TRAPPED IN A MARRIAGE WITH THE BILLIONAIRE

Chapter Four: New World

"Who exactly did you say will be taking care of Ivy?"

My voice rose before I could stop it. "And where?"

I shook my head, disbelief spreading across my face.

"You're asking me to leave my daughter behind? She just survived surgery, Kristy.

She's five years old."

"Ann—"

"What place is safer for a child than with her mother?" My chest felt tight. "This isn't what I agreed to."

"Actually," Kristy said, her voice steady, "It is. You signed the contract, Ann. Did you read it properly?"

The words hit like cold water.

I had skimmed it. I had been too desperate, too broken at that moment to read every line the way I should have. And now those unread lines were standing in front of me like a wall.

We were outside the hospital on a busy street, people moving past us in every direction. But everything suddenly felt very still, like the noise had been turned down, and I was the only one standing in it.

What have you done, Ann?

Before I could stop myself, I reached out and grabbed her hand.

"Please." My voice broke on the word.

"Don't separate me from my daughter.

Please, Kristy. She just came back to me. She needs me."

My legs gave way beneath me, and I went down before I could catch myself.

Kristy's expression shifted. She glanced around quickly and people were slowing down, looking. She lowered her voice.

"Ann, get up. Please. You're drawing attention."

But I couldn't move. My knees were on the ground, and my hands were still holding hers, and the tears wouldn't stop.

She let out a slow breath. Then she opened the car door behind her.

"Come inside," she said quietly.

I got in. She followed, then almost immediately stepped back out, phone already at her ear.

I sat in the back of that car and tried to pull myself together. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but the call was brief.

When she climbed back in, her expression had shifted slightly.

"In two days," I said quickly, before she could speak. "That's what the doctor said. Two more days before she can be discharged."

Kristy looked at me for a moment.

"Fine," she said. "We'll come back in two days. You can bring Ivy."

I stared at her.

Then relief hit so hard my hands started trembling.

"Thank you," I said. "Thank you, Kristy. I promise I'll hold up my end. I'll follow everything in the agreement. Whatever you need—"

She looked at me, her expression sharpening just slightly.

"I'll remember your exact words today, Ann."

I didn't think much of it then. I was too relieved. Too grateful to read the weight behind what she had just said.

I stepped out of the car and stood on the pavement for a moment.

My appetite was completely gone.

I went straight back inside.

Ivy was awake when I returned to the ward, and she looked more like herself, eyes brighter, color in her cheeks, sitting up slightly against the pillow.

The moment she saw me, her face broke into a smile. "Mummy!"

Something in my chest loosened.

"Look at you." I sat beside her and kissed her forehead. "Getting stronger every day."

She nodded proudly, the way only a five-year-old can.

"Are you hungry?"

She shook her head. I didn't believe her for a second. I stepped out and came back with a small container of fruit. She ate every piece without complaint, which told me everything.

"I love you, Mum," she said afterward, completely unprompted.

I smiled. "I love you more."

She had a way of doing that, saying exactly the right thing without knowing it needed to be said.

We spent the rest of the afternoon together before the nurse came to settle her for the evening. I went home briefly to pack what we'd need, moving quietly through my small apartment, choosing things without thinking too hard about what I was leaving behind.

Starting something new could wait.

I whispered a quiet prayer before I slept. For strength. For Ivy. For whatever was waiting on the other side of this arrangement.

The two days passed faster than they had any right to.

Friday arrived before I had finished processing Wednesday.

I completed Ivy's discharge forms, collected her medications from the pharmacy, and went over the doctor's instructions one final time. Meals, rest, and follow-up appointments. He looked at me over his glasses before I left.

"She's a strong girl," he said. "Two months and she'll be completely fine."

I nodded and held onto that.

Kristy arrived before we had finished packing, same three luxury cars, same controlled composure. She walked straight to Ivy's ward without a word to me. I composed myself quickly and followed.

"We're almost ready," I said.

She didn't respond. She turned and walked back out.

We gathered the last of our things and went after her.

Ivy was wide awake in the car, twisting in her seat, pressing her face towards the window.

"Mummy, where are we going?" she asked every twenty minutes, with the patience of someone who had never once been told to be patient.

"You'll see," I kept saying.

Four hours later, we arrived.

Ivy had fallen asleep somewhere around the third hour. She stirred as the car slowed, rubbing her eyes and pressing back at the window.

I looked up.

And stopped breathing for a second.

It wasn't a house. It was a compound, a sprawling, towering structure that rose against the sky like something from a film. Massive iron gates, manicured hedges, and fountains are visible even from the entrance. The car rolled in slowly, and the scale of it only grew.

Is that a mansion? In this day and age?

Ivy was fully awake now, nose against the glass.

Three staff members in matching uniforms appeared the moment we stepped out, moving swiftly and quietly to take our bags. They greeted Kristy with the kind of deference that made it clear she held authority here. Then they turned to us.

Inside was worse, better. I wasn't sure which word fit. Marble floors, high ceilings, and chandeliers catching light from every angle. Gold detailing on the walls. Everything is immaculate and deliberate and completely still.

Ivy reached up and slipped her hand into mine.

"Mum," she whispered. "Is this our new home?"

I pulled her slightly closer. "We'll be staying here for a while."

"Who lives here?"

I paused. "You'll meet them soon."

She looked up at me with those eyes that always seemed to catch whatever I was trying to hide. I smiled before she could ask anything else.

Kristy instructed the staff to show us to our rooms.

Mine was at the end of a long hallway, large, quiet, smelling faintly of cedar and clean linen. I set my bag down and stood in the middle of it for a moment.

Everything was too perfect. Too silent. The kind of silence that didn't feel like peace, it felt like a held breath.

I stepped back into the hallway to check on Ivy.

And stopped.

At the far end of the corridor, a tall figure stood with his back to me. Broad shoulders, unhurried posture, the kind of stillness that didn't come from having nothing to do but from having no reason to rush.

Then he turned.