Ivy couldn't control her fury. The office walls seemed to close in on her. Her hands clenched into fists and trembled with the urge to lash out. Every muscle in her body thrummed with a primal fury that threatened to boil over.
She wanted to scream, to hurl something across the room, to vent her frustration in a physical outburst, but the constraints of their professional environment forced her to maintain a veneer of control.
"Bella," she hissed through clenched teeth. Her fingernails dug into her palms, drawing a thin line of blood, but the pain was a mere whisper compared to the white-hot fire consuming her.
Even after seeing those drawings, she wasn't ready to believe that those were Bella's creations. To Ivy, Bella's sudden rise seemed not just improbable but impossible. A woman from a small town, without any notable background or connections, suddenly impressing someone as significant as Miss Willow?
It was beyond belief.
