Chapter 151: The Mother I Chose

Ivy’s POV

Even before Daniel could block my path again, I was gone.

It felt as though my feet barely touched the stairs. I was nothing but a streak of movement, wind biting at my face, shadows blurring past. The pounding of Daniel’s feet followed closely behind, his voice a low, urgent plea: “Ivy, wait—don’t let your wolf take over—restrain her!”

But his words were static. White noise. Distant. I couldn’t hear anything over the hammering in my chest and the ringing in my ears.

I rounded the corner to the living room—

Rosa.

She was there, frozen mid-scream, a basket of fresh fruits and vegetables spilled at her feet like an offering to chaos. A maid scrambled on her knees, frantically picking apples, squash, and tomatoes off the polished floors.

The moment Rosa saw me, her voice broke into an emotional cry, and she rushed across the room, bypassing the mess entirely.

“¡Ay, Dios mío, mi niña! Gracias a Dios, estás bien!” (Oh my God, my child! Thank God you're okay!) she sobbed, throwing her arms around me in a grip so tight it knocked the wind out of my lungs. “When I heard from the guards—I thought—I thought—¡Ay, mi corazón no puede con esto!” (Oh, my heart can’t take this!)

Her hands flew everywhere—my cheeks, my shoulders, the top of my head. She kissed me a thousand times in a single breath, whispering blessings, her soft Mexican accent laced with panic and prayer.

“¿Quién te hizo esto, eh? Who dared touch you? Mi hija preciosa...” (Who did this to you, huh? Who dared touch you? My precious daughter…)

Her scent—earthy, warm, familiar—wrapped around me like a childhood memory I couldn’t explain. I closed my eyes and buried my face in her shoulder, trembling.

Then, pulling back just enough to cup my face in her calloused hands, she whispered, “And the other girl? The one they said was stabbed? Is she alive?”

Daniel, standing behind me now, answered gently, “She was rushed to the hospital. She’ll live.”

Rosa’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Gracias a Dios... Gracias...” (Thank God… Thank you…)

My eyes didn’t leave her face.

The first day I met Rosa was the first memory I truly had—after the river. After the silence. Her gentle hands. Her quiet humming. The way she always made food like it was a love letter written in spices. She gave me more than shelter—she gave me something I didn’t even know I needed.

A mother’s love.

And it ached. It ached so badly I thought my heart might split. Because I didn’t know I had been missing that until she gave it to me.

The man and woman I’d seen before my father and Uncle Marcus came—the ones who claimed to be my parents—I felt nothing. No flicker of recognition. No emotional connection. Their tears meant little. It was like looking at strangers in a mirror.

But the moment Richard spoke, something inside me settled. His voice was like a distant lullaby that once rocked me to sleep. I didn’t have memories. I didn’t need them. My body remembered him, even when my mind didn’t.

And Nyxara had known too.

He was home.

Still holding me, Rosa whispered, “Come, mi vida. Let’s go to my room. You need warmth. And tea. Always tea.”

She began guiding me gently by the shoulder. The men behind us lowered their voices. They were whispering—but my ears caught it.

A name.

Leo Ashton.

I froze.

I turned sharply, heart lurching.

Before any of them noticed, I reached toward my father’s jacket, pulled out his phone, opened the notes, and furiously typed:

“No. Don’t bring him here. He’s a monster.”

I handed the phone back to him.

His brows knit together. He glanced at Daniel and Marcus, confusion flickering in his eyes before he passed the phone to them.

He turned to me. “Princess, I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding. Leo is—was—your fiancé, before—”

Before he could finish, rage overtook me.

I didn’t mean to throw the couch. I only wanted to nudge it. To make a point.

But the moment my hand touched it, it flew across the room, slamming into the far wall with a violent crash. A flower vase shattered, glass spraying like a glittering rainstorm.

All eyes whipped to the wreckage.

Then slowly turned back to me.

Marcus gulped. “Richard… I think we should listen to her. Let’s leave Ashton out of this. At least till we figure this out.”

Richard nodded, stepping back in near-perfect sync with him.

Daniel, ever the provocateur, scoffed. “Is that all you can do? Honestly, I thought you’d go full Exorcist. Scream. Throw us all into the wall with your brain. I think you should try it. concentrate on your breathing and just imagine...”

“Daniel!” they all hissed in unison, cutting him short.

I glared at him, jaw tight.

He made a wiggly hand gesture near his temple. “But really. I think she should try it. Just a matter of concentrating on her breathing and imagine we all said something really stupid. Which shouldn't be hard, considering I’m in the room.”

“Daniel!” they all hissed in unison again, cutting him short like a Greek chorus of exhausted uncles and fed-up fathers.

“Just shut up!” Uncle Marcus groaned.

Even Rosa, who up until that point had been lovingly patting my head like I was a freshly baked concha, turned sharply with a glare that could curdle milk.

I stood there, silent, robe still half slipping off my shoulder, frozen somewhere between a feral snarl and the desire to chuck the nearest lamp directly at his forehead. My glare didn’t budge.

Nyxara paced inside me, tail high, teeth bared.

Let me out. I’ll turn his sense of humor into a chew toy.

No. I can handle this, I replied, narrowing my eyes.

Instead of screaming—which I physically couldn’t do—I slowly bent down, picked up a slipper Rosa had left by the couch… and hurled it at him.

It smacked Daniel squarely in the chest.

Hard enough to make a thwack sound and cause him to drop the apple he'd smugly stolen from Rosa’s fruit basket.

He blinked, stunned.

Then looked down at the slipper.

“Did she just—” Daniel turned slowly, face deadpan, “—throw an abuelita slipper at me?”

“She did,” Marcus muttered, rubbing his face. “And you probably deserved it. Stop being a jackass.”

Rosa gently pulled on my arm again. “Come, Bella. He’s stupid. You know this. Ignore him.”

I let her lead me away, but I didn’t stop glaring. One day—one day—I was going to sew Daniel’s smug mouth shut.

Permanently.