+++

Harper stepped outside, phone pressed to her ear, her voice low but cutting. “Kim, I need you on a video call. Now.”

“Harper, what’s going on?” Kim’s tone was sharp with concern, but Harper’s short reply silenced her questions.

“Just get on the call.”

When Kim appeared on the screen, Harper turned the camera toward the devastation. The dull, gray afternoon light illuminated the egg-splattered walls, the shredded toilet paper hanging like morbid streamers in the trees, and the graffiti scrawled in hateful red across Ivy’s cottage.

“Oh, my god,” Kim breathed, her usually composed voice faltering.

“Yeah,” Harper said flatly. “This is what Ivy woke up to. What she had to hide from all night.” Her tone was like a knife’s edge, cold and precise.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” Kim said, all business now. “I’m bringing a team. Stay put.”

“Not like I’m leaving her alone,” Harper muttered before hanging up.

By the time Kim arrived, flanked by two burly men with serious expressions, Harper had already taken control of the situation. She stood near the front of the house, arms crossed, her eyes a storm of fury. She hadn’t left Ivy’s side until Kim arrived, and even now, her focus remained split between checking in on the artist and glaring daggers at anyone who dared to approach the art studio.

Kim stepped out of the car, taking in the scene with a grimace. “This is worse than I thought,” she muttered.

“No kidding,” Harper snapped, her patience already fraying.

Kim’s team began assessing the damage, retrieving the old camera’s footage and canvassing the neighbors for any other angles they might have captured. Harper stayed rooted near the house, a silent sentinel, her dark presence an unspoken warning to everyone to tread carefully.

When Kim approached, clipboard in hand, Harper’s gaze fixed on her like a hawk.

“How is she?” Kim asked, her voice quieter now.

“Fragile,” Harper said curtly. “And no, you can’t see her.”

“Harper, I need to check in with her—”

“No.” Harper’s voice was firm, a low growl of authority. “She doesn’t need a bunch of people swarming her right now. She’s barely holding it together. You want to help? Handle this mess. Leave her to me.”

Kim bristled. “Harper, I get that you’re protective, but this is my client—”

“She’s more than a client,” Harper interrupted, stepping closer, her glare unwavering. “And until this is sorted, she doesn’t need to deal with you or anyone else. Just focus on finding out who did this.”

Kim opened her mouth to argue but thought better of it. Harper’s energy was volcanic, ready to erupt. With a frustrated sigh, she turned her attention back to her team.

Inside the cottage, Harper carefully gathered some of Ivy’s clothes. She paused as she saw the window in Ivy’s bedroom had been covered in some shit-looking substance from the outside. Harper’s fist tightened as she thought of Ivy having been here and seen that, and she had been through all that alone.

Harper swallowed hard before she bundled up the clothes and left the cottage through the back door, heading back to the silo where Ivy sat shivering in the cold room. 

Harper, speaking softly, coaxed the artist into changing. Ivy moved like a ghost, her steps hesitant, her expression hollow.

“It’s okay,” Harper murmured, holding up a sweater. “This one’s soft, right? You like this one.”

Ivy nodded faintly, letting Harper drape it over her shoulders. Harper’s touch was gentle, her movements deliberate, as though Ivy might shatter at any moment.

“I’m just going to pack your painting into the car, okay?” Harper said, her voice low and steady. “Then we’re getting out of here.”

Ivy didn’t respond, but Harper saw the slight tremor in her hands as she reached for her brush-stained jeans.

Harper carried the painting out of the silo carefully, placing it in the backseat of er car as though it were a sacred artifact. The sight of the vandalized cottage made her stomach churn, her fury bubbling up again. She stalked over to Kim, who was reviewing the grainy footage from the old camera.

“Anything useful?” Harper demanded.

Kim’s jaw tightened. “A group of young people. They showed up late at night and stayed for hours. They’re on every camera the neighbors had, too. We’ll get their faces.”

“Good,” Harper said, her tone cold and cutting. “Because when we do, they will pay for every second of this.”

Kim glanced at her, a flicker of unease in her eyes. “Harper, I need you to stay level-headed. Let the authorities—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Harper snapped. “This isn’t just about property damage. They terrorized her, Kim. Ivy doesn’t feel safe in her own home anymore. I’m not sitting on my hands while the cops ‘investigate.’”

Kim exhaled sharply but didn’t press further. She’d never seen Harper like this—so raw, so fiercely protective.

Harper turned without another word, heading back inside to Ivy. The moment she stepped through the door, her expression softened. She found Ivy sitting on the edge of her makeshift bed, clutching a blanket.

“I got everything ready,” Harper said gently, crouching before her. “We’re leaving as soon as you’re ready.”

Ivy looked at her, her eyes glassy and red-rimmed. “You don’t have to… do all this for me.”

Harper’s jaw tightened, but her voice remained steady. “I do. Because you don’t deserve this, Ivy. And I’m not letting anyone hurt you like this again.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with promise. Ivy’s lips quivered, but no tears fell this time. Instead, she nodded and let Harper take her hand, guiding her toward the door and into the safety Harper was determined to provide.

***

Harper carefully opened the passenger door of her car, her movements deliberate and precise. Ivy hesitated, clutching the blanket she’d wrapped around herself, her fragile frame trembling.

“It’s okay,” Harper said softly, crouching to Ivy’s level. “Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

Ivy nodded faintly, letting Harper guide her into the seat. Once Ivy was settled, Harper pulled a mask from her bag and slipped it over Ivy’s face, adjusting it gently over her ears.

“Why—?” Ivy’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Just in case,” Harper murmured. “We don’t know if they’re still watching. This is just to keep you out of sight.” She hesitated before adding sunglasses, her touch light but protective. “Better to be safe.”

Ivy didn’t argue, sinking back into the seat as Harper tucked the painting securely into the back of the car. Her expression darkened as she closed the door, her mind churning with anger and worry.

Kim had driven off to interview the neighbouring restaurants to see if she could glean even the tiniest information that might have been overlooked. While Harper waited for Kim to return, she went through Ivy’s things and gathered anything she figured would be important, such as Ivy’s passport, driving licence, wallet and house keys, putting them all in a cute wicker bag that she saw was placed neatly next to her Ivy’s bed, and hung it around her body, intending to pass it to Ivy later. With Ivy’s items in hand, she left the house to sit and wait for Kim on the porch.

Kim’s car pulled into the driveway moments later. Parking just behind Harper’s car and getting out, Kim ran a hand through her hair. As she got out, she saw Ivy sitting in Harper’s car, staring listlessly into the woods.

Before Kim could approach Ivy, Harper stood up from the porch step, her eyes narrowing as she stalked toward her.

“I’ve got Ivy in the car,” Harper said curtly. “And the only thing she saved from this nightmare was that.” She pointed toward the backseat, where the painting sat, unharmed amid the chaos.

Kim’s face paled, her unease evident. “I didn’t realize—”

“Yeah, well, now you do,” Harper snapped, cutting her off. “Let’s talk inside.”

Harper led Kim into the cottage, the stench of rotting eggs and ammonia thick in the air. The destruction was even more jarring in person—the hateful words scrawled across the walls, the shattered planters, the filth that clung to every surface. Harper’s fists clenched at her sides as she turned to face Kim.

“Look at this,” Harper said, her voice low but trembling with rage. “Look at what she’s dealing with. And tell me, Kim, how much longer are we going to pretend this is okay?”

Kim shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting around the ruined space. “Harper, I—”

“No,” Harper interrupted, stepping closer. “You’re going to listen to me. Because this?” She gestured broadly at the devastation. “This isn’t just some ‘unfortunate incident.’ This is a direct result of Ivy getting caught up in your hair-brained scheme to boost viewership. And now it’s costing her everything—her peace, her safety. Hell, it’s costing her her life, Kim.”

Kim’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue. “You think I don’t feel responsible for this? I never wanted any of this to happen.”

“Then start counting the cost,” Harper shot back. “Because Ivy sure as hell is paying it. And if you’re unwilling to fix this, maybe it’s time to let her out of this contract before it destroys her completely.”

Kim exhaled sharply, her hands on her hips as she stared at the floor. “You’re right,” she said finally, her voice grim. “This isn’t what I wanted for her—or anyone. I’ll talk to the legal team. If she wants out, we’ll break the contract. And I’ll ensure she gets paid for everything up front, no strings attached.”

Harper’s eyes softened slightly, but her tone remained firm. “Good. But hold off on telling her for now. She’s barely holding it together. First, we deal with this—find out who did it, why they did it, and ensure they don’t get away with it.”

Kim nodded, her expression resolute. “I’ve filed the police report. And my team is on this. I’m doing all I can with the resources we have at our disposal.”

Kim turned and left the house without another word, her footsteps echoing down the porch steps. Harper stayed behind for a moment, her gaze lingering on the wreckage she could see that had been done to the beautiful trees that boarded Ivy’s home. Her fingers twitched, itching to do something, to fix something.

She finally turned and returned to the car, where Ivy sat waiting. Opening the driver’s door, she slid in and glanced at her. “You okay?”

Ivy nodded weakly, but Harper wasn’t convinced. “Don’t worry,” she said, her voice low and steady, a promise laced with steel. “I’m going to take care of this. No one will ever touch you—or your home—again.”

Ivy’s lips trembled, but she didn’t speak. She leaned her head back against the seat, letting Harper’s words wrap around her like a shield.