Chapter 9:MARISSA’S INTRUSION

 Ivy's POV

Marissa's visit was a complete storm rather than a ripple effect. As I walk the living room, attempting to get rid of the uneasiness that has coiled around my chest, her words reverberate in my mind. With poison in her voice, she added, "You don't know him like I do." "Griffin keeps secrets you wouldn't know."

By that, what did she mean? What made Griffin's silence seem like a response in and of itself?

"Are you alright?" My rambling thoughts are interrupted by Griffin's voice. His shirt sleeves are pushed up and his tie is loose as he leans against the doorway. But he's not looking at me. They seem distracted and far away as if he's in another place.

I nod and swallow the lump in my throat. "I'm all right. Just...imagining.

"What about Marissa?" When he shouts her name, he doesn't even bat an eye. There's no defensiveness, no edge. Just a neutrality that was flat and almost practiced.

"Shouldn't I be?" I cross my arms in response. "Griffin, she came here without permission. She is stating unequivocally that she is not leaving.

He rubs the back of his neck and groans. She is innocuous, as I mentioned. She is simply Marissa.

"What even does that mean?" My voice increases as I become irritated. You're behaving as though this is typical as if she were an old acquaintance dropping in for coffee. She isn't, though. Griffin, you're allowing her to try to get in the way of our relationship.

His tone is stronger than I anticipated as he yells, "I'm not letting her do anything." "You're making too many assumptions about this."

"Am I?" I force him to look at me as I go closer. "Because it looks like she's playing a game and you're the prize from where I'm standing."

Grasping his hair, Griffin lets out a quick exhale. "Look, I'm worn out. Why can't we do this tonight?

However, his dismissal simply makes me more irate. "No, this cannot simply be ignored." Not when she appears everywhere we go, grinning as if she understands something I don't.

"Perhaps she does." Before he can stop them, the words escape, and the room becomes silent as soon as they do. I look at him, looking for any indication that he didn't mean it, and my breath catches in my throat.

"What should that signify?" Even though my voice is hardly audible above a whisper, it causes him to recoil.

"Nothing," he replies too hastily. It's simply Marissa enjoys stirring things up. You are aware of that.

I don't believe him, though. Not now.

The days that follow are filled with stress and unresolved issues. Marissa is present at corporate luncheons, charity galas, and even the coffee shop I often visit. She is always poised and her presence is a deliberate interruption. And every time, Griffin appears more aloof and closed off.

During one gala, she comes up to us holding a champagne flute and wearing a smile that stops short of her eyes.

She remarks, "You two look radiant tonight," her eyes darting between us before focusing on Griffin. "Griffin, I hope our brief conversation is still fresh in your mind."

My stomach sinks. "What exchange?"

Griffin stiffens next to me, his jaw clenched. It didn't matter. Just a brief conversation regarding employment.

Marissa's smile gets bigger. "Oh, it went beyond that. However, I'll let Griffin tell you more. She then gives a wink and walks off, leaving a scent of perfume and discomfort behind her.

I spin around on Griffin. "What on earth was that?"

He dodges my gaze and murmurs, "I don't know." "She is merely attempting to irritate you."

I yell, "Well, it's working." "And by keeping me in the dark, you're not exactly helping."

When his eyes finally lock with mine, I briefly catch a glimpse of something vulnerable and unvarnished. But then it's gone, and in its stead is a wall that I can't seem to go beyond.

I had trouble sleeping that night. Every doubt and anxiety that swirls around in my head is more damning than the last. I hear Griffin's voice murmur faintly from his office at around midnight. His voice is low and anxious as he speaks on the phone.

I sneak closer and strain to hear since I'm so curious.

He says, "She's asking questions," in a quiet but understandable voice. "This can't go on much longer. Marissa is exerting too much pressure.

My heart stops. What is he discussing? And to whom is he speaking?

The floorboard groans under my weight as I lean in closer, and Griffin's voice ends suddenly. His face is a mixture of astonishment and remorse as the door opens and he stands there.

His tone is stern as he says, "Were you listening?"

"To whom were you speaking?" Refusing to back down, I respond.

He snarls, "That's none of your business," and moves by me. "Go to sleep."

However, I am unable to. Not in light of what I just heard. Every possibility that crosses my head is more terrible than the one before it. Is there something he's keeping from me? Is Marissa being honest with you?

I decided to speak with Marissa face-to-face the following morning. As if she's been waiting for me, I discover her at a café, enjoying an espresso.

With her smile as icy as ever, she replies, "Well, this is a surprise." "To whom do I owe the enjoyment?"

I'm not interested in polite conversation. "What are you hoping to get out of Griffin?"

She pretends to be innocent as she tilts her head. "Whatever you mean, why?"

"Stop acting, Marissa. Since you arrived here, you have been playing games. What do you want?

For a brief moment, I notice something deeper beyond the surface of her smile as it falters. She puts down her cup and remarks, "You're more observant than I gave you credit for." "All right. Want to know the truth? I've known Griffin before. Additionally, history tends to repeat itself.

I say, "You're lying," but my tone falters.

She leans closer and asks, "Am I?" "Ask him about the Chicago night. Check to see if he will be honest with you.

As I leave, her words echoing in my ears, my stomach turns. Chicago. What took place in Chicago?

I confronted Griffin once more that night.

"What took place in Chicago?" He glances up from his laptop, and I cross my arms and demand.

He appears to have seen a ghost for a second as his face turns pallid. "How did you find out about that?"

"Marissa," I continue, paying great attention to his response. "I should ask you," she said.

Like an animal in a cage, he stands and paces the room. "It's unbelievable that she would bring that up again."

My voice cracks as I mutter, "So it's true." "What did you do?"

He pauses his pacing and turns to face me, sorrow and terror mixed in his eyes. "I am unable to inform you. Not quite yet.

"Not yet?" I say it again, raising my voice. "Griffin, can you even hear yourself? We are being torn apart by what you are concealing.

His phone buzzes on the table before he can reply. His expression tightens as he looks at it. "I must accept this."

"Are you serious?" He's already out the door when I inquire.

Late that evening, the cliffhanger is revealed. I hear a slight knock at the door while I sit by myself in the living room, mentally reliving every moment. As I get closer, my heart is pounding, and I'm thinking of every situation that could happen.

I open it to find Marissa standing there, her eyes wide with what appears to be dread, her face pale.

Her voice quivers as she replies, "You must understand the truth." "Griffin is not who you believe him to be."

She takes a step closer and speaks in a whisper before I can reply. Check his safe if you don't believe me. The 4-2-1-9 combination is used. You will discover all the information you require.

Then she's gone, vanishing like a ghost into the night.

Her words reverberate in my head as I shut the door with trembling hands. With the decision weighing heavily on me, I cast a peek in the direction of the bookcase that conceals Griffin's safe.

Should I open it?

Or do I allow secrets to lie?

The response will alter everything.