Chapter 10

• "Isn't this too much?" Ivy asked, staring at the gown still clinging to her body. A navy dress, adorned with sequins and a satin bow cinched at the waist. It wasn’t just the design—she’d caught a glimpse of the price tag earlier, and honestly... she had never imagined herself wearing something this expensive.
• "What's too much about it?" Josh scoffed in annoyance. "Bring another one. I don’t like this cut."
• "Yes, sir," the boutique assistant responded promptly, hurrying off to find a more suitable dress per Josh’s instructions.
• “You said this was just a dinner,” Ivy muttered, utterly baffled by his behavior. “Why go overboard like this?”
• This was already the fourth gown she’d tried on. But Josh kept sending the assistant back, asking for different styles—each time insisting, “I need to see how it looks on you. Why would I buy something that doesn’t suit you?”
• Completely exhausting, Ivy thought, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
• Josh lounged on the plush velvet sofa, legs crossed, one arm resting lazily while the other traced his jaw. “This isn’t just any dinner,” he said, his gaze slowly drifting up and down Ivy’s figure. The navy gown looked fine—flattering, even—but to him, it lacked something. It wasn’t... her.
• “You haven’t forgotten what I said about making your ex-husband regret everything, have you?” His eyes locked onto hers, sharp and unreadable. “Just trust me on this, Ivy. I promise you won’t lose anything by listening to me.”
• Ivy scowled, lips pressed tight. It wasn’t about winning or losing—but Josh never left room for that kind of argument.
• “What about this one, Mr. Josh?” the assistant returned, presenting a gown in deep maroon—bold, dramatic, impossible to ignore. Josh nodded, visibly more interested. This might be the one, he thought. The version of Ivy no one had ever seen before.
• “Josh, come on...” Ivy groaned softly. “I don’t even know how to walk in a dress like that—”
• “This is the last one,” Josh cut in with a grin. “You do want to shut your ex up, don’t you?”
• Ivy was speechless.
• “Then keep your word, Ivy,” Josh said smoothly, motioning for the assistant to help her change. “Last one. I swear.”
• Josh and his 'last one, I swear'... The biggest lie in existence. But at this point, what could Ivy do other than go along with him?
• A few moments later, the curtain swayed open, and Ivy stepped out slowly, the soft rustle of satin brushing against the floor as she walked. The maroon gown fit her like it was made for her—elegant, sensual, and utterly breathtaking. The fabric hugged her curves without clinging too tightly, cascading into a perfect drape that gathered slightly at the hips and thigh, forming a striking silhouette that drew the eye.
• A daring slit rose high along her leg, sensual yet tasteful. But what truly stole the spotlight was the back—completely exposed, save for a cascade of blood-red pearls strung like a delicate curtain from shoulder to spine. They shimmered with her every step, not just an accessory but part of the allure itself.
• “Josh... what do you think?” Ivy asked, voice uncertain, her posture a little stiff. The gown was... too much.
• He had been casually scrolling through his phone, waiting for her to emerge—but the second he looked up, everything was still.
• Josh froze.
• His blue eyes locked on her, and for a moment, the world itself seemed to pause. The boutique, the lights, the assistant—none of it existed. All he could see was Ivy. The maroon dress molded her in a way that left no room for hesitation. Not in the cut, not in the fit, not in the undeniable way it brought her to life.
• "I... maybe this dress is a bit too much," Ivy murmured, glancing at her reflection. "If you think—"
• "Stop right there," Josh cut her off, firm and unyielding. His eyes never left her. “Bring a necklace that matches,” he told the boutique staff. “And a pair of heels—narrow stiletto, pitch black, something that balances the dress.”
• Ivy parted her lips, ready to argue, but the look Josh gave her left no room for resistance.
• Moments later, an assistant returned carrying a velvet box containing a delicate ruby pendant and a pair of glossy black heels.
• Josh reached for the necklace himself. “Sit,” he said gently, but it held the weight of a command.
• “I—I can put it on myself.”
• “Of course you can. But this time, let me.”
• With careful steps, Josh moved behind her as she sat on a small stool in front of the vanity mirror. His fingers brushed her hair aside, letting it fall over one shoulder, then he fastened the necklace around her neck. The deep red ruby landed perfectly at the center of her collarbone, gleaming as if it had always belonged there.
• But Josh didn’t stop there. He knelt, lifting one of the heels and sliding it onto her foot with deliberate care, then repeated it with the other.
• When he stood again, a smile of pure satisfaction tugged at his lips. “Perfect.”
• Ivy was at a loss for words. All she could do was stare at him in the mirror, watching the way his expression glowed with pride—over the gown, the look, her.
• “Now look at yourself, Ivy,” Josh said, offering his hand to help her stand. She hesitated for only a moment before accepting it.
• And when she rose to her feet, standing before the boutique’s full-length mirror, her breath caught in her throat.
• “It doesn’t even feel like... me,” she whispered.
• “You’re right.” Josh’s voice was low as he stepped beside her, his gaze tracing her reflection from head to toe. “You look... different.”
• “Is that a bad thing?”
• He shook his head without hesitation. “Not at all. Have a little faith in yourself. You could make your ex-husband regret his entire existence.”
• “Are you sure?” Ivy asked again, unable to tear her eyes from her transformed self.
• Josh nodded. “Trust me,” he said, his hands resting gently on her shoulders, anchoring her. “And trust the woman in the mirror. I think she’s strong enough to make a man regret ever walking away from her.”
• A soft laugh slipped past Ivy’s lips. “Alright, alright.” She inhaled deeply, straightening her back a little. “Let’s hope my confidence can live up to yours.”
• ***
• Despite the constant back-and-forth during their supermarket run—mostly thanks to Josh tossing items into the cart on a whim—Ivy tried to keep her patience intact. He claimed it was so the kitchen would be fully stocked with everything she might need. Which sounded considerate... except they only shared meals in the evenings. So why did it feel like they were shopping for a family of five?
• “You could make me breakfast,” Josh said, picking an apple from the display. “Can you bake an apple pie? I don’t know why, but I’m really craving one.”
• Ivy sighed long and deep. First it was lemon pudding, then vegetable salad, strawberry smoothies, sponge cake, and now? Apple pie? What was his stomach made of—steel or magic?
• And honestly, their cart was already overflowing.
• “Josh, maybe we can save the apple pie for next week. Didn’t you say you wanted lemon pudding?”
• Josh pouted like a disappointed kid. “You don’t know how to make it?”
• “It’s not that I don’t,” Ivy said, rubbing her forehead, already overwhelmed. “Are you sure we need to buy this much? I see a lot of stuff we really don’t need.”
• “It’s fine,” he replied breezily.
• “No, it’s not. We need to sort through this. You realize we can do another round of grocery shopping next week for fresh produce. We don’t need to buy out the entire store, Josh!”
• Josh looked genuinely confused. “What’s the problem? The fridge in the apartment can hold all this.” He paused, thinking. “Or is it not big enough? Should I have someone check and get us a new—”
• “No!” Ivy nearly shouted. Oh, God. Where was this conversation even heading? Was he seriously considering replacing a perfectly good refrigerator just to fit today’s groceries?
• “It’s way too easy for you to spend money,” Ivy muttered under her breath, sharp sarcasm lacing her tone. “Just be honest—who are you, Josh?”
• Her eyes narrowed at him with suspicion. Josh only grinned back with maddening amusement.
• “You’re still not going to tell me wh—”
• His phone rang, cutting her off.
• “Ah, got a call, Ivy,” he said lightly, like it was the most casual thing in the world. “You can go ahead and pay for everything. You’ve still got my card, right?” He gave her shoulder a playful nudge. “I’ll be back soon.”
• And just like that, he was gone—vanishing through the aisles as if the mountain of groceries he insisted on buying wasn’t his problem anymore.
• Ivy exhaled in frustration. Seriously? He stuffed the cart like a spoiled rich kid in a candy store, and now she was left to sort through the damage.
• “Fine,” she muttered, starting to scan through the items. “Might as well trim this mess down before checkout.”
• But just as she reached for a bag of flour, a voice sliced through the air—mocking, smug, and far too familiar.
• “Well, well, look who we have here.”
• Ivy turned, instantly regretting it. Standing across from her was her—the woman her ex-husband had introduced as Ivy’s replacement.
• Clara Jung.
• She wasn’t alone. Clara had two other women with her, both shooting Ivy the kind of judgmental look you’d reserve for something sticky you stepped on by accident. As if Ivy were some contagious parasites. But seriously—she wasn’t the one walking over to them, so why the venom?
• Ugh. Irritating.
• “What’s your job now, Ivy? Grocery delivery girl?” Clara sneered. “Wow, I honestly didn’t think you’d be working this hard.”
• “Who is she, Clara?” one of her friends asked, clearly relishing the drama.
• “Rico’s ex-wife,” Clara answered coolly. “No wonder he divorced her. She was never in his league.”
• “You mean Rico Dallas?” the other one chimed in, wide-eyed. “The newly appointed Marketing Manager at MaC?”
• Clara nodded proudly. “That’s him.”
• “You’re definitely the better match, Clara,” her friend added with an approving grin. “This one clearly doesn’t measure up.”
• Ivy had heard enough. Every word that spilled from their mouths was pure, unnecessary poison. She no longer cared about sorting the groceries. Screw it—she’d just pay for everything and get out of here. Anything to escape this pack of petty hyenas.
• “Hey! I wasn’t done talking,” Clara said with a laugh that was all teeth and spite. “What’s the rush? Afraid I’ll find out your little side hustle is hauling groceries for strangers?”
• Laughter erupted again from Clara’s entourage.
• “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t tell Rico,” Clara added mockingly. “You haven’t changed your number, have you? I’ll call you next time I don’t feel like dragging heavy bags. It’s exhausting, you know.”
• God. Ivy’s patience frayed like a snapped wire. Why did she have to run into her of all people?
• “Don’t forget, Ivy,” Clara cooed, “if it weren’t for Rico, you’d probably be living on the street by now.”
• That did it.
• Ivy exhaled slowly, shoved the trolley out of the way, and walked straight toward Clara with calm, precise steps. She didn’t care that they were in a public place. Or that her next move might land her in a holding cell. Her pride needed this.
• With a swift motion, she slapped Clara. Hard.
• The sound cracked through the aisle like a whip. Clara staggered backward, barely catching herself with the help of one of her stunned friends. Blood bloomed at the corner of her mouth from the force of it.
• “Don’t you ever mistake me for someone weak, you are cheap, pathetic woman!”
• “Bitch!”
• What followed could only be described as chaos—two grown women locked in a scuffle at the center of a supermarket aisle. Hair was grabbed, nails scratched, and words you’d never repeat to your mother were hurled like grenades.
• Clara’s two friends stood frozen, shrieking but too scared to intervene.
• “Hey! What the hell is going on here?”
• “Oh my God!”