Chapter 5 - The Snake’s Last BiteThree weeks passed in a blur of luxury, passion, and intense work.
Ivy had completely taken over the management of the newly acquired docks, earning the respect of the dockworkers who appreciated her fair wages, sharp organization, and genuine care for their working conditions. She no longer wore dark colors; she embraced her full figure in vibrant, stunning dresses that made Ronan’s eyes darken with lust every time she walked into a room.
Their relationship was no longer a secret. Ronan brought her to every high-society event, holding her hand proudly, kissing her in full view of Philadelphia’s elite, and publicly declaring his devotion to her.
However, danger still lurked in the shadows.
It was a rainy Tuesday evening. Ronan was delayed at an urgent meeting across town with the city mayor, leaving Ivy at Blackwood Manor to finalize the monthly financial audit for the docks.
Ivy was working in the primary office when the lights suddenly flickered and died.
The entire manor was plunged into pitch-black darkness.
Ivy froze, her heart instantly racing. “Malcolm?” she called out.
Silence.
She reached for her phone on the desk, using the flashlight feature to illuminate the room. As she stepped out into the hallway, she heard a soft thud, followed by the sound of glass breaking near the rear conservatory.
Ivy felt a cold dread wash over her. Ronan’s house guards were top-tier, but the sudden blackout meant someone had cut the main power grid and bypassed the security protocols from the inside.
She slowly backed away toward Ronan’s desk, reaching for the hidden drawer where she knew he kept a spare 9mm pistol. Her fingers wrapped around the heavy steel handle just as a shadow stepped out from the darkness of the hallway.
“Looking for this?” a raspy, bitter voice asked.
The beam of a high-powered flashlight hit Ivy’s eyes, blinding her.
When her eyes adjusted, she saw Victor Hale standing in the doorway. He looked unhinged—his clothes rumpled, his hair messy, and his eyes bloodshot with rage. In his hand, he held a silenced handgun.
Behind him stood Vivian, wearing a rain-soaked trench coat, her face twisted into a mask of pure madness.
“You ruined us,” Vivian hissed, stepping into the room. “My father is bankrupt! Our house is being foreclosed! And it’s all because of you, you fat little parasite!”
Ivy kept her hand hidden behind her back, her fingers gripping the pistol tightly. She forced her voice to remain calm. “Victor, put the gun down. Ronan will be back in twenty minutes. If he finds you here, he won't let you leave alive.”
“Ronan isn't coming back in twenty minutes!” Victor cackled manically. “We paid his driver fifty thousand dollars to leak his route! My men have ambushed his car on the highway! By now, Ronan Blackwood is bleeding out on the asphalt!”
Ivy’s heart dropped into her stomach. No. Not Ronan.
“You lie,” Ivy spat, her eyes filling with tears of rage.
“It doesn't matter if you believe us,” Vivian sneered, stepping closer and pulling a small glass vial of acid from her pocket. “Before we leave this city forever, I’m going to make sure no man ever looks at you again. I’m going to destroy that ugly face of yours, and then my father is going to put a bullet through your heart.”
Vivian raised the vial, preparing to unscrew the cap.
In that fraction of a second, four years of hardship, fear, and submission died inside Ivy Lancaster. She wasn't the weak maid who let people walk over her anymore. She was the woman loved by Ronan Blackwood.
Ivy pulled the 9mm pistol from behind her back, aimed straight at Victor’s chest, and squeezed the trigger.
BANG!
The gunshot echoed like thunder through the dark room.
Victor gasped, dropping his gun as the bullet tore through his shoulder. He collapsed onto the rug, groaning in agony.
Vivian screamed in terror, dropping the glass vial of acid. It shattered on the floor, the chemical burning harmlessly into the hardwood. She scrambled backward, looking up at Ivy with wide, terrified eyes.
Ivy stood tall over both of them, her hands holding the heavy gun perfectly steady, her face cold and unyielding as she aimed the barrel directly between Vivian’s eyes.
“Touch me again,” Ivy whispered, echoing Ronan’s words from the night they first met, “and you will leave this world with nothing.”
Before Vivian could even beg for mercy, the grand double doors of the office burst open.
A dozen armed guards swarmed the room with high-powered flashlights, followed by a towering figure drenched in rain and blood.
“IVY!”
It was Ronan.
He rushed into the room, his black coat covered in road dust and blood—not his own, but the blood of the men who had tried to ambush him on the highway. He took one look at Victor on the floor, Vivian groaning in terror, and Ivy standing proud and unharmed with a smoking gun in her hand.
Ronan dropped his own weapon and threw his arms around Ivy, pulling her tightly against his chest as if he would never let her go again.
“I’m here,” Ronan growled softly, kissing her hair, her cheeks, her forehead over and over again. “I’m here, my love. You’re safe.”
Ivy finally let the pistol drop from her hands, wrapping her arms around his neck and sobbing tears of pure relief against his neck. “I thought... I thought they killed you...”
“It takes more than a few mercenaries to kill me,” Ronan whispered, his hands cradling her face as he looked deep into her eyes. “And nobody touches my queen.”
He turned his dark, lethal gaze down toward Victor and Vivian Hale.
“Malcolm,” Ronan commanded coldly.
“Yes, Mr. Blackwood?” the butler replied, stepping out from the shadows.
May you like
“Call the police. Hand over the evidence of their trespassing, their attempted murder, and Victor’s illegal shipping fraud. Make sure they spend the rest of their miserable lives in a maximum-security prison.”
“With pleasure, sir.”
