Chapter 6 - The Trap is Set
For two days, Ivy stayed in Daniel’s suite. Daniel had instructed the head cook, a kind woman named Mrs. Gable, to bring Ivy’s meals directly to the room.
Stella and Diane were eerily quiet. They didn't venture near the west wing, but the silence was not peace—it was preparation.
On Saturday evening, Raymond Harrington entered Daniel’s study while Daniel was reviewing contract files.
"Daniel," Raymond said, closing the door behind him. "We need to talk."
Daniel looked up from his desk. "If this is about Ivy staying in my suite—"
"It's not," Raymond interrupted, taking a seat. "It's about the annual Harrington Logistics Gala next Saturday."
Daniel frowned. "What about it?"
"Your mother has invited three hundred of New York’s most prominent shareholders, politicians, and socialites," Raymond said, his face lined with deep worry. "She plans to announce your permanent appointment as Chief Executive Officer of the global firm."
Daniel leaned back. "I already knew that."
"What you don't know," Raymond added quietly, "is that she has also invited Julianna Vance—the daughter of Senator Vance. Stella intends to announce your engagement to Julianna at the gala."
Daniel’s jaw clenched tightly. "She can announce whatever she wants. I won't marry Julianna. I've met her twice; she’s as vain and manipulative as Diane."
"Stella knows that," Raymond warned. "She’s setting a public trap for you, Daniel. If you reject Julianna on stage in front of the board, the board will view you as unstable, and the stock price will plunge. Stella is using the company to force you into line."
Daniel stood up, walking to the window overlooking the dark courtyard. "Then she doesn't know me as well as she thinks she does."
He turned back to his father. "Where is Ivy?"
"She was resting in your room ten minutes ago," Raymond said.
At that exact moment, the door to Daniel’s suite opened quietly across the hall.
Diane stood in the hallway, wearing a false smile, holding a silver tray with a glass of warm milk.
"Ivy?" Diane said sweetly, stepping into the room. "Mom sent this up for you. She wants to apologize for what happened on the stairs."
Ivy sat up on the bed, her ankle brace still secured. She looked at Diane with deep suspicion. "Your mother sent me milk?"
"She realizes she was too hard on you," Diane lied, setting the glass on the nightstand. "She wants peace, Ivy. Drink it. It will help you sleep."
Ivy looked at the milk, then looked at Diane’s eyes. There was a faint, nervous flicker in Diane's pupils that instantly triggered Ivy’s survival instincts.
"Thank you, Diane," Ivy said calmly. "Set it down."
"Drink it now," Diane urged, her voice growing slightly demanding. "I need to take the glass back down."
Ivy picked up the glass, raised it to her lips, and pretended to take a long sip, keeping her tongue pressed against the rim so not a drop entered her mouth. She wiped her mouth with a napkin.
"Delicious," Ivy said. "Thank you."
Diane grinned—a cold, triumphant expression—picked up the empty napkin, and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
Ivy immediately spit the tiny drop of liquid on her tongue into a handkerchief. It tasted faintly metallic and bitter.
May you like
"Sedatives," Ivy whispered to herself.
She looked at her bed, then looked at the window. Stella wasn't trying to make peace. She was preparing to move a sleeping piece off the board before the gala.
