IVY'S POV
I paced my room the entire night, unable to sleep. The silver cup kept flashing behind my eyes.
I tried convincing myself it was only the aftermath of the electric shocks, some frayed nerve in my brain misfiring. But the image felt too sharp, too deliberate.
The only ones who truly hated her were Layla and Marcus, and I knew I wouldn't let them hurt her. Should I tell her? That would terrify her. Or would she think I had finally lost my mind?
By morning I dragged myself out of bed earlier than usual, every muscle still screaming from the shock. I volunteered to clean the entire mansion, moving room to room with rag and bucket, ears straining for any whispered conversation, nose searching for any strange chemical scent. Nothing suspicious surfaced.
When I reached Layla's room she was sprawled on her bed, laptop glowing on her lap. The moment she saw me she hissed. "Look what crawled in. I thought you'd die already."
I ignored her and started dusting, inching closer to her bedside table while discreetly sniffing for anything metallic or bitter. Nothing.
She must have sensed my curiosity because she snapped her phone shut after muttering "I'll be right back" to whoever was on the line.
"Why are you in here?"
I kept working. She stood up and stepped hard on my foot. "Do you realize we can't even go to college anymore because of you?" She shoved her phone screen in my face, zooming in on her neck. "Look at this, Ivy! .
Do you see the scar they gave me? They hate me because of that disgusting video and worse because you weren't stripped."
Before I could react she yanked me up and slammed me against the wall, slapping me hard across the face. The sting bloomed hot across my cheek, but I didn't flinch or fight back. I just took it.
"Why did you have to ruin everything?" she hissed, breath hot and ragged. "Father, Marcus, Anthony and I were perfect until your whore mother showed up pregnant and stole all the attention for both of you."
When she finally released me she stepped back, chest heaving.
"I don't want to see your face for the rest of my miserable life."
She stormed out, slamming the door so violently the walls shook.
A single tear slipped down my cheek.
I sniffed hard and wiped it away. It really was my fault. I had probably destroyed their lives at school. The guilt sat like lead in my stomach, but I forced it down. I still had to find out who was trying to poison Seraphina.
Then I will find a way to leave this house, i needed to search for my mother.
I steadied myself and went through her things thoroughly, drawers, bottles, every corner of the cupboard. Nothing strange. I had already checked Marcus's room earlier with the same result.
But something else caught my eye.
Tucked deep at the back of her bedside drawer, half-hidden beneath notebooks, was a small white prescription bottle. The label was clinical and cold. I pulled it out and read it. My heart dropped straight through the floor.
It was powerful medication for a rare, aggressive blood disorder that struck certain vampire bloodlines.
The kind that caused sudden weakness, internal bleeding, and could kill without constant treatment. The prescription was recent. Layla's name was printed clearly at the top.
"Oh my God…" I whispered.
Layla was sick. Seriously sick.
That explained why she had been terrified and unraveling, lashing out at Seraphina — the woman taking her place while her own body betrayed her.
Before I could put the bottle back, the door flew open.
Layla stood in the doorway, eyes red-rimmed and swollen.
"W-what are those for…" I started.
She crossed the room in two strides and snatched the pills from my hand, quickly drying her eyes with the back of her sleeve.
"It's for a friend," she said nervously, yanking her hair up into a messy bun to hide her shaking hands. "And why the hell are you going through my things, Ivy?"
"I… I wanted to clean the cupboard…"
"Get out. Now!"
She grabbed my arm, yanked me into the hallway, and slammed the door so hard it rattled on its hinges.
"What was that…" I whispered to the empty corridor, heart still racing.
I returned to the kitchen in a daze and prepared the meal with obsessive care, inspecting every plate, every glass, every drink. No silver cup. No dark liquid. Still, my stomach stayed knotted tight.
Later I stood at the top of the staircase and watched Seraphina eat slowly downstairs. She looked calm and beautiful, completely unaware. I knew I needed to warn her somehow.
Because I needed to leave, i refused to let the full moon break me. I wanted out of this life but I couldn't leave knowing someone here was trying to kill her.
That is, if they were really trying to kill her.
Doubt crept in like cold fingers wrapping around my throat. I am sure I had imagined it. Because since when do I see things? Two days unconscious had most definitely messed with my head.
Not only was I not dead, but now I was seeing visions too. I shook my head hard, trying to dislodge the image of the silver cup and the dark liquid, then forced myself to head down the stairs.
Father was already deep in conversation with Seraphina at the dining table, his voice low and commanding as he spoke about some disagreement with the neighboring vampires over the blood bottles he had sold them.
It was the kind of talk that only concerned his eldest son Anthony, matters of territory, deals, and power. It had nothing to do with me. But something did have everything to do with me.
The way Seraphina watched him speak, eyes soft, lips slightly parted, like he was some admirable man worth listening to.
I knew damn well he was a monster. The devil himself. The same man who had tied me to a tree, beaten me until I begged for death, and left me to freeze under the moonlight. Yet here she was, leaning toward him like he was her safe harbor.
I stared at them for a long moment from the shadows of the hallway, unnoticed. At least one good thing had come from all this mess, They were too lost in each other to notice me slipping past.
I returned to my room and sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight. My mind drifted back, circling the same dark thoughts. Layla… was the medicine really for her friend, or had she lied? Wait… wait… what if… what if that damn medication was actually meant for…
Oh my God.
That can't be.