56 Chapter 58
Chapter 58 – Accusations, Farewells, and a Jealous Ex’s Final Question
“I’m not divorcing you, Hazel,” Julian repeated, his voice growing more insistent.
I stood my ground, crossing my arms across my chest. “That’s not your decision to make. The papers are already filed.”
“Papers can be withdrawn,” he countered, stepping closer. His cologne–once so familiar to me–now made my stomach turn. “We had six years together. Six years of history. Are you really going to throw that away?”
“You threw it away,” I replied coldly. “The moment you chose Ivy over me.”
Julian’s face darkened. “Is this about Sterling? I’ve seen how he looks at you. How quickly you moved on.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The audacity of this man to accuse me of moving on too quickly when he had literally married my stepsister on what was supposed to be our wedding day.
“Damien has nothing to do with this,” I said firmly, though the mention of his name sent a flutter through my chest that I quickly suppressed. “This is about you and me. And there is no you and me anymore.”
“Don’t lie to me!” Julian’s voice rose, his composure cracking. “I’ve heard the rumors. The Sterling family birthday party, the way he parades you around like a trophy. You barely waited until I was gone.”
“Gone?” I laughed bitterly. “You weren’t gone, Julian. You were married to my stepsister. In the wedding venue I booked. Wearing the suit I designed for you.”
Before Julian could respond, the door burst open. Eleanor, Ivy’s mother and my former stepmother, stood there, her face contorted with grief and rage. Her eyes were swollen from crying, her normally perfect hair disheveled.
“You!” she shrieked, lunging toward me. “How dare you show your face here? My daughter is dead because of you!”
I stepped back, startled by her vehemence. Julian moved between us.
13:01
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“Eleanor, calm down,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. This isn’t Hazel’s
fault
“Of course it is!” Eleanor’s voice shook with fury. “Ivy was getting better until she found out about Hazel’s new wealthy boyfriend! The stress made her condition worse! She died thinking her husband was going back to her sister!”
I felt my blood run cold. The accusation was so absurd, so detached from reality that I couldn’t even find words to defend myself.
“Eleanor,” I finally managed to say, keeping my voice steady despite the trembling in my hands. “I’m sorry for your loss. Truly. But Ivy’s cancer was terminal from the beginning. The doctors told us that months ago.”
“Shut up!” Eleanor tried to push past Julian to get to me. “You never loved her! You were always Jealous of her! And now she’s gone, and you’re already moving on with some rich man!”
Julian’s grip on Eleanor’s shoulders tightened. “Eleanor, you need to calm down. Let me take you home.
I took another step back, suddenly aware that Ivy’s body must be somewhere nearby, perhaps in the morgue downstairs. Despite everything she’d done to me, despite the years of torment and the final betrayal, she had still been my stepsister. We had shared a home, meals, fragments of childhood.
“I’ll go,” I said quietly. “I shouldn’t have come.”
But before I could leave, Eleanor broke free from Julian’s grasp and lunged toward me, her hand raised. I didn’t flinch, didn’t move. I simply stood there as her palm connected with my cheek, the sharp sound echoing in the small hospital room.
The sting spread across my skin, but I didn’t react. Instead, I looked into her tear–filled eyes and saw nothing but grief–a mother’s unprocessed, misdirected pain.
“I understand,” I said softly. “You need someone to blame.”
Her face crumpled, the rage giving way to raw anguish. Julian pulled her back as she began to sob uncontrollably.
I noticed then that there was another bed in the room, covered with a white sheet. I walked over to it, aware of both Julian and Eleanor watching me. Gently, I adjusted the
CT 50 Chapter he
sheet that had been disturbed during Eleanor’s outburst, smoothing it over what I
knew was Ivy’s face.
It was a strange, silent farewell to the stepsister who had tormented me, competed with me, and ultimately betrayed me. Yet in this moment, I felt only the weight of a life cut short, and the complicated legacy left behind.
“Goodbye, Ivy.” I whispered, so softly that I wasn’t sure anyone else heard.
Without another word, I walked out of the room, out of the hospital, and back into the bright afternoon sunlight. As I stood on the sidewalk, taking deep breaths of fresh air. I felt as though I’d closed a chapter of my life–one filled with pain and betrayal, but also with lessons I needed to leam.
Three days later, I was back at my workshop, focusing on my designs with renewed energy. The orders were pouring in after the Sterling party, and I was determined to prove that my success was about my talent, not my connections.
I was carefully pinning a pattern for a men’s suit when Chloe poked her head in the
door.
“Knock, knock,” she called cheerfully. “Are you too busy for visitors?”
I smiled, setting down my pins. “Never too busy for you. Come in.”
She bounded into the room with her usual energy, peering at the fabric stretched across my worktable. “Ooh, is that for my brother?”
1
“How did you know?” I asked, genuinely surprised.
Chloe grinned. “That shade of blue is his favorite. And you’ve been measuring the shoulders exactly to his proportions.” She winked. “I’ve seen enough of his custom suits to recognize the pattern.”
I felt my cheeks warm. “It’s just a thank–you gift. For all his help with my business.”
“Mmhmm,” Chloe hummed skeptically. “A custom–designed Hazel Ashworth original. Very professional.”
“Stop it,” I laughed, throwing a scrap of fabric at her. “It’s not like that.”
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Chloe perched on the edge of my desk, her expression growing more serious. “I heard about Ivy. Are you okay?”
I sighed, returning to my pinning. “It’s complicated. I didn’t wish her dead, despite everything. But I’m not exactly devastated either.”
“That’s understandable,” Chloe said gently. “Has her husband bothered you since?”
I noticed how she purposely avoided using Julian’s name, referring to him by his relationship to Ivy rather than to me. It was a small gesture of solidarity that I appreciated.
“He wants me back,” I admitted. “Now that Ivy’s gone, he seems to think we can just pick up where we left off.”
Chloe’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding! The audacity of that man!”
“Tell me about it.” I carefully marked a seam with chalk. “He’s threatening to contest
the divorce.”
Chloe frowned. “Don’t worry about that. If you need legal help-”
“I can handle Julian,” I interrupted, not wanting to rely on the Sterling family’s influence. “But thank you.”
She studied me for a moment. “You know, my brother would move mountains for you if you asked.”
I kept my eyes on my work, not trusting myself to meet her gaze. “That’s exactly why I won’t ask. I need to fight my own battles.”
“Being strong doesn’t mean being alone, Hazel,” Chloe said softly.
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed with a text. I glanced at it and froze.
*lvy’s memorial service is tomorrow at 2 PM. I need you there. -Julian*
Chloe, reading my expression, leaned forward. “What is it?”
“Memorial service tomorrow,” I said, putting the phone down. “Julian ‘needs me there.”
“You’re not going, are you?” Chloe asked incredulously.
I shook my head. “No. That chapter is closed.”
Chloe squeezed my hand. “Good. Now, tell me more about this suit you’re making for my brother
We spent the next hour chatting companionably as I worked, Chloe’s presence a welcome distraction from thoughts of Julian and Ivy. By the time she left, promising to meet for lunch later in the week, I felt lighter, more focused
I worked late into the evening, losing myself in the precision of my craft. The blue fabric for Damien’s sust was exquisite–a shade that would bring out his eyes perfectly. I imagined him wearing it, the way the tailored lines would accentuate his broad shoulders, the subtle strength of his frame
“Focus, Hazel” I muttered to myself seating my thoughts had wandered again.
Just as I was about to pack up for the night, I heard a knock at the studio door. Thinking it might be the security guard making his rounds, I called, “Come in!”
The door swung open, and hallan stod there, looking disheveled. His hair was mussed, his eyes bloodshot. The smell of alcohol chẳng to hon,
“Julian,” I said flatly “What are you doing there
“I tested you be replent, his worths slightly shurned. “About the memorial
“I saw it” backfietgent Weeping my distance. “But I have nothing to say.”
He stepped into the stuction his gate roaming around before landing back on me. “You Jook beautiful. Working late suts paz”
I crossed my arms “Tas Basy, Jutias, Proase leave.”
“The service is all two be continuand as if i hadn’t spoken. “A St. Matthew’s Your father will be there. Eleanor Everyone.”
‘I won’t be.” I said firmy. The already said my goodbye to try”
Almac’s eyes arrowed. “So cold is this who you are now? So beartless?
“Heartless?” echoed incrociously. “You’re calling me heartless? After everything you
be swayed sightly booking wound my studio again. His eyes fell on the blue fabric stretched across
Brushed pattern for a man’s suit just panner
workable, the
to it.
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“Men’s wear?” he asked, his tone suddenly sharp with suspicion. His gaze met mine, jealousy flaring in his eyes. “Who are you making it for?”
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