Chapter 82: Brewing Regret

Ivy’s POV

I couldn't shake off the stories Isabella had told me about her and Leo. The way she spoke about their shared past, the little details she knew—his favorite meals, the way he liked his coffee, the things that made him tick—it all gnawed at me. I knew Leo loved me, but the jealousy inside me was relentless. It curled in my stomach like a slow-burning fire, impossible to ignore.  

I wanted to push her words away, to convince myself that they didn’t matter, but they clung to me like a stain I couldn’t scrub out. It made me feel… small. Inadequate. Like no matter what I did, I would always be second to her.  

A herbal tea? I scoffed to myself, gripping the edge of the counter. I’ll give him more than that.  

“Miss?”  

A startled voice broke through my thoughts. I turned sharply, my expression unreadable, to see one of the maids standing there with a pile of bedspreads in her arms. Her eyes were wide as she looked at me.  

“What?” I asked, irritation lacing my tone.  

She hesitated. “Your eyes… Never mind. Someone called the landline and wanted to speak to you.”  

“Me?” My brow furrowed.  

Who would be calling the house phone instead of my personal number? The thought unsettled me, but I pushed it aside. I walked over to the landline, pressing the button to retrieve the message.  

The moment I heard Carter’s voice on the other end, I rolled my eyes. Of course. He always had a dramatic way of handling things. I had nearly forgotten I asked him to dig into George Albert. But at this point, there was no need. George had vanished—no calls, no attempts to threaten me again. Not even the confrontation I had expected. Had he suddenly chickened out?  

Carter’s voice filled the room.  

“Ivy, I finally have some solid info on George Albert. Turns out, he’s not a threat to you or the company anymore. He left the country about a week ago—no trace, no indication of when or if he’ll be back. Whatever he was planning, it looks like he abandoned it. I’ll keep an eye out, but as far as I can tell, you can stop worrying about him.”  

I exhaled sharply. So that’s that. A part of me was relieved, but another part—one I didn’t want to acknowledge—felt unsettled. Why would he just leave like that? It didn’t sit right with me.  

Shaking off the feeling, I turned back toward the kitchen. Focus, Ivy. Brew the damn tea.

As I walked, I rubbed my neck absentmindedly, and my mind drifted to Daniel. The memory of him pinning me, the weight of his grip—it sent a shiver down my spine. I could have sworn, in that moment, I saw his eyes glow. But that couldn’t be right… could it?  

Could he be a werewolf too?

I let out a small, bitter laugh and shook my head. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s human,” I said to no one in particular.

Pushing the thought away, I reached for the ingredients Isabella had listed out to me. My fingers shook slightly as I measured out the herbs—chamomile, lavender… hazel and honey.

I mixed them carefully, pouring the steaming water over them and letting the tea steep before transferring it into a flask.  

It was almost midnight, and Leo still wasn’t home. I stared at my phone screen, watching the minutes tick by. Just as I was about to call him, I heard the familiar sound of a car pulling into the driveway. My heart leaped in anticipation.  

A smile crept onto my face as I imagined his reaction. He’d be surprised, maybe even touched, that I made the tea myself. Grabbing the flask, I hurried to greet him.  

But something was off.  

The moment I stepped into the doorway, I could feel it—tension thick in the air. Leo stood there, his expression dark, his stance rigid. His brows were furrowed, his jaw tight. He was furious.  

But when his gaze landed on me, his features softened slightly. Without a word, he dismissed his men and strode toward me. A brief embrace was exchanged, but there was an edge to it, something unspoken lingering between us.  

“What’s wrong?” I asked gently, my fingers grazing his arm.  

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “The animal we thought we caught managed to escape.”  

I frowned, not quite understanding. “Animal?”  

He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t push. Instead, I took his hand, guiding him inside. “Come, sit down. I have a surprise for you.”  

A small smile finally touched his lips. “A surprise?”  

I nodded, pouring him a cup of tea. “I made it myself.”  

Leo took the cup from me, bringing it close to his nose. He inhaled deeply, a soft smile forming as he took the first sip. Then another.  

Halfway through, the cup slipped from his fingers and crashed onto the floor.  

My breath caught in my throat as Leo’s face twisted in pain. His hands clutched his chest, his body convulsing.  

“Leo?” My voice trembled. “Leo!”  

I barely had time to react before Isabella rushed forward, shoving me aside.  

“What have you done?!” she screamed, yanking a syringe from her pocket and stabbing it into his arm. She cradled him against her, panic etched across her face.  

I stared at her, stunned. “What are you talking about? I just gave him the tea—”  

“What did you put in it?” she demanded.  

“The herbs you listed—chamomile, hazel—”  

Her face contorted in fury. “You fucking put hazelnut?!” she shrieked. “You want to kill him? If you really cared about him, you’d know he’s allergic to hazelnuts!”  

I staggered back, my breath coming in shallow gasps. “No. No, that’s not possible. I wouldn’t… I didn’t…You…”

“He could have died!” Isabella’s voice rang in my ears as she cut me off, but it sounded distant, muffled.  

Had I imagined her saying hazelnut when she was listing the ingredients?

“What? But… but… you told me…” My words were drowned by her shouts as she called for permission to the West Wing.  

I don’t even remember giving permission, but somehow, she had it. I followed closely as she helped Leo upstairs, my vision blurring. My hands trembled. My heart pounded.  

In the bedroom, I tried to step closer, but Isabella pushed me away. “You’ve done enough already!”

“Leo,” I whispered, my voice small. “I’m so sorry… I—”  

He didn’t look at me.  

“Just go, Ivy,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.  

And in that moment, the jealousy that had once burned so fiercely inside me was replaced with something colder.  

Guilt.