyes pleading. ---- Two shots rang out, deafening in the night air. Holden crumpled to the deck, two red blossoms appearing on the crisp white of his wedding shirt, right over his heart. His eyes found mine, filled with a universe of shock, betrayal, and a final, agonizing glimmer of the love he had so monstrously corrupted. | stood frozen, my husband dying at my feet, his blood pooling on the deck of the wedding yacht he had built for another woman. And before me stood my greatest enemy, the man who had destroyed my life, claiming to be my father. The truth, in all its devastating horror, had finally come out. And it had left me completely, utterly alone.