CHAPTER 127: NOT OVER YET

Elizabeth stood from her chair and crossed the room to pour herself a glass of water. Her reflection in the mirror above the console table looked composed, calm, elegant. But behind her eyes burned a quiet intensity.

"I warned you, Regina," she murmured to herself. "You chose to protect Ivy even when you knew the truth. You let her hurt not just my son but someone else’s child. Now you’re learning what that costs."

She took a sip of water and let the silence settle around her like silk.

There would be more battles to come—she knew that. Regina wouldn’t give up so easily. She never did. But for now... Elizabeth had the upper hand. The footage was safe. Her identity was hidden. And Ivy’s reputation? Sinking like a stone in the sea.

She walked to the window and looked out over the quiet streets of Zeden. People walked by, busy with their daily lives, unaware of the storm brewing in the high circles of the city’s elite.

Let them gossip. Let them speculate.

Elizabeth would sit back and watch it all unfold.

And if Regina Quinn thought this was over, she had no idea what was still coming.

Elizabeth smiled again, a true smile this time—cold, triumphant, and full of quiet fury.

A soft knock on the door pulled Elizabeth from her peaceful thoughts.

"Yes?" she called out, not turning her head.

The door creaked open a little and one of the maids, young and always a little timid, peeked her head through. "Ma’am," she said carefully, her voice barely above a whisper, "Miss Ivy is downstairs. She’s in the living room waiting for you."

Elizabeth turned slowly toward the maid. Her smile, calm and steady, stretched wider. She didn’t even have to ask what Ivy was doing there. No one had to tell her. She already knew.

"She’s here," Elizabeth murmured, more to herself than to the maid. Her eyes twinkled, and then she chuckled softly. "Of course she is."

The maid stood awkwardly, unsure whether to retreat or stay, her hands nervously wringing the ends of her apron.

Elizabeth waved her off gently. "That will be all. Thank you."

The maid gave a slight bow and disappeared behind the door, closing it softly behind her.

Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other as she rested her arms on the armrests. The grin on her face now was no longer restrained. It was full. Warm. Triumphant. The kind of smile someone wore when they had been waiting patiently—ever so patiently—for a day that had finally arrived.

So... Ivy Quinn had come. The runaway bride. The manipulative little fox who thought she could worm her way into her son’s heart—and home—and make it hers after so causing so much havoc. She had finally cracked. Elizabeth could already picture the look on her face. Pale. Nervous. Her hands probably wringing, mascara smudged from another round of pitiful tears. The poor little actress had reached the end of her stage play.

Elizabeth closed her eyes for a brief second and let herself savor it. The silence. The sense of freedom that lingered just on the other side of this moment.

She didn’t even need to guess why Ivy was here. There was only one reason Ivy would show up unannounced, after all that had happened. After her humiliating stunt at the hospital. After the media firestorm. After Stefan had made it clear he wanted nothing more to do with her.

"She’s here to sign the divorce papers," Elizabeth said aloud, with deep satisfaction. Her words carried through the empty room like music. "She’s finally letting him go."

Her heart swelled with relief, pride, and a kind of protective victory only a mother like her could feel.

For days, she had watched her son suffer just by knowing what Ivy had done and the fact that someone else had been the one loving him only to be discarded by him due to the little bitch’s manipulation.

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Now, all that pain could be behind him.

Now, he would be free.

Free to chase after the woman who truly made him smile without any form of guilt or being held back by the law.

Now Stefan was free to build something real with someone who didn’t come with lies and schemes hidden in her designer purse.

Oh, sweet, complicated Ruby. Elizabeth didn’t know if this was what was best especially since it meant Ivy and Regina will still be part of their lives. But she had seen enough to want to object.

She had seen the way Stefan talked about her over the past few months. The gentleness in his voice. The way he leaned toward her, even without sight. The way his entire energy shifted when Ruby was in the room. That wasn’t fake. That wasn’t a performance.

Ruby taking Ivy’s place had been totally unplanned for. But now? Now she believed Ruby was a gift from fate. And with Ivy finally surrendering, there would be nothing standing between Stefan and the future he deserved.

Elizabeth stood up slowly, smoothing her hand down her blouse. She glanced at herself in the mirror. Composed. Poised. Radiating calm and control. The kind of woman who didn’t gloat—at least not publicly.

She wasn’t going to rush downstairs. Let Ivy wait. Let her stew in her own choices for a little while longer.

No need to appear desperate for her signature. Elizabeth had already won.

As she left her room and walked calmly toward the stairs, she allowed herself one final indulgence. A quiet, private laugh. It slipped out like silk—amused, satisfied, and brimming with the joy of knowing the storm was finally passing.

"Let’s go free my son," she whispered.

And with her head held high, she descended the stairs to collect the victory Ivy Quinn had finally come to deliver.

Elizabeth’s heels clicked softly against the polished floors as she descended the grand staircase.

As she reached the bottom step and turned toward the living room, her eyes immediately found Ivy Quinn—standing stiff and guarded, arms crossed tightly across her chest, eyes scanning the space as if expecting ghosts to rise from the walls.

Elizabeth raised a brow, letting the corners of her lips tilt in a barely-there smile. "Ivy," she said smoothly, voice as polite as it was cold, "to what do I owe this surprise visit?"

Ivy’s posture tensed just slightly. Her eyes flicked toward Elizabeth, searching—measuring. Was this a game? Did Elizabeth truly not know what had dragged her here today? Or was it some carefully crafted act?

Ivy opened her mouth, ready to speak, but Elizabeth cut in effortlessly before a single word could leave her lips.

"I hope no one followed you here," Elizabeth said, glancing out the window casually. "The last thing I need is to start trending alongside you just because you decided to show up at my doorstep. I quite like my mornings without public scandal."

Ivy’s jaw tightened, her lips pressing into a hard line. The jab landed—quiet, precise, and infuriatingly polite. Still, she didn’t rise to the bait.

"Where are the divorce papers?" she said bluntly. "I’m here to sign them."

Elizabeth’s smile didn’t falter. "Now that is the best decision you’ve made since you came back," she said with a slow nod, turning toward the hallway.

She looked over her shoulder and called out, "Martha!"

A soft shuffle of footsteps answered her, and the timid young maid who had earlier delivered the message reappeared.

"In my room," Elizabeth instructed, her voice calm but commanding, "on the nightstand beside the bed—you’ll find a brown leather file folder. Bring it down here."

The maid gave a quick nod and disappeared again.

Ivy said nothing. Instead, she watched Elizabeth closely—too closely. There was something strange about how composed the older woman was. Too calm. Too satisfied.

There was more to all this. Ivy could feel it in her bones.

Elizabeth had expected her to come. Had probably been waiting for this very moment since Stefan released that humiliating video. Or was it before Stefan made the video?

The thought made Ivy’s stomach twist. But she pushed the unease aside, forcing herself to stand taller. Of course everyone thinks this would be my next move, she reasoned. After that video, what else was left for me to do?

Still, the chill in Elizabeth’s demeanor wasn’t lost on her. The smugness that danced in the woman’s eyes—it wasn’t just satisfaction. It was certainty. The kind of certainty that came when you had orchestrated the entire game from the shadows. Could be this be all her doing? It couldn’t be her at the hospital or was she?

The maid returned shortly, clutching the folder as if it were a fragile crown jewel. She handed it to Elizabeth with a small bow and stepped away.

Without ceremony, Elizabeth opened the folder and spread the documents out neatly on the glass coffee table. She handed Ivy a pen, her fingers brushing over the paper as if savoring the weight of the moment.

"Here you go," she said sweetly. "The end of a farce, finally within reach."

Ivy didn’t respond. She lowered herself into the chair, picked up the pen, and began to sign. Each signature felt like another nail in the coffin of her former life—of the carefully curated identity she’d worn like armor.

Elizabeth didn’t say a word until the final signature was complete.

"Finally," she whispered, her tone soft but soaked with meaning.

The word echoed in the quiet room like a final bell.

Ivy stiffened slightly, her eyes flicking up to meet Elizabeth’s. Something about the way she said it, the near-glee behind the word—it was too satisfied. Too final. Too... planned.

No part of this felt like a relief to Elizabeth—it felt like a victory.

Something twisted in Ivy’s gut.

As she stood and handed the file back to Elizabeth, her eyes lingered on the older woman’s face, trying to decipher what cards she was holding so close to her chest.

But Elizabeth, as always, gave nothing away—only that same quiet, unreadable smile.

"I’ll show myself out," Ivy said, her voice clipped.

"Please do," Elizabeth replied, turning her back already, as if Ivy were nothing more than a memory being gently erased from the room.

The moment the heavy front door clicked shut behind her, Ivy pulled out her phone and dialed a number.

It rang twice before a voice answered.

"She’s up to something," Ivy said without greeting. "Keep an eye on Elizabeth Winters. I want to know who she talks to, where she goes, what she’s hiding. Discreetly. I don’t care what it costs."

She ended the call and slipped the phone into her purse, her jaw clenched tight.

Whatever Elizabeth thought she had won today... Ivy was going to make sure the game wasn’t over just yet.