Chapter 57 Ivy

Chapter 57 Ivy
This has to be hell. It must be. I must have died again and be in hell!

I glare at the toast like it personally insulted me.

It sits on the plate—dry, pale, aggressively wholesome—radiating the smug confidence of food that knows it will never bring joy.

“This,” I say, poking it with one finger as if testing whether it might fight back, “is not breakfast. This is what people eat when they’ve committed crimes and are being punished for them.”

Next to me, William doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. He calmly sips his tea, posture straight, expression infuriatingly serene. “It’s exactly what Zeus recommended.”

I shoot a glare at Zeus. He gives me a small apologetic smile. Bastard!

I swivel toward Edward so fast my chair legs scrape against the floor. “You,” I accuse, pointing my fork at him like a weapon, “are supposed to stop things like this.”

Edward lifts both hands in surrender, palms up, his mouth already twitching with amusement. “I tried,” he says quickly. “I told him you’d riot if there was no bacon.”

William finally looks at me then, completely unapologetic. “Your health comes first.”

“My happiness should have at least ranked second,” I reply flatly.

Father clears his throat from the head of the table, and I don’t miss the glint of entertainment in his eyes. He’s enjoying this far too much. “You were poisoned, Ivy. Light food is sensible.”

“Sensible is overrated,” I mutter, slumping back in my chair. “Bacon has emotional benefits.”

Edward lets out a short laugh. “See? She’s already recovering.”

William shoots him a warning look sharp enough to cut glass. “You’re not helping.”

I lean back further and fold my arms, glaring now at the fruit bowls arranged in neat little clusters—berries polished, melon sliced with surgical precision. Traitors, the lot of them. “Just so everyone is aware,” I say sweetly, “I am eating this under extreme protest.”

William sighs, but when he looks at me, the edge in his expression softens. His voice lowers, quieter, meant just for me. “Eat it today,” he says. “When Zeus clears you, I’ll personally make sure you get a proper breakfast.”

I narrow my eyes. “Beans included?”

“Yes.”

“And sausage?”

“Yes.”

I study his face for a long moment, searching for loopholes, then finally reach for a strawberry. It’s cold and bright red against my fingers. 

“Fine,” I say. “But I expect this betrayal to be remembered.”

Edward chuckles into his cup. “She’s forgiving.”

“I am not,” I reply, biting into the fruit. Juice bursts across my tongue, sweet and sharp. “I am strategic.”

William just shakes his head, but I catch the faint smile he tries—and fails—to hide.

Even if my breakfast is tragic, at least I’m surrounded by people who care enough to argue over it.

Still… I’d better get my bacon soon.

I’m just resigning myself to a life without bacon when I feel it—that familiar presence to my left.

Luca leans back in his chair, arms crossed, watching me with that soft, knowing smile he gets when he thinks something is amusing. Or me.

“You look devastated,” he says lightly. “Tragic, really.”

I shoot him a glare. “Don’t mock my suffering.”

He chuckles. “I warned William you’d hate this.”

I blink. Slowly. Then I turn my head toward William.

“He knew?” I ask, scandalized.

William’s jaw tightens just a fraction. “Edward warned me. Luca offering commentary was not helpful.”

“Oh, I was very helpful,” Luca says smoothly. “I suggested adding bacon and just hiding it from Zeus.”

My eyes light up. “See? Luca understands me.”

There it is—the shift. The air tightens, subtle but unmistakable. William’s hand stills on the table, his gaze flicking to Luca before returning to me.

“That’s not understanding,” William says coolly. “That’s encouraging bad behavior.”

I tilt my head, studying him. “I didn’t know wanting breakfast counted as bad behavior.”

Luca laughs under his breath. “Careful, Ivy. You’re challenging his authority.”

William finally looks at him fully now, eyes sharp. “I don’t recall asking for your input.”

Luca meets his gaze easily, unfazed. “You didn’t have to. I’ve known Ivy long enough to predict the outcome.”

Something warm and strange settles in my chest at that. “He’s not wrong,” I add helpfully. “You should listen to him more.”

William’s attention snaps back to me. “You’re siding with him now?”

I shrug, reaching for another strawberry. “I’m siding with whoever gets me fed properly.”

Luca’s smile widens just a little too much. “I can always sneak you something later.”

William’s chair shifts as he leans forward, voice low and firm. “That won’t be necessary.”

I glance between them, suddenly very aware of the tension threading the space. Oh.

Oh.

I hide my smile behind my cup. “Relax,” I say innocently. “No one’s stealing me.”

William’s eyes soften when they land on me again, but the edge doesn’t leave his posture. “Good.”

Luca studies him for a moment longer, then leans back, hands up in mock surrender. “Easy. I’m just looking out for her.”

“I have people for that,” William replies.

I sip my drink, pretending not to notice the quiet standoff unfolding over my head.

Honestly… it’s a little ridiculous.
And a little flattering.

Oh—I almost forgot.

I still need to convince Papa that I have to go into town to pick up new herbs. And, unfortunately, that also means convincing William. I let out a quiet sigh at the thought. This is not going to be fun.

Think, Ivy. Think.

With everything that’s happened—the poisoning, the constant hovering, the watchful eyes—I know no one wants me leaving the house for days. I’m practically wrapped in invisible chains made of concern and authority. Sneaking out is not an option. Negotiation, however… that I can do.

My original plan was simple: pull Papa aside and suggest Luca come with me. Safe. Sensible. What’s that phrase? Two birds, one stone. I’d get access to the herbs and some much-needed time alone with Luca. Time where he wouldn’t be guarded, wouldn’t be watching his words the way he does when the entire family is breathing down his neck.

I need to know what last night meant.
What he meant.

Unfortunately, everyone is still here. And—cue the internal gag noise—even Rose. Of course she is. She lives for moments like this, gets a strange thrill out of contradicting me just for sport. I already know she won’t help. If anything, she’ll make things harder just to see my reaction.

I glance around the room again—the heavy oak table, the murmured conversations, William’s ever-present, watchful calm—and then it hits me.

Oh.
So that’s how I do this.

If logic won’t work…
If reason won’t work…

Then it’s time to learn how to flatter William.

I straighten slightly in my chair, schooling my expression into something sweet and harmless. If he thinks I’m planning something, I’ve already lost.

Time to play the game.