Ivy made her way to dance rehearsal, following the call sheet she had received earlier that day.
“Cut— Ivy, you botched the move again. What’s with you today? You seem to be in another world. If you're burnt out, maybe take a day off. You've got the routine down anyway. I just wanted you to keep it fresh,” the dance instructor said, a hint of concern lacing his words.
Flushing with embarrassment, Ivy apologized, “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just not feeling it today.”
“No worries. You heading out now? Mr. Howard hasn’t shown up yet though,” the instructor added.
Slipping on her jacket, Ivy assured him, “I’ll give him a heads-up before I go.”
She needed to sort things out with Mara in person.
Mara raised her eyebrows in mock surprise when Ivy called. “Oh? Are you coming to see me?”
Ivy’s voice was icy. “Yeah, you left that photo under my pillow on purpose, didn’t you? Wanted me to come to you? Well, Balfour’s not here to play your games, so drop the act.”
Mara chuckled on the other end of the line. “Don’t flatter yourself, darling. That photo was just a reminder for Balfour not to forget about my sister. It’s you who’s itching for a confrontation. But sure, come on over.”
Ivy was no fool. She proposed a neutral ground - a coffee shop downtown.
“So, are you that scared of me?” Mara taunted.
“I was beginning to think you’d stand outside till the end of time, too frightened to come in,” Mara quipped, taking a delicate sip of her water, her face alight with triumph.
Realizing that Mara wasn’t as confident as she appeared, Ivy felt a surge of determination.
“Don’t kid yourself,” Ivy snapped, leaning forward. “I just have one question for you.”
Mara met her gaze, “Go ahead, ask.”
“How did your sister really die?”
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