Chapter Three: "New Grounds".
1350 Words
The cabin was silent except for the low hum of the refrigerator. Ivy stared out the window, arms crossed, trying to convince herself that this place was safe. It wasn’t home—nowhere near—but it was quiet, and quiet was all she needed.
No paparazzi. No gossiping coworkers. No Ethan.
She sighed and rubbed her face. Stop thinking about him.
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Adapting to Solitude
For years, Ivy had thrived on schedules and structure—corporate meetings, back-to-back emails, Ethan’s demanding pace. Here, in the stillness of the woods, she felt… lost.
She tried to fill her day with simple tasks: unpacking the groceries she’d managed to grab, attempting to connect to the cabin’s weak Wi-Fi to look for remote work, even taking a short walk down the gravel path.
But the silence pressed on her like a weight. Every little sound—wind in the trees, creak of the floorboards—made her heart race. She hated it. She hated feeling like prey.
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The Threat Becomes Real
By late afternoon, Ivy decided to step outside for some fresh air, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders as she sat on the porch. For a brief moment, the scenery calmed her—dense woods, a fading orange sky, and the faint smell of pine in the air.
Then she saw it.
A black sedan parked at the edge of the road, engine idling, headlights off. She froze, gripping the blanket tighter.
No one moved inside the car, but she could feel their eyes. Watching. Waiting.
Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her frozen state. She looked down at the screen: Unknown Number.
Against her better judgment, she answered. “Hello?”
A pause. Then a smooth, mocking voice: “Miss Scott. You shouldn’t have run.”
Ivy’s blood went cold. “Who is this?”
“Oh, you know who I am.” A chuckle, sharp and cruel. “Oliver Grant. I’d love to come say hello, but you seem… shy.”
Her grip tightened on the phone. “Stay away from me.”
“You see, that’s the problem.” His voice darkened. “You’re involved in something bigger than you understand, Ivy. And you’re going to come back to the city—quietly—or things will get very, very complicated.”
The call ended. The sedan’s headlights flicked on, and slowly, it rolled away.
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Sophie’s Call
Her hands trembled as she dialed Sophie.
“Ivy! Thank God!” Sophie’s voice was frantic. “Where are you? Do you even know what’s happening online? Someone leaked a story—pictures, Ivy. Of you and Ethan at that gala last month. They’re calling you—”
“I know,” Ivy interrupted, voice breaking. “I just… I can’t deal with it right now.”
“Then talk to Ethan! He’s losing it. He thinks something happened to you!”
But Ivy couldn’t. Not with the fear twisting in her stomach, not with the memory of Oliver’s voice still ringing in her ears. “Sophie, promise me you won’t tell anyone where I am. Please.”
There was a long pause, then Sophie whispered, “Ivy… are you in some kind of danger?”
Her throat tightened. “Just promise me.”
---
She hung up and turned off the phone, her body trembling. Outside, the road was empty again, but the silence no longer felt peaceful.
Something scraped against the porch.
Her heart lurched, and she grabbed the nearest thing she could use as a weapon—a fireplace poker. She stepped toward the door, every nerve on edge.
Another sound, closer this time—a slow, deliberate footstep.
And then, through the door, a familiar voice she hadn’t expected to hear this far from the city.
“Ivy… open up.”
Her stomach dropped. That voice belonged to Melissa Reed.
Ivy froze, her grip tightening on the fireplace poker. Melissa Reed? Here?
She stayed silent, her back pressed to the door. Maybe if she didn’t respond, Melissa would leave. But then came another knock, softer, coaxing.
“Ivy, I know you’re in there,” Melissa said, her voice sugary sweet, the kind of tone that set Ivy’s teeth on edge. “We need to talk.”
Ivy considered her options. Melissa had every reason to hate her, every reason to try something now that Ivy was vulnerable and alone.
“What do you want, Melissa?” Ivy finally called, her voice sharp.
A pause. Then, “To help you.”
Ivy almost laughed. “Help me? Last I checked, you were too busy trying to ruin my life.”
“That’s not true.” Melissa’s voice shifted, lower now, edged with something Ivy couldn’t quite place—desperation? “Look, I heard what Oliver’s doing. He’s dangerous, Ivy. He’s not just after Ethan—he’s after you. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Ivy hesitated. There was something in Melissa’s tone that didn’t match her usual venom. Still, trust didn’t come easy—especially not from someone who once swore Ivy would regret ever stepping into Ethan’s life.
“I don’t believe you,” Ivy said flatly.
Melissa sighed, the sound muffled through the door. “Fine. But I’m staying at the lodge two miles down the road. If you want proof of what I’m saying, come see me before sunset tomorrow. If you don’t…” A pause. “…then good luck staying alive out here.”
Her footsteps retreated, crunching over gravel until the sound disappeared entirely.
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Lingering Fear
Ivy dropped the poker onto the couch, hands shaking. What the hell is she doing here?
Melissa’s presence could only mean one of two things: either she was telling the blurb and Oliver really was escalating… or Melissa was working with him to lure her out.
Neither option gave Ivy comfort.
She paced the small cabin, checking every window twice before locking them all again. Her phone buzzed with another message—this one from Sophie.
Sophie: Are you okay? Ethan’s asking if I’ve heard from you again. Should I tell him you’re safe?
Ivy stared at the message for a long time, her throat tightening. She wanted to say yes, to tell Sophie everything, to let Ethan know she was alive and well. But if she did, Oliver might find her faster.
Instead, she typed: I’m fine. Please keep quiet. Trust me.
Her finger hovered before she pressed send.
---
The Choice to Hide
By evening, Ivy sat at the edge of the bed, Melissa’s words replaying in her head. He’s dangerous, Ivy. He’s after you.
She didn’t doubt Oliver’s cruelty—his phone call earlier proved that. But what game was Melissa playing? Was she here as a twisted peace offering, or a spy sent to keep tabs on her?
Her gut screamed to stay hidden. Yet another part of her, the same stubborn streak that had kept her alive in corporate warfare, whispered that doing nothing would get her cornered.
She stood abruptly, pulling on her jacket. If Melissa wanted to talk, fine. She’d see for herself tomorrow whether the woman was genuine or scheming.
---
The sound of gravel crunching outside stopped her mid-step.
She crept to the window and carefully pulled back the curtain. The black sedan had returned, parked in the same spot as earlier. Only this time, the driver’s door was open, and a man stood there, looking directly at her window.
She ducked down, heart pounding. Whoever he was, he didn’t move, didn’t even pretend to look away. He just stood there, watching.
Then, slowly, he raised his phone and took a picture of the cabin before getting back in the car.
The engine roared to life, and the sedan sped away, leaving only a trail of dust behind.
Ivy’s knees gave out, and she sank onto the floor, hugging herself. Oliver wasn’t just calling to scare her—he was watching. He knew where she was.
And she had no idea if Melissa was a warning… or part of the trap.
- Writer
