Ivy's world stopped spinning. The word "adopted" echoed in her mind like a death sentence.

"Adopted?" Her voice was barely a whisper, like a child who had just been told Santa wasn't real. "Did you... did you just call me adopted? I... I don't..."

"Yes, you little fool," Linda spat, her face twisted with years of hidden hatred. She looked at Maren's scratched face and her voice became venomous. "How dare you touch my daughter? The only real bloodline of the Dawson family."

Ivy felt like the ground beneath her feet had cracked open. Her beautiful hazel eyes filled with confusion and terror. "What do you mean adopted? Aunt Linda, what are you saying?"

Linda's smile was cruel as she stretched her hand toward her husband. "Richard, give me the papers."

Uncle Richard hesitated for a moment, his face showing a flicker of guilt, before handing over a manila envelope. Linda ripped it open and threw the documents at Ivy's feet like she was throwing scraps to a dog.

"See for yourself, princess."

Ivy's hands shook so violently she could barely pick up the papers. The words blurred through her tears, but one line stood out like a knife to her heart: DNA compatibility: 0%.

"This... this is fake," she stammered, her voice breaking like glass. "This can't be real. My parents... they would have told me. They loved me!"

"Your parents?" Maren laughed coldly. "You mean the people who felt sorry for a dirty little orphan?"

The papers fell from Ivy's numb fingers as she stared at the three people she had called family her entire life. She looked like a beautiful broken doll, her perfect features crumbling with devastation.

"This is not true," she whispered, then louder, "This is NOT TRUE!"

She collapsed to her knees on the cold stone, her dress pooling around her like black water. "You made this up. Please tell me you made this up."

Like a lost child, she crawled across the rough stones to her aunt's feet, not caring that the sharp edges cut her knees through her torn stockings.

"Please, Aunt Linda. You're like a mother to me. You held me when I had nightmares. You braided my hair. Please tell me this is all a terrible prank." Her voice was breaking with every word. "Please tell me this is a nightmare and when I wake up, my parents will be alive and everything will be okay."

Linda's face showed no mercy as she kicked Ivy away from her feet like she was kicking a stray dog.

"Don't you dare touch me with those filthy, lying hands!"

Ivy hit the ground hard, her hip crashing against the stone steps. Pain shot through her body, but it was nothing compared to the agony in her heart.

"I've already transferred power of attorney for all of your so-called parents' property to my name," Linda said with satisfaction. "Every single penny, every building, every car. Thank God we're finally getting rid of you. At least I'm letting you keep one suitcase ang your car. I could have thrown you out with nothing."

"No, please!" Ivy sobbed, crawling back across the stones. Her knees were bleeding now, leaving small red stains on the pathway. "Please, you can't throw me out like this! I have nowhere to go! My parents are dead! You're all I have left!"

She grabbed Linda's legs again, her tears mixing with the blood from her scraped hands. "Is this because I hit Maren? I'm sorry! I was just confused and scared! Please don't punish me like this!"

She turned to Maren, her beautiful face streaked with tears and dirt. She pressed her palms together like she was praying to a god who had abandoned her.

"Maren, please. We grew up together. We shared secrets, we shared dreams. Don't let them throw me out. Just let me stay in the servants' quarters. I'll do anything."

Her voice cracked completely. "I... I can't do this today. My parents were buried six hours ago. Six hours, Maren! My world ended today. Can't you have mercy? Can't you be the light in this darkness? Please, I'm begging you."

Maren looked down at her cousin with pure disgust and pushed her hands away like she was touching something dirty.

"At least you get to keep your precious car and phone. That's more than you deserve. So pick up your pathetic little suitcase and get the hell out of my sight."

She leaned down, her voice becoming a whisper filled with venom. "I packed some of your old rags. I was being generous. The rest of your designer clothes? They're mine now. And if I ever see you near this mansion again, I'll make sure you disappear permanently. Go back to whatever gutter they found you in, Ivy. The princess act is over."

The words hit Ivy like physical blows. She watched through blurred vision as her family - the only family she had ever known turned their backs on her and walked into the house that had been her home for twenty-one years.

The maids lingered for a moment, their faces showing pity and shame. But Linda's voice cut through the night air like a whip.

"I dare any of you to help her! Anyone who shows her kindness will be fired immediately!"

The maids quickly looked away and scurried into the house. The massive front door slammed shut, and Ivy heard the locks clicking into place.

She sat on the cold stone for what felt like hours, crying until her throat was raw and her eyes were swollen shut. Her beautiful black hair was tangled and dirty, her dress was torn at the knees, and her hands were still bleeding from when she fell earlier.

When she finally stood up, her legs were shaking so badly she could barely walk. She picked up her single suitcase, everything she owned in the world now fit in one small bag , and walked to her car.

The black luxury sedan was the only thing that was truly hers. She had bought it with money from her modeling jobs, never knowing that one day it would be her only possession.

She didn't care about the money or the properties. She would have given it all away gladly if she could just have her parents back. But being thrown out of the house where she had laughed and cried and dreamed, where every room held memories of the people who raised her, on the very day she buried them, that cruelty was beyond forgiveness.

She started the car with trembling hands and drove away from the iron gates that had always meant safety and home. Now they looked like prison bars, keeping her out of the only life she had ever known.

She drove through the empty streets with no destination, no plan, no hope. Just twenty-one years old and completely alone in the world.

Thirty minutes later, her car began to sputter and jerk. The engine made a horrible grinding noise before it died completely on a dark, deserted stretch of road.

"No, please, not now," she whispered, hitting the steering wheel with her fist. "Please, I can't handle anything else today."

She got out of the car and lifted the hood, though she had no idea what to look for. The engine was smoking and making strange clicking sounds.

That's when she heard the footsteps.

Slow, deliberate footsteps were coming from the shadows behind her.

She turned around, and her blood turned to ice.

Three tall figures emerged from the darkness, all wearing black masks that covered their faces completely. Only their eyes were visible, and they were staring at her like predators who had found their prey.

Ivy’s heart raced like a trapped bird, hammering against her ribs. The three men in black masks closed in, their heavy steps crunching on the dark, empty road. Her broken car sat behind her, smoke curling from its open hood, the sharp smell mixing with her fear. her knees burning from earlier cuts, blood trickling down her shins.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Her voice shook, but she forced the words out, gripping her car keys like they could save her.

The tallest man laughed, a mean, rough sound that made her skin crawl. “A pretty girl like you, all alone? We just want some fun.” His voice was muffled by the mask, but the threat was clear. He grabbed her wrist, his fingers tight like a trap.

Ivy screamed and twisted, pulling hard. Her fancy dress, already ripped at the knees, tore more as another man grabbed her shoulder, yanking the fabric. The soft silk split, showing her collarbone and the edge of her bra. She kicked out, her heel hitting the first man’s groin. He groaned and bent over, swearing loudly.

“You little!” the second man growled, grabbing her hair. Ivy bit his arm hard, tasting sweat and dirt through his jacket. He yelled and let go, and she stumbled back. Her phone slipped from her shaky hands, smashing on the ground, the screen breaking into pieces.

She didn’t wait. She ran.

Her lungs hurt as she sprinted down the dark road, the men’s shouts chasing her. Her torn stockings ripped more, her bleeding knees stinging with every step. Their boots pounded behind her, closer, like dogs after a scared rabbit. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, tears blurring her eyes. She was tired, so tired, but she couldn’t stop.

Headlights flashed ahead, bright and sudden. A black SUV screeched to a stop, tires squealing on the pavement. Ivy didn’t think, she ran toward it, her legs wobbling. The driver’s door opened, and a man stepped out, tall and broad, his face half-hidden in the shadows. She tripped, her strength gone, and fell forward. Strong arms caught her just before she hit the ground, holding her up as her vision faded to black.

Zane Carver stared at the woman in his arms, his heart skipping a beat. Ivy Dawson. Her black hair was messy, tangled with dirt. Her dress was torn, one sleeve barely hanging on, her stockings shredded, blood staining her knees. Her face, even dirty and tear-streaked, was the same one he’d never forgotten. His ex-fiancée. The woman who’d crushed him three years ago, saying, “I can’t marry you,” in front of everyone, her voice cold and final. No reason, just those words that still stung.

“Ivy?” he said softly, almost to himself. “What happened to you?”

He held her close, her body light and fragile against his chest. His men jumped out of the SUV, guns ready, looking into the dark. The three masked men froze at the edge of the headlights, then ran off into the shadows.

“Find them,” Zane ordered, his voice hard. “Alive. I want answers.”

“Yes, sir,” Marcus, his security chief, said, already signaling the others to chase them.

Zane carried Ivy to the SUV, his mind spinning. He’d been driving to her family’s mansion to say he was sorry about her parents and not being able to attend their funeral, and maybe to show her he wasn’t the same man she’d rejected. Three years ago, her words had turned him into someone else, a playboy who didn’t care, who let women chase him but never let them in. Ivy had been different. She’d been his. Until she wasn’t.

“Drive to the lakeside house,” he told his driver. “Fast.”

As the SUV sped through the quiet city, Zane called Kent Harper, his best friend and the only doctor he trusted to keep this quiet. A hospital would mean news headlines, and with Ivy involved, it would be a mess.

“Kent, get to my place. It’s urgent.”

“What now, Zane? Break another heart and need me to stitch it up?” Kent’s voice was sharp with his usual sarcasm, but he sounded worried.

“Not me. Just come. Lakeside house. Now.”

Kent paused. “This better not be one of your stunts, man.”

Zane didn’t answer, his eyes on Ivy. Her breathing was soft, her lips slightly open. He brushed a piece of hair from her face, his fingers staying a moment too long. Why did she still make his heart race? She’d hurt him, left him, and yet here he was, holding her like she mattered.

The SUV pulled into his lakeside mansion, all glass and stone, screaming money. Zane carried Ivy inside, her head against his shoulder. He laid her on his bed, the black silk sheets soft under her torn clothes. He stood there, watching her, his chest tight.

“What happened to you, Ivy?” he whispered.

The doorbell rang, and Kent walked in, medical bag in hand. He stopped short, his smirk gone as he saw Ivy. “What the hell, Zane? You said urgent, not… what, a runaway princess?”

“Knock it off,” Zane said, his voice low. “She was running from three guys in masks. Her car’s dead, her clothes are ripped, and she passed out. That’s it.”

Kent knelt by the bed, checking Ivy’s pulse. “She’s okay, just in shock. Cuts on her knees, some bruises. She needs rest and cleaning up.” He looked at Zane, grinning a little. “So, you’re saving Ivy Dawson now? The girl who kicked your ego to the curb? That’s rich.”

Zane’s jaw tightened. “She’s hurt, Kent. Focus.”

Kent laughed, grabbing antiseptic from his bag. “Oh, come on. You’re telling me you’re not dying to know why Little Miss Perfect is running around like she’s in a bad movie? Last I checked, she was the Dawson family’s golden child, not a street rat.”

Zane didn’t answer. He remembered that night three years ago. The fancy restaurant, the ring in his pocket, the crowd watching. He’d loved her, her quiet smarts, her shy smile, the way her eyes sparkled when she was happy. He thought she loved him too. But when he proposed, her face went blank, and she said those words: “I can’t marry you.” The room had laughed, whispered, stared. He’d become the city’s favorite joke. After that, he’d changed, parties, women, no feelings. But Ivy? She’d stayed in his head.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Kent said, smirking as he cleaned Ivy’s cuts. “The great Zane Carver, brought down by a girl who didn’t even explain herself. Gotta say, I kinda respect her for it. Not many people can make you look like a fool.”

“Shut it,” Zane said, but there was no bite in his voice. He paced, glancing at Ivy. Her dress was torn higher now, showing a bruise on her leg. His fists clenched. Whoever did this would regret it.

Kent chuckled, bandaging her knees. “What’s your plan, hero? Fix her up and win her back? Or just show her how much better you are now? Bigger company, more fame, women lining up. You’re not exactly crying over her anymore.”

Zane stopped, glaring. “You talk too much.”

“Always have,” Kent said, grinning. “But seriously, what’s up? You don’t just pick up your ex off the street for no reason. And your mom still hates her guts, you know that.”

Zane stayed quiet. His mother had called Ivy a disgrace after the rejection, said she’d shamed the family. But Zane knew Ivy wasn’t the spoiled rich girl everyone thought. She was smart, kind, different. Seeing her like this, hurt, alone, made his chest ache in a way he hated.

Kent finished and stood up. “She’ll sleep for a bit. Shock and exhaustion. Keep an eye on her. And maybe don’t stare like she’s your lost puppy. It’s a little sad.”

Zane shot him a look, but before he could say anything, Ivy moved. A soft sound came from her lips, and her eyes opened slightly. They met Zane’s, wide and scared, but recognizing him.

“Zane?” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Her eyes closed again, and she was out, leaving Zane frozen.