Chapter 4: She's My Girlfriend
953 Words
Ivy.
I stumbled away from Tyler’s estate, my bare feet throbbing against the pavement.
Every step was a reminder of how completely my life had collapsed.
Under my skin, Nyx prowled restlessly.
"That arrogant bastard." she snarled. "Fine. We don’t need his pity."
Hailing a cab felt like surrender, but I had nowhere else to go.
The driver kept stealing glances in the rearview mirror, his nose wrinkling at my disheveled state. I didn’t blame him. I looked and smelled like I’d been dragged out of a rain-soaked gutter.
The ride was silent except for the hum of tires on wet ground.
He turned the corner onto my street and my heart spiked.
“Stop right here!” I blurted, thrusting cash at the driver before tumbling out.
Maya stood outside my apartment building, casually tossing heavy black trash bags onto the curb like yesterday’s garbage.
My clothes, books, and framed photos spilled onto the wet concrete. She looked fresh and smug, wearing one of my favorite old robes like she owned it.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I demanded, voice hoarse with rage.
Maya eyed me up and down, then dramatically pinched her nose. “b***h, you need a serious shower. Oh, wait. Sorry. You don't even have a bathroom anymore.”
“What do you mean I don’t have a bathroom?” I snapped, gesturing at the brick exterior. “You’re standing in front of my house. This is my place.”
“Oh, this?” Maya pointed at the building with a cruel smile. “It’s officially mine now.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” My gaze shifted as Mrs. Elliot, the building manager, stepped out with a clipboard.
“Mrs. Elliot,” I called, approaching fast. “I need this lying slut removed from my apartment.”
Mrs. Elliot avoided my eyes. “Actually, Miss Carter, your lease expired months ago. She paid a year upfront. Technically, the lease is in her name.”
“No... No, that's impossible.” Panic clawed at my throat.
“Good luck, Miss Carter,” Mrs. Elliot said flatly, turning away.
Before I could process it, Maya reached for the framed photo of my parents. The one taken right before the accident that stole them when I was ten. The only physical memory I had left.
I rushed forward, grabbing the edge of the frame.
“Let go, b***h!” Maya thundered.
“No... please. Anything but this,” I begged, panic melting my anger.
Maya yanked harder, eyes gleaming with malice. “Pathetic. Still clinging to dead people’s pictures while your life burns.”
She gave one final violent tug, then let go.
The portrait flew from my grip. I lunged, but my bare foot slipped on the wet pavement.
My head cracked against the concrete with a sickening thud.
Shards of glass scattered like fallen stars.
The last thing I saw before darkness took me was my parents’ fractured faces staring back.
***
The rhythmic beep of medical machines pulled me back.
A dull throb radiated from the back of my skull. Tight bandages tugged at my hair.
“Miss Carter.” A man in a crisp suit sat beside my hospital bed. “Where... where am I? How did I get here?”
My voice was raspy, throat parched.
“Mr. Vane carried you in himself,” the man explained smoothly. “Wouldn’t let the paramedics touch you. The doctor says you’ll need to rest before—”
My gaze drifted to the TV mounted on the wall.
It showed a live pregame interview. Noah stood before a microphone with Maya pressed against his side, flashing a victor’s smile.
My stomach twisted.
I grabbed the remote, cranking the volume.
“Ivy... no,” Noah said, voice dripping with false sorrow. “She never thought of me as her boyfriend. She was just using me. But this woman right here...” He pulled Maya into a deep kiss.
The crowd murmured.
“This gold was standing in front of me the whole time, but that conniving b***h never let me see it.”
“So you and Miss—” the interviewer started.
“Maya,” she chimed in, smiling.
“You’re officially a thing now?”
“Yes, we are,” Noah agreed, arm around her waist.
I hissed through my teeth, pain and betrayal warring in my chest.
Nyx snarled. “That two faced bitch.”
The interviewer turned to the other side of the panel. “Mr. Vane, as team captain, is there anything you’d like to say regarding these allegations?”
Tyler loomed over the microphone in his Thunder gear, tattoos peeking from his jersey. His expression was carved from ice. He glared at Noah with pure disdain, feral Alpha eyes glowing under the lights.
“This man right here,” Tyler said, voice low and dangerous, echoing through the speakers.
He gestured sharply toward Noah. “Is a liar and a complete fraud.”
The crowd gasped. The interviewer looked stunned. “What exactly do you mean, Mr. Vane?”
“The person who leaked those classified team documents was absolutely not Ivy Carter,” Tyler stated firmly.
“How can you be certain?” the interviewer pressed, leaning in.
The camera zoomed tight on Tyler. His gaze hardened, sweeping the arena as if claiming every inch of territory. He stared directly into the lens, locking eyes with the camera like he knew who was watching from a hospital bed miles away.
The suspense grew suffocating as he paused.
“Because,” Tyler delivered smoothly, voice cutting through silence like a blade.
“She’s my girlfriend."
- Writer
