The abandoned warehouse loomed around Ivy like a ghost of her own making—cold, echoing, and full of shadows. It was the same ce she''de to once, weeks ago, for a secret meeting with that man her mother had rmended. Back then, it had felt like a ce of possibility.

    Now it was a tomb and a hideout for her.

    She sat on the dusty floor, her back pressed to the cracked concrete wall, her knees drawn to her chest. Just a few feet from her, the blood-slick knife—the one that had ended her mother''s lifey in the dirt, catching the faint light spilling through a broken window.

    Her eyes locked onto it and the memory of what had happened struck like lightning—sharp and searing.

    The weight of the knife in her hand. Her mother''s voice—pleading, furious, trying to reason with her. The scuffle. The slippery handle. The sickening sound as the de sliced through flesh. The way her mother''s eyes had widened in disbelief… the gasp that barely escaped her lips… the slow copse to the cold kitchen floor.

    Ivy''s body jerked, a shudder rolling through her as she buried her face in her hands, tears rushing down her cheeks like a broken dam.

    "No," she whispered. "No, no, no, no…"

    She rocked slightly, her breath hitching, tears spilling even faster now. "I didn''t mean for this to happen. I didn''t mean it. It was a mistake… It was all a mistake… I didn''t kill her," she kept whispering out loud.

    But even as she spoke, the image of her mother''s face—pale, shocked, fading—was etched behind her eyes, pulsing like a haunting film loop she couldn''t shut off.

    She wed at her hair, her sobs turning guttural. "Stop it! Stop it, stop it, STOP!" she screamed into the emptiness, as if her voice alone could drown the torment of what she''d done.

    But no matter how loudly she screamed, the silence only grew heavier, reminding her she was alone.

    Her gaze darted back to the knife again. No matter how hard she tried not to think of what had happened, the more the thought flooded her head.

    It hadn''t meant to go this far. She hadn''t wanted this. This shouldn''t be her reality. What had happened wasn''t what she''d hoped for when she picked up that knife.

    What could''ve happened to her mom now? Was she dead? No! She couldn''t be dead. That cut couldn''t have killed her. No.

    She clutched at her arms, murmuring through clenched teeth, "Abeni… Abeni came in time. She must''ve saved her. She called for help. The ambnce came. They would''ve gotten there fast. She''s not dead. She can''t be," she kept saying not wanting to believe she''d killed her mom and had run off.

    Ivy scrambled for her phone with trembling fingers, swiping up the screen as she searched frantically. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she opened the news app wanting to see if there was any news of what had happened and if her mother was alive.

    Her mother had to be alive. If she could live, Ivy swore she''d forget everything about Ruby and just let her be—as long as Regina could live.

    She''d forget about her humiliation and just do what her mom had said. All she hoped for was for her mom to live.

    Her eyes scanned the headlines, searching to see if there was anything on the incidence. And then—her eyes caught it.

    Her heart beat doubled and she closed her eyes to pray. "Please God, if she lives, I''ll stop all this. I''ll be a better daughter and stop causing her trouble. I''ll change for good."

    After making the promise, she slowly opened her eyes and scanned through.

    BREAKING: REGINA QUINN CONFIRMED DEAD FOLLOWING STABBING INCIDENT AT QUINN ESTATE. DAUGHTER IVY QUINN WANTED IN CONNECTION.

    Her heart skipped a beat and without meaning to, her fingers dropped the phone. It hit the ground with a dull thud.

    Her body froze and for a few seconds she couldn''t breathe.

    "No…" she whispered again, but it sounded different this time—t. Hollow. She quickly nced through the whole article wanting to confirm. Not wanting to believe just one, she went though every other post in connection to the incidence and they all said the same thing.

    "She was confirmed dead on arrival."

    Tears spilled down her cheeks anew, only this time they came with rage. She curled her hands into fists and beat the floor beside her, screaming into the void. "She wasn''t supposed to die! I didn''t mean it!"

    Her breaths came in ragged bursts, her face streaked with sweat and tears. "If she''d just let me do what I wanted… like she always did! Why did she have to change now? Why didn''t she just let me finish Ruby off?! She would''ve been alive! This wouldn''t have happened!"

    Ivy stared down at her palms, shaking. Her voice cracked under the weight of grief and bitterness. "Now I have to go to prison… for a murder I didn''t n. For an ident. For mistakenly killing my own mother! The only one that supported her through everything. What sort of a joke is this?"

    The warehouse echoed with her breathing as the silence settled once again.

    Then, slowly, her expression changed. Changed from grief to anger.

    Her tears dried. Her jaw clenched. Her eyes burned with something darker.

    "No," she whispered. "I won''t be caught. I''m not going to rot in a cell while Ruby gets to live happily. No. No. There was no point letting Ruby live if thier mother had died trying to defend her. Besides, my prayers weren''t answered so I''ll take this as a sign."

    She turned and looked at the knife again. For a second, she just stared. Then she reached for it and gripped the handle tightly, her knuckles white.

    "This is all Ruby''s fault," she said, her voice low and menacing. "If our mother hadn''t insisted on protecting her, she''d still be alive. She chose Ruby over me—and now she''s dead because of it."

    She stood up, slowly, her eyes wild with purpose. The knife felt heavy in her hand, grounding her, anchoring her to the only certainty she had left—vengeance.

    "This ends today."

    She pulled out her phone again and dialed.

    The phone rang once before a deep male voice answered.

    "Hello?"

    "Where is she?" Ivy asked coldly.

    There was a pause. Then the voice replied cautiously, "At the hospital. Right now."

    Ivy''s grip on the knife tightened. "Good. I''ming."

    Another pause. "Any orders?"

    Ivy''s lips curled into something twisted—half smile, half snarl.

    "Yes. I need you to do something for me," she said softly and went ahead to tell him what she needed him to do. Once she was done, she hung up.

    And in the silence of that crumbling warehouse, Ivy walked out, carrying the knife, her broken heart, and her dangerous resolve.