Ivy’s POV
And then I slip under his arm and walk away, swaying my hips just enough to taunt him.
Because I might be crazy, but I want that taste of freedom.
Even if I know he’s going to come for me. Even if I want him to.
Later that night, I stand in front of the mirror, heart racing, nerves tangled in my stomach like a coiled spring. The soft fabric of the dress clings to my curves, hugging me in all the right places. It’s not over-the-top. Just simple. Classy. Elegant. But more than anything, it’s me, something that feels like a piece of the old Ivy, the version of me that existed before Alexander turned my world into a beautiful, chaotic storm.
I smooth my hands over the dress, eyeing the reflection one last time. There’s a flicker of guilt, but also a flicker of something else. Ex
