What More Could You Want

The late afternoon sun beat down mercilessly as I stood facing Alistair on the sidewalk outside the civil affairs bureau. My heart hammered in my chest, but it wasn't from love anymore. It was pure rage.

"Hazel, please," Alistair begged, reaching for my arm again. "Let's talk about this rationally."

I sidestepped his grasp. "Rationally? You want me to be rational while you marry my stepsister in my wedding dress?"

People passed by, some slowing to watch our confrontation. I didn't care anymore who saw or heard.

"It's complicated," he insisted, lowering his voice. "You know Ivy doesn't have much time left."

"And that makes betrayal acceptable?" I crossed my arms, creating a physical barrier between us. "You had choices, Alistair. You chose her."

His face darkened. "What was I supposed to do? Deny a dying woman her last wish?"

"Yes!" I hissed, stepping closer. "That's exactly what you should have done when that wish involved destroying me!"

Alistair's jaw tightened. "You're being selfish. This isn't just about you."

The accusation hit me like a slap. After everything I'd sacrificed for this man—my blood, my time, my entire adult life—he had the audacity to call me selfish.

"You disgust me," I whispered, the words cutting through the air between us.

His eyes widened in shock. "Hazel—"

"No." I lifted my hand to silence him. "For six years, I gave you everything. My blood kept you alive. And this is how you repay me?"

"It's not that simple—"

"It is that simple!" I snapped. "A real man would have stood by his commitment. You're weak, Alistair. You always have been."

He grabbed my wrist suddenly, his fingers digging painfully into my skin. "You don't mean that. You love me."

The desperation in his eyes disgusted me further. I yanked my arm away.

"I did love you," I corrected him. "Now I see you for what you really are."

His expression shifted, darkening with anger. "Ivy needs me more than you do right now. She's dying!"

The words hung between us. Before I could stop myself, my hand flew up and slapped him hard across the face.

The crack echoed on the street. Alistair's head snapped to the side, a red mark blooming on his cheek.

"How dare you use her illness to justify your betrayal," I said, my voice ice-cold. "You're not marrying her out of nobility. You're doing it because you're a coward who can't say no."

Alistair touched his cheek, staring at me in shock. For once, he seemed speechless.

"We're done," I declared, stepping back. "I'll see you October 3rd for the divorce filing. Until then, stay away from me."

I turned and walked away, feeling lighter with each step. Behind me, I could hear him calling my name, but I didn't look back.

---

"He said what?" Grandma Elaine nearly dropped her teacup.

I sat in her cozy living room two days later, surrounded by the comforting scent of cinnamon and old books. After the confrontation with Alistair, I'd canceled the wedding venue and florist, then driven straight to my grandmother's house outside the city.

"He wanted me to wait for him," I repeated, still shocked by his audacity. "Like I'd be eager to take him back after he's done playing husband to Ivy."

Aunt Margaret snorted derisively. "That boy always did think too highly of himself."

I smiled gratefully at my fierce aunt and grandmother. While the rest of my family had chosen sides long ago—my father siding with his new wife and stepchildren—these two women had always been my rock.

"You did the right thing, sending back his ring," Grandma said, patting my hand. "A man who abandons his commitments so easily isn't worth your tears."

"I'm not crying anymore," I assured her, and realized it was true. The crushing pain had transformed into something else—determination.

"Good." Aunt Margaret nodded approvingly. "Now, tell us about this company you're taking over."

For the next hour, I outlined my plans for Evening Gala. Without Alistair's interference, I could finally implement the creative direction I'd always envisioned.

"You're going to be just fine, sweetheart," Grandma said when I finished. "Better than fine. You're going to thrive."

Her certainty bolstered my confidence. For the first time since Alistair's betrayal, I felt hope stirring within me.

---

Monday morning, I walked into Evening Gala's headquarters with my head held high. Our employees glanced up as I passed, their expressions a mixture of sympathy and curiosity. News traveled fast in our small company.

"Good morning, Ms. Shaw," my assistant greeted me cautiously. "Are you... okay?"

"Better than okay, Tina," I replied with genuine confidence. "Is the design team ready for our meeting?"

She nodded, relief visible in her expression. "They're waiting in the conference room."

The meeting went smoothly. I presented my vision for our winter collection, and the team responded with enthusiasm. Without Alistair's constant budget concerns holding us back, we could finally pursue the bold direction I'd advocated for years.

After the meeting, I returned to my office to find Alistair clearing out his desk in the adjacent room. Our eyes met briefly through the glass partition before I deliberately turned away, focusing on my computer screen.

He lingered longer than necessary, clearly hoping I'd acknowledge him. I didn't. Eventually, he left with his box of belongings, shoulders slumped in defeat.

I allowed myself a small smile of satisfaction. The company was mine now. I didn't need Alistair Everett—not his approval, not his support, and certainly not his love.

Just as I was reviewing the quarterly projections, a shadow fell across my doorway. I looked up, expecting Tina with the fabric samples I'd requested.

Instead, I found myself staring at Ivy.

My stepsister leaned against the doorframe, looking frailer than when I'd seen her at the hospital. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, but her eyes gleamed with the same calculating light I'd known since childhood.

"Hello, Hazel," she said, her voice soft but carrying.

I straightened in my chair. "Alistair just left. If you're looking for him—"

"I'm not here to see Alistair," she interrupted, stepping into my office uninvited. "I came to see you."

Surprise flickered through me, quickly replaced by suspicion. Ivy never sought me out unless she wanted something.

"Me?" I raised an eyebrow. "What could you possibly want from me now, Ivy? You already took my fiancé and my wedding."

She smiled thinly, settling into the chair across from my desk as if I'd invited her to stay.

"Don't be so dramatic, Hazel. This isn't about taking things from you."

"Isn't it?" I couldn't keep the bitterness from my voice. "That's been your specialty since we were children."

Ivy sighed theatrically. "Still holding onto old grudges? I thought you were more mature than that."

"Cut the act," I said sharply. "Why are you here?"

She studied me for a moment, her head tilted slightly. "You know, I always admired your talent."

The compliment, so unexpected, threw me off balance.

"What?"

"Your designs," she clarified, gesturing around the office where sketches adorned the walls. "They're brilliant. I've always thought so."

I stared at her, trying to decipher her angle. In twenty years, Ivy had never once praised anything I'd done.

"Thank you," I said cautiously. "But flattery doesn't explain why you're sitting in my office."

She smoothed her skirt, a designer piece I recognized from our latest collection. "I have a proposition for you."

Of course she did. Ivy never gave compliments without wanting something in return.

"A proposition?" I repeated skeptically.

"Yes." She leaned forward, eyes gleaming with intensity. "I want you to design my wedding dress."

The request hit me like a physical blow. For several seconds, I could only stare at her in disbelief.

"You want me," I finally managed, "to design the dress you'll wear to marry my fiancé?"

"Ex-fiancé," she corrected with a small smile.

I laughed then, the sound sharp and humorless. "You can't be serious."

"I'm perfectly serious." Ivy's expression hardened slightly. "No one designs better than you, Hazel. Why settle for anything less than the best for my wedding day?"

The sheer audacity stunned me into momentary silence. Just when I thought she couldn't possibly hurt me more, Ivy found new ways to twist the knife.

"Get out," I said quietly.

She didn't move. "I'll pay double your usual commission."

"Get out," I repeated, my voice rising.

"Triple, then," she countered, as if this were a normal negotiation. "And I'll ensure you get full credit in all the wedding photos and press coverage. Think of the exposure—"

"Are you insane?" I stood abruptly, hands flat on my desk. "You steal my fiancé, take my wedding dress, and now you want me to design you a new one? What more could you possibly want from me, Ivy?"

She regarded me coolly, unfazed by my outburst. "I thought you might appreciate the opportunity, considering your business situation."

"My business situation is just fine," I snapped.

"Is it?" She tilted her head. "Because I heard Everett Enterprises is reconsidering their investment in Evening Gala now that Alistair's no longer involved."

Ice slid down my spine. The Everett family was our biggest investor. Without their backing, Evening Gala would struggle.

"That's a bluff," I said, with more confidence than I felt.

Ivy smiled, a predator sensing weakness. "Is it? Alistair's father was quite clear when we had dinner last night. Family loyalty runs deep with the Everetts."

My mind raced. I hadn't considered this angle. Of course Alistair's family would side with him—and by extension, with Ivy.

"So this is blackmail?" I asked, my voice steady despite the panic building inside me.

"Not at all," she replied smoothly. "It's a mutually beneficial arrangement. You design my dress, I ensure the Everetts remain invested in your company." She paused. "And who knows? Maybe I could convince them to increase their stake."

The proposal hung in the air between us. I stared at my stepsister, the girl who had spent her life taking everything I valued, now offering me a devil's bargain.

"What more could you want from me?" I whispered, the fight draining from my voice. "Haven't you taken enough?"