Chapter Two: "On Her Trial".
1546 Words
Oliver Grant watched the news feed from his penthouse suite, swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand. The headline flashing on the screen—“CEO Ethan Thorn in Secret Affair?”—brought a slow, wicked smile to his lips. He paused the video on Ivy’s face, her wide eyes staring back at him.
“So, that’s her,” he muttered. “The assistant who makes the Ice King break character.”
Oliver prided himself on knowing every move Ethan Thorn made. Competition in their world wasn’t just business—it was blood sport. And now, Ethan had given him a weakness.
He picked up his phone and dialed his assistant. “Get me everything you can on Ivy Scott—address, family, friends, social media. I want it in an hour.”
---
Ivy’s Side
Meanwhile, Ivy was stuffing clothes into a suitcase. Her hands shook as she zipped it shut. The moment Sophie had blurted out, You’re pregnant, her carefully built wall of control had cracked.
She hadn’t confirmed it yet—hadn’t even opened the envelope—but deep down, she knew. The nausea in the mornings, the missed cycle, the quiet terror gnawing at her since last week… it all made sense now.
“Where are you going?” Sophie asked, still standing by the door, arms folded, her voice tight with worry.
“I need space. Away from Ethan, from the office, from… everything,” Ivy whispered, brushing past her to grab her coat.
Sophie frowned. “Running away won’t solve anything.”
“It’ll buy me time,” Ivy said, zipping her bag and heading out without another word.
---
Oliver’s Pursuit
Hours later, Oliver’s assistant delivered a neat file. Inside were photos of Ivy, her old college records, her current apartment address, and even a photo of her younger brother, Daniel.
“Perfect,” Oliver said, tossing the file onto the table. “She wants to run? Let’s see where she goes.”
Oliver had always been meticulous, and when he pursued someone, he never failed. He sent one of his men, a discreet investigator, to Ivy’s apartment. Within an hour, the man called back.
“She packed a bag and left, sir. No forwarding address.”
Oliver chuckled. “Find her. I don’t care if you have to track every cab in the city. I want to know exactly where Ethan’s precious assistant is hiding.”
---
The Chase
Ivy sat in the back of a rideshare, heart pounding as the city lights blurred past. She had booked a small cabin outside the city, an hour and a half away, hoping for solitude. She turned her phone to airplane mode—not because of Ethan, but because of the media storm she knew was coming.
What she didn’t know was that Oliver’s investigator had already traced the ride using traffic cams.
Oliver called him again, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Follow, but don’t make contact. I want to surprise her myself.”
The investigator tailed her car quietly, staying just far enough not to be obvious.
---
Ethan Reacts
Back at Thorn Enterprises, Ethan stormed into his office, ignoring the stares of his staff. He had seen the news clip. He had seen Ivy’s face. And now, she wasn’t answering his calls.
“Find her,” he barked at his head of security. “Use the company’s resources if you have to. I want her location in ten minutes.”
For the first time in years, Ethan’s composure cracked. The thought of Ivy alone—pregnant or not—made his chest tighten with something he refused to call fear.
---
The cabin was quiet when Ivy finally arrived, a stark contrast to the chaos of the city. She set her bag down, breathing deeply, telling herself she was safe here, far from Thorn Enterprises, far from Ethan, far from everything.
But outside, a black sedan parked a hundred meters away, its headlights off. Inside, Oliver’s investigator watched through binoculars, a smirk playing at his lips. He tapped his phone and sent a message: Target located. Sending coordinates.
In a sleek car miles away, Oliver glanced at the message and grinned. “Found you,” he whispered. “And you won’t even see me coming.”
The cabin smelled faintly of pine and freshly polished wood. Ivy flicked the light switch and took in her temporary refuge—a single-room space with a kitchenette, a small bed tucked into the corner, and a window overlooking the quiet woods. It wasn’t much, but for now, it was all she needed.
She dropped her bag and collapsed onto the bed, her body trembling from exhaustion and nerves. Her phone, still on airplane mode, buzzed faintly on the nightstand. She stared at it, debating whether to turn it on, but fear gripped her chest. The news, the scandal, Ethan’s reaction—she wasn’t ready to face any of it.
Instead, she lay back, hand over her stomach. She hadn’t told Sophie the full truth, but Sophie wasn’t stupid. If Sophie had connected the dots, it was only a matter of time before Ethan—or worse, the press—did too.
No one can know yet. Not until I figure out what to do.
---
Outside the Cabin
In the black sedan parked down the slope, Oliver’s investigator adjusted his binoculars again. “She’s alone,” he muttered into his phone. “Looks shaken. Probably running from the boss.”
Oliver’s smooth voice came through the speaker. “Good. Don’t engage. I’m on my way.”
He ended the call and leaned back in his leather seat, a satisfied grin forming on his face. This was exactly what he had wanted—leverage. If Ethan Thorn cared about this woman enough to break his sacred no-dating policy, then Oliver had the perfect bargaining chip.
---
Back at Thorn Enterprises
Ethan paced his office like a caged animal, something his staff had never witnessed before. His tie hung loose, the top button of his shirt undone, a small sign of just how far he’d unraveled since seeing Ivy walk out of the building earlier.
His head of security entered. “We’ve traced her last rideshare. She’s outside the city, about ninety minutes away. Rural area. Looks like she doesn’t want to be found.”
Ethan froze. “Send me the coordinates.”
“Sir, with respect, if she left voluntarily—”
“I don’t care!” Ethan snapped, louder than intended. He drew in a sharp breath, forcing himself to calm down. “She’s… she’s important to me. I need to know she’s safe.”
The head of security hesitated but nodded, exiting without another word.
Ethan raked a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath, “Why are you running from me, Ivy?”
---
Ivy’s Conflict
Hours passed before Ivy finally unpacked a few essentials, heating up a ready-made soup from the cabin’s pantry. She sat on the small deck outside, wrapped in a blanket, staring at the blanket of stars above.
Her mind wouldn’t quiet. The image of Ethan’s face—stone-cold but oddly vulnerable in the parking lot—haunted her. Why had she defended him like that? Why had she pulled him away from Oliver instead of letting him deal with it himself?
She sighed, rubbing her temples. “You are officially losing it, Ivy Scott.”
---
The Almost Discovery
Down the slope, Oliver’s investigator stepped out of the car for a closer look, crunching over gravel and dry leaves. He peered through the trees, noting the exact placement of the cabin’s doors and windows.
Then his phone buzzed—Oliver was calling again.
“Sir, I have eyes on the target. She’s inside, alone.”
“Keep it that way,” Oliver said. “I want her to be nervous, not to panic. Tomorrow, I’ll handle it myself.”
But as the investigator turned to leave, a twig snapped underfoot.
Ivy froze on the deck. “Hello?” she called, standing quickly.
The investigator ducked behind a tree, cursing under his breath. He hadn’t planned to spook her yet.
“I must be imagining things,” Ivy muttered after a moment, retreating back inside and locking the door.
From his hiding spot, the investigator smirked. “Nervousness is good.” He retreated to his car, texting Oliver: She’s alert but doesn’t know I’m here. Easy target.
---
Inside, Ivy double-checked the lock and sat on the edge of the bed, heart thudding. Something about tonight felt wrong, as if unseen eyes were watching her. She picked up her phone, finally switching off airplane mode. It lit up with dozens of missed calls—mostly from Ethan.
Her chest tightened. She hovered over his name, tempted to call back, to tell him everything—about the scandal, about her fear, about the possibility of a life growing inside her.
But before she could decide, her phone buzzed again, this time with a text from an unknown number:
“You shouldn’t have run, Ivy. I’ll see you soon.”
She dropped the phone, breath hitching, as she rushed to the window. All she saw was darkness… but she knew she wasn’t alone.
- Writer
