Chapter 69 Ivy

Chapter 69 Ivy
Mama doesn’t let the silence stretch for long.

She steps fully into the apothecary, the soft lavender of her pastel power suit brushing the doorframe as she closes it behind her with quiet finality. The room instantly feels smaller—full of her presence. Sunlight catches on the sharp tailoring of her jacket, on the delicate sheen of her heels against stone. Her blonde hair is perfectly styled, not a strand out of place as always, but her gray eyes are bright with something that isn’t worry this time.

It’s excitement.

“I didn’t mean to frighten everyone,” she says, smoothing the front of her jacket, though her gaze never once leaves me. “But I realized something dreadful.”

Edward folds his arms, skepticism written plainly across his handsome face. “That your timing is terrible?”

Mama shoots him a look sharp enough to cut glass. “That my daughter nearly died, recovered, began uncovering conspiracies, and somehow her birthday is approaching without a single proper plan.”

My stomach flips.

Not a party. Not a party.

I silently beg whatever forces are listening. I love fun—but Mama’s idea of fun and my idea of fun exist in entirely different universes. “Mama…”

She lifts one manicured hand. “No. I will not hear it.”

Zeus clears his throat politely, already stepping back like a wise man instinctively removing himself from the blast radius of a family moment. Edward, on the other hand, looks like he’s bracing for impact.

“Ivy,” Mama continues, heels clicking decisively as she comes closer, “you have spent your life adapting to everyone else’s needs. To danger. To responsibility. To restraint.”

She reaches out and cups my cheek, her hand warm, familiar, grounding. “For once, you are going to be celebrated.”

Edward groans softly. “Oh no.”

Mama ignores him completely. “Your birthday will not be small. It will not be quiet. And it will absolutely not be postponed.”

I blink. “Mama, what are you—”

“A weekend,” she says brightly. “The entire estate.”

Edward’s gray eyes widen. “The entire estate?”

“Yes,” she replies without hesitation. “Guests carefully selected. Security doubled. No surprises except the good kind.”

Zeus murmurs, amused, “That’s an ambitious distinction.”

Mama smiles at him serenely. “I am very capable.”

She turns back to me, excitement barely contained now. “There will be a garden dinner under lanterns, music—nothing overwhelming, but elegant. Warm. Yours.” Her eyes soften. “And during the day, I want the greenhouse opened officially. As part of the celebration.”

My breath catches. “The greenhouse?”

“William’s gift deserves a proper unveiling,” she says firmly. “And so do you.”

Mama and I might be very different people, but I will always love her fiercely. All I had to say—once—was that I didn’t like my clothes, and she listened. Truly listened. Don’t get me wrong, I will probably be forced into an awful, gaudy dress… but the celebration she’s building in that brilliant head of hers doesn’t sound nearly as terrible as I feared.

Edward rubs a hand over his face. “She’s already planning themes, isn’t she?”

Mama’s smile turns sharp. “Naturally.”

I laugh softly, overwhelmed, my chest tight with something dangerously close to tears. “You’ve thought about all this already.”

“I think about you always,” she says simply.

For a moment, the room is quiet again—but this time it’s warm, buzzing with anticipation instead of fear.

“There’s more,” Mama adds, her tone shifting just enough to make my pulse jump again. “But that part is a surprise.”

Edward straightens instantly. “I don’t like that.”

“You’ll survive,” she tells him.

Her gaze settles back on me, affectionate and resolute. “All you need to do is show up, Ivy. Let yourself be happy.”

She kisses my forehead gently, then turns toward the door, already moving like the plan has begun.

As she leaves, I stand there in the apothecary, heart racing—not with dread this time, but with wonder.

A birthday.
A celebration.
A promise of joy in the middle of everything else.
And somehow… I know this won’t just be a party.
It’s a declaration.
That I’m still here.
That I matter.
And that whatever darkness is circling me—
My family intends to meet it with light.

I glance at Edward as Mama exits, and now his smile matches hers from moments ago. I lift a brow, confused.

“This actually might not be too bad,” he says thoughtfully. “I mean, yes—Mother is going to run everyone but you absolutely ragged—but there is a plus side.”

He starts walking toward me slowly, deliberately. His broad, well‑built frame moves with predator confidence, gray eyes glinting with mischief. Edward with a smirk is a dangerous thing. I’m not scared of much—but him like this? You never quite know what he’s planning.

“Oh really?” I ask, genuinely curious.

His smile brightens. “I get to spoil my chicka, of course!”

All the color drains from my face. Damn it. I should have seen this coming from a mile away.

Edward grasps both my hands, joy lighting his expression like a child on a holiday morning. “What would you like for your birthday, little princess? A car? A villa? Jewels? Don’t worry about the price. You just tell big brother what you want, and I’ll make it happen.”

I can’t help but laugh. He really is a child sometimes. And even though I hate when people spend money on me, the excitement shining in his eyes makes it impossible not to smile.

“All I need is my big brother at my party,” I tell him honestly, smiling wide. “That would make me happy.”

He stares at me like I’ve committed a crime, then shakes his head emphatically. “That won’t do. That is not enough for you! I have a lot of birthdays and holidays to make up for.”

I sigh dramatically. There is no winning with him. And honestly? I’m a little afraid of what William might come up with, considering the greenhouse alone was a just because gift.

“Okay,” I concede. “Get whatever you think I’ll like. Even if it’s small, I know I’ll love it.”

His smile grows even brighter, flashing white teeth. He takes a few steps back, giving me space like he’s already plotting.

“There’s one more thing to look forward to,” he adds, grin slowly turning mischievous.

I frown. “What?”

“I get to see my little chicka in a beautiful princess dress!”

“Edward!”

I swat at him, but he’s already bolting for the door, laughing like a menace. “Son of a—!”

Then I hear Zeus chuckle behind me.

I turn and fix him with an icy glare. He raises both hands in surrender, still smiling.

“Sorry,” he says, amusement lingering in his voice. “But I truly can’t picture you in one of those dresses.”

I don’t drop the glare.

“Damn straight!” I yell.
And somehow—despite everything—I’m smiling.