He Won’t Let Me Go

Chapter 2: Sold to pay my father’s debt

IVY’S POV

I woke up to my alarm, showered, and pulled on my work uniform. By the time I reached the hallway, I nearly bumped into Lilith carrying her coffee.

“Watch it,” she snapped.

“Sorry, sorry …. didn’t see you.”

“You never see anyone but yourself.”

“Lilith, come on, I said sorry….”

Her palm cracked across my cheek before I could finish. SMACK!

I stumbled back, hand flying to my face. “What was that for?”

“For existing in my space this early in the morning.”

“I barely touched you.”

“You never barely do anything, Ivy. You just don’t notice the mess you make.”

I should have known better than to keep talking. I never did.

“You’re my stepsister, not my warden. You don’t get to hit me every time you’re in a bad mood.”

Her eyes narrowed, and the second slap came faster than the first, sharper, snapping my head to the side.

“Careful,” she said quietly. “Or I’ll give you a reason to actually complain.”

I pressed my palm to my burning cheek and said nothing. I’d learned, over the years, that saying anything back only bought me a third one. Renata had married my father when I was small, and Lilith had come with her …. older, sharper, and from day one, absolutely certain that I was something to be put in her place rather than a sister to be known. I’d stopped expecting anything else from her a long time ago. It didn’t make it hurt less. It just made it familiar.

She walked off without another glance, and I went down to breakfast with my cheek still stinging, where my father and Renata were already arguing.

“You promised me the creditors would wait,” my father said.

“I said I would speak to them. I never promised they would listen.”

“They listen to you.”

“They don’t, Victor, not anymore. Not after the last default.”

He noticed me standing in the doorway. “What are you staring at?”

“Nothing.”

“Then sit down.”

I took my seat. Renata set a plate in front of me I barely touched.

“Dad, I want to talk to you about something.”

“If this is about money, the answer is no.”

“It’s about work. I want to work at Bellamy Holdings.”

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me explain.”

“I don’t need an explanation.”

“The company is struggling. I know that. Let me help.”

“You have no experience.”

“I can learn.”

“You’ll get in everyone’s way.”

“I have a degree.”

“A degree doesn’t make you capable of running a company.”

“I’m not asking to run it. I’m asking for a position.”

“No.”

“Why won’t you even let me try?”

“Because I said no.”

“You don’t trust me.”

“I don’t trust your judgment.”

“My judgment is good enough to know that something is wrong with this company.”

His jaw tightened. “Ivy.”

“You keep saying the company is failing, but you won’t let me work there, and you won’t tell me what’s happening.”

“You don’t need to know.”

“I do when the company belonged to my mother.”

His expression hardened. “It’s my company.”

“It was hers before it was yours.”

“And now it’s mine.”

I pushed my chair back. “It’s my mother’s company!”

My father stood so abruptly that Renata flinched.

“It’s mine! My own company! Do you understand that? Your mother is dead, and you need to stop dragging her name into every argument we have.”

I stared at him. “You married her, took over everything she built, and now you don’t even want me near it.”

“Because you’re an entitled little b***h who thinks being her daughter gives you the right to inherit everything she touched.”

Renata immediately stepped between us. “Victor, that’s enough.”

He pointed toward me. “Get out.”

I looked at Renata, hoping she would say something.

She didn’t.

I walked away. Behind me, I heard my father mutter, “She’ll never understand.”

I stopped at the doorway but didn’t turn around. “Maybe that’s because nobody ever tells me the truth.”

Then I left for my shift.

The store was its own kind of exhausting. A woman screamed at me for twenty minutes over a late delivery like I’d driven the truck myself. I smiled through it, the way I always did.

Dana, my coworker and friend, caught me by the register afterward, frowning. “Ivy …. what happened to your face?”

“It’s nothing.”

“That’s not nothing, that’s a handprint.”

“Dana, please.”

“Was it her again? Lilith?”

I didn’t answer, which was answer enough. She sighed and squeezed my shoulder, but before she could say more, my manager called me over.

“Corporate’s watching the cameras this week,” he said, eyeing my cheek with distaste rather than concern. “Whatever’s going on at home, keep it off your face on the clock. Customers respond to you. Your face is honestly your biggest asset here …. don’t let anyone mess that up again.”

“I’ll try,” I said, though the marks weren’t something I could exactly schedule.

That night, I sat on my bedroom floor with the one photograph I had of my mother pressed to my chest, and let myself cry until my whole body ached with it.

“I wish you were still here,” I whispered. “I miss you so much.”

I cried myself to sleep still holding it.

The next morning, three men arrived with legal documents. One walked through the sitting room, examining the furniture.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re here on behalf of the creditors. Your father’s company has defaulted on several loans.”

I watched them catalogue the room, piece by piece, until one lifted my mother’s favorite painting off the wall.

“Wait …. not that one.” My voice cracked. “Please. That was my mother’s.”

“It’s collateral, miss.”

“It’s not just a painting, it’s her favorite painting. Please not this one. It’s the only thing in this house that still feels like her….”

“I’m sorry.”

I reached for it anyway, and Renata gently pulled me back as they carried it out the door. I stood in the doorway and watched it go, tears running freely down my face, and nobody in that house stopped what they were doing long enough to notice.

By evening, the creditors were gone, along with half the house’s contents. I went back to the store to find Dana locking up.

“Hey. You still there?”

“Just closing. You okay?”

“Not really. I’m just tired, Dana. Tired of all of it.”

“Want me to come by?”

“No. I’ll be fine.”

I went home and slept, hollow and worn thin.

The next morning, I came downstairs to find my father unusually cheerful, a cup of coffee steaming untouched in front of him.

“Ivy. Sit down. I have wonderful news.”

“…What kind of news?”

“You’re getting married.”

I stared at him. “I’m sorry …. what?”

“To Malachi Cross. Of Cross Industries.” He said the name like it solved every problem he’d ever had. “It’s settled, Ivy. Everything.”

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.