Ivy Frost had successfully stepped into the core of the Asteridge Circle. It was like dropping a stone into a calm
The ripples had only just begun.
Asteridge Circle Club, half an hour after the vote.
The atmosphere was still tense. Ethan Sterling had excused himself early, citing other matters. The remaining members chatted in small groups, but their gazes kept drifting toward Ivy—the newest "storm center" in their midst.
Ivy sat on a sofa in the corner, holding a glass of juice a server had just brought. Her face was calm and expressionless. But inside, she was anything but calm. That vote—her victory on the surface—had simultaneously made enemies of both Ethan Sterling and the Vance siblings. The days ahead would not be easy.
Celeste Sterling walked to her side. Her voice was very low.
"You succeeded." Her gaze was fixed straight ahead, as if she were saying something unimportant. "Don't forget our 'agreement.'"
She was referring, of course, to the evidence of Justin's infidelity. This fragile alliance was built on mutual exploitation—it could shatter at any moment.
Before Ivy could respond, a figure approached.
Julian Blackwood.
He was carrying a fresh drink. Naturally, casually, he stepped between Celeste and Ivy, creating distance. He handed the glass to Celeste.
"Celeste, Justin seemed quite upset earlier. Shouldn't you check on him?" His tone was flat, but the dismissal was unmistakable.
Ivy caught it—Julian was helping her. Or more precisely, he didn't want Celeste getting too close to her.
Celeste glanced at Ivy, took the drink, and walked away gracefully.
Now only Ivy and Julian remained.
He leaned against the wall beside her, tilting his head to look at her. His dark eyes were as deep as the night sky.
"Welcome to the jungle, Ivy Frost." His voice was low, carrying a strange magnetism. "Now—where do you plan to start hunting?"
His word choice was aggressive, tearing away the polite veneer of the Asteridge Circle.
Almost simultaneously, Casper Hawthorne strode over. He looked irritable. He spoke directly to Ivy:
"Hey. That 'new possibility' you mentioned earlier—you'd better not be messing with us." He'd cast the deciding vote for her, and now he'd come to collect an explanation.
Ivy found herself flanked by Julian and Casper. One deep and unreadable. One blunt and impulsive.
A surge of irritation rose in her chest. As the only daughter of the Frost family, this entire school should have been hers for the taking someday. And yet here she was, going through all this trouble just to join some small club, being judged and evaluated by these people. It was absurd.
She swirled her glass gently. Her gaze swept over Julian—undisguised contempt in her eyes. The corner of her mouth curled into a cold smile.
"Hunting?" She laughed softly. "Maybe I'm the prey waiting to be hunted. The question is—do any of the hunters in this forest have what it takes to interest me?"
It was a response, but also a judgment delivered from above. She positioned herself as the one being chased, but her tone was full of doubt about the "hunters'" abilities.
Then, without giving him time to respond, she turned her gaze to Casper. That same contemptuous smile still hung on her lips.
"Messing with you?" She repeated his question, her voice light. "That depends—do you have the guts and the ability to keep up with me? I'm not here to play children's games."
Her words belittled both of them at once. She implied Julian might not qualify as a "hunter." She mocked Casper for possibly not being able to keep pace.
The amusement in Julian's eyes deepened. He wasn't angry—if anything, he seemed intrigued.
"Interesting." His voice was soft. "Then I'll wait and see—just how big a storm this 'prey' can stir up."
Casper's brows furrowed. His competitive streak ignited.
"Hah. Big talk. We'll see how far you can go."
Just then, Ivy's phone buzzed.
She pulled it out. An encrypted message from her private attorney.
「Miss. Regarding your mother's 'medical records' from that year—we may have found a possible lead. But we need to be extremely careful. The people involved… run deep.」
Ivy stared at the words. Her fingers tightened.
Her mother's "medical records" from that year? Hadn't her father said her mother had a "mental illness"? Why was her attorney using the word "lead"?
But she quickly forced herself to calm down. This was most likely another trap set by her father—dangling bait to see if she would bite, to see if she was still investigating her mother behind his back.
She couldn't fall for it.
She put her phone away. Her face betrayed nothing.
Her mother was her weakness. But she could not let that weakness be used against her. She would win. Here at Asteridge. At the Frost family. She would gather enough power—and then she would bring her mother out in glory.
Her gaze refocused on Julian and Casper.
"A storm?" She laughed lightly at Julian's words. "Maybe I'm just tired of this stagnant pond."
She stopped looking at them. She placed her glass on a passing server's tray with casual elegance.
"Instead of empty talk here—why not do something real?" She paused, leaving a provocative cliffhanger. "The first target… will appear soon enough."
Then she turned and walked away, leaving the whispers and stares behind.
She needed quiet. She needed to think about her next move. Her father's control. Ethan's hostility. The Vance siblings' resentment. Celeste's fragile alliance. Julian's probing. Casper's curiosity. All of them—pieces she would either use or crush.
---
A few days later. The school rooftop.
Ivy leaned against the railing, reviewing the latest updates on the project that Ethan had designed to sideline her.
She had carefully analyzed all the data and documents. She found a problem—in the third-quarter profit forecast, a key figure had been subtly adjusted. It made the entire project look more optimistic than it actually was.
A trap. If she followed this report and the project failed, all the blame would fall on her. Ethan and his allies would walk away clean—or worse, they would accuse her of incompetence.
But she didn't expose it yet. She was waiting for the right moment.
The rooftop door opened.
Casper Hawthorne walked in, wearing his gym clothes, sweating. He'd just finished training.
"Hey, Ivy Frost." He got straight to the point. He walked to her side and leaned against the railing. "I've been thinking about what you said the other day." He was out of breath, but his eyes were serious. "I'm really tired of being told how to live. You said something about making new rules. How do we do that?"
He looked sincere.
At the same time, Ivy's phone buzzed. A message from Celeste Sterling.
「Ethan is quietly contacting other members. Trying to isolate you. Be careful.」
Crisis and opportunity, side by side.
Ivy looked at Casper—sweaty, earnest—then glanced at the warning message on her phone.
Ethan's method of "isolation" was nothing more than using his influence in the Asteridge Circle to keep others from teaming up with her, ignoring her in public, or spreading rumors. Childish tactics. They bored her. They irritated her.
She gave a cold, humorless smile.
"How? Simple." She pointed at his sweaty forehead. "Instead of asking me, use what you're best at. Next time one of Ethan's followers whispers behind my back—or 'accidentally' knocks my books off the desk…"
She paused. A hint of encouragement flickered in her eyes.
"You walk right up to him, grab him by the collar, and say, 'I don't like her. Anyone who messes with her messes with me.' How's that? Direct enough?"
She was practically coaching him to use brute force as a way to "protect" and take sides—the complete opposite of Ethan's subtle, manipulative tactics.
Casper blinked. Then he grinned, flashing white teeth.
"That I can do! Way easier than using my brain." He was clearly excited by this straightforward approach.
After sending Casper off, Ivy turned to leave the rooftop—and nearly ran into Julian Blackwood, leaning against the wall by the door.
She didn't know how long he'd been standing there, or how much he'd heard. He was flicking a metal lighter open and closed. The click echoed in the quiet.
"Using that simpleton as muscle?" His tone was flat. Impossible to read as praise or criticism. "Fastest way to break the isolation, sure. But are you sure you want to look like someone who needs his protection?"
His words hit the mark. He was pointing out the downside of this approach—she might appear strong, but she would also appear dependent on someone else's brute force.
Ivy looked at him. Her irritation and contempt peaked in that instant.
Who was he to judge her from that high horse? What gave him the right? A bastard like him?
She stepped forward. Looked him straight in the eye. Her voice was cold and clear.
"Judging me?" She paused. The corner of her mouth curled into a smile of utter contempt. "Who do you think you are?"
The air seemed to freeze.
Julian's fingers stopped moving. His usually distant, amused expression iced over. Deep in his eyes, something cracked—a flash of rare shock, quickly replaced by a dangerous gleam.
He slowly straightened. His dark gaze locked onto her. Sharp. Piercing.
"Ivy Frost." He said her name. His voice was lower than before, carrying the oppressive calm of someone who had been insulted and was now holding himself back. "You always… surprise people."
He didn't answer her question about whether he was "qualified" to judge her. Because the question itself was a judgment from above.
Those words—Who do you think you are?—had just shattered the ambiguous boundary between them.
He looked at her for a long moment. His expression was unreadable. Then, without another word, he turned and walked off the rooftop.
But Ivy knew—this was not over.
Her phone buzzed again.
A message from her father. As cold and controlling as always.
「Come home tonight. There will be guests. Something important about your future『arrangements.』Be there.」
Arrangements. The word filled her with disgust and dread.
---
That evening. The Frost mansion.
The moment Ivy stepped into the living room, she saw a combination she had never expected.
Dominic Frost. Chairman Blackwood of the Blackwood family. And Julian Blackwood.
Julian had changed out of his school uniform. He wore a tailored dark suit. His black hair was meticulously styled, accentuating his handsome features and cold aura. He sat with none of the lazy distance he showed at school. Instead, he carried a restrained sharpness befitting his position.
When he saw Ivy enter, his eyes met hers for a fleeting moment. There was no surprise in them—only an unfathomable stillness. As if he had known this was coming all along.
Dominic Frost smiled—a rare, almost "loving" smile—but his tone allowed no argument.
"Ivy, this is Chairman Blackwood and his son Julian. Our families are discussing a strategic partnership that will reshape the market." He paused. His gaze lingered meaningfully on Ivy. "And to ensure this partnership is solid, Chairman Blackwood and I agree—your engagement to Julian is the perfect bond."
Engagement.
To Julian Blackwood.
Ivy understood in an instant. Her father wanted Julian's rising star power. The Blackwoods wanted her status as the Frost family's only daughter and the resources behind her. What the two of them thought—it didn't matter.
Chairman Blackwood spoke next. His voice carried the casual authority of a man used to being obeyed.
"Julian. Take good care of Ivy from now on."
Julian stood.
He walked to Ivy. Close enough for her to smell the cool, clean scent on him. He extended his hand. His movements were flawless. His voice was calm—impossible to read.
"Ivy Frost. Let's take care of each other."
His eyes were deep. A storm brewed beneath the surface that she couldn't decipher. That phrase—"Let's take care of each other"—felt like pure mockery. Just hours ago, on the rooftop, she had thrown Who do you think you are? in his face. Now, hours later, he stood before her as her "fiancé," offering his hand.
Her father's gaze carried undeniable pressure. Chairman Blackwood's eyes were full of scrutiny.
All the pressure converged on her.
Ivy's suppressed fury and her dread of the future exploded at once. She knew why her father was so desperate to marry her off. He probably had another woman. Maybe she was even pregnant with a son. Once that son was born, her value as a "daughter" would plummet. He wanted to unload her—this "money-losing asset"—before that happened. Make room for his precious future heir.
She ignored Julian's outstretched hand. Her gaze pierced Dominic Frost like an icicle. Her voice rose with barely contained fury.
"Father. What are you doing?"
The question froze the entire living room into dead silence. Chairman Blackwood frowned. Julian slowly withdrew his hand, his eyes fixed on her, unreadable.
She pointed at Julian. Her words were knives, thrown at her father.
"You're finding a bastard to marry me off to? Selling your daughter so quickly?"
"Ivy! Watch your mouth!" Dominic's face turned purple. He shouted.
But she didn't stop. She stepped forward.
"What's wrong? Afraid you're getting too old? Afraid you won't have time to produce a son to inherit the company? So you're in a hurry to package me—this 'money-losing asset'—off to make room for your precious future baby boy?"
The words were unforgivable. They tore open Dominic Frost's deepest, most secret calculations.
Dominic's chest heaved with rage. He shot to his feet. Raised his hand—
"Dominic." Chairman Blackwood's authoritative voice cut in. A hint of displeasure. "The child is young. She needs guidance."
Dominic's hand froze mid-air.
In the chaos and profound embarrassment, Julian Blackwood suddenly laughed.
The laugh was quiet. But in the silent room, it was sharp. Jarring.
Everyone looked at him.
He raised his eyes. The stillness in them was gone. Instead, a cold, burning fire blazed in his gaze, fixed directly on Ivy.
"'Bastard'… 'money-losing asset'…" He repeated the insulting words slowly, his lips curving into a cruel smile. "Ivy Frost. It seems in each other's eyes, we really are… a perfect match. Garbage and trash, made for each other."
He didn't deny her accusations. Instead, with self-mockery and sharp-edged aggression, he tied them together on the same ship of humiliation and opposition.
It made Ivy feel sick.
She stepped forward. Looked Julian straight in the eye. Her voice was sharp and cold as shards of ice.
"Who's a perfect match with you? Don't flatter yourself."
She poured all her disgust and contempt onto him.
"You dragging me down with you—it pisses me off. You're you. I'm me. We're not the same kind of people. We never were. We aren't now. And we never will be."
Julian's cruel smile vanished. Replaced by pure, cold ice. The fire in his eyes seemed extinguished in an instant—leaving only a bottomless frozen lake.
"Is that so?" He finally said. Two words. Barely audible.
He looked at no one else. He gave a slight bow to his father. "Father. It seems tonight is not suitable for further discussion. I'll take my leave."
He turned and walked out of the living room.
The engagement farce was over—for now—in the most humiliating way possible.
---
Ivy's bedroom. The door slammed shut.
After the living room drama ended, Dominic Frost's face dropped all pretense.
He didn't say another word. He grabbed Ivy's arm—hard enough to bruise—and dragged her roughly up the stairs. He pushed her into her room.
The door slammed shut. The sound echoed.
Dominic released her. He straightened his suit sleeves. Slow. Deliberate. Oppressive.
"Ivy Frost. Have I given you so much freedom that you've forgotten who you are?" His voice wasn't loud. But every word hit like a hammer.
"You think your little rebellion means anything? Do you know how much money your little speech in front of Chairman Blackwood just cost this family?"
He stepped forward. His shadow loomed over her.
"Let me make this clear. The engagement to the Blackwood family will happen. It affects the group's strategy for the next decade. This isn't something you can change with a tantrum."
"Accept it. Good. Don't accept it—" He paused. A cruel smile twisted his lips. "Then I will cancel all of your mother's 'special care.' She'll go back to the most basic level of treatment. Guess how long she'll last, in her current condition?"
He crushed her with her weakest point. Her most vulnerable spot.
This wasn't a negotiation.
This was a notice.
"Also. Stop dreaming about things that don't belong to you. Be a good Frost daughter. Complete your 'task.' And you and your mother will keep the dignity you have now. Otherwise—"
He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
"Next week. The Blackwoods are hosting a banquet. The engagement will be announced officially. You will attend. And you will behave."
He gave her one last cold glance. Then he turned and left.
The door closed.
Ivy's back pressed against the cold wood. She slid slowly down until she sat on the floor.
She knew.
Her father meant every word.
If she fought back again, he really would cut off her mother's care. What would happen to her mother then? She didn't dare imagine.
But—to accept this engagement to Julian Blackwood? To become like her mother? A puppet on her father's string? To live her whole life under someone else's control?
She clenched her fists. Her nails dug deep into her palms.
No.
She would never accept it.
Even if she had to pretend for now—she would find a way. She would break this cage.