Ivy's fingers trembled slightly as she scrolled through her phone, her long, manicured nails clicking rapidly against the screen. Her lips parted in disbelief, and her eyes widened as she stopped at a headline that caught her attention:
"TRAGIC UPDATE: ELIANA HOWELLS CONFIRMED DEAD AFTER LENGTHY COMA"
The accompanying picture showed Eliana, smiling brightly in a corporate gala photo, beneath the bold words announcing her "death." Ivy's eyes scanned the first few lines. It was vague—intentionally vague. No details. No timestamp. No hospital confirmation.
But it didn't matter. She was being pronounced dead and no one was refuting it.
A slow, triumphant smirk crept across her face. "Finally," she whispered.
Should she call to confirm?
Was Eliana really dead and out of the picture, forever?
Now, no one was going to ever find out what she did with Eliana. Should she also find a way to get rid of the guy that had ran Eliana over?
