I Swapped His Fake Gift for a Real Life novel Chapter 26

Chapter 7: Storm’s Theft

Nova’s throat tightened. Her fingers clenched the shawl’s edge like a lifeline.

Then–slowly–she unspooled her grip.

She knew resistance was futile. He’d take it by force if needed.

As she handed it over, Ivy accepted it with a contrite smile. “Thank you. I’ll have it cleaned and returned.”

“No!” Nova shook her head violently, molten panic rising.. “It cannot be washed. Dry clean only. I’ll send someone for it

tomorrow.”

Ivy nodded, “Understood.”

Headlights pierced the rain. Their chauffeur pulled up.

Zane glanced at Ivy’s pallor, his brow furrowed. “Ivy’s coming down with something. I’ll take her home.” He didn’t look at

Nova. “It’s out of your way. Find your own ride.”

He didn’t wait for her reply. Shielding Ivy from the downpour, he ushered her into the car.

The door slammed. Tires hissed on wet pavement. The black sedan vanished into the storm.

Alone on the steps, Nova watched rainwater soak the hem of her gown.

The streets were deserted.

She waited forty minutes in the lashing wind before a taxi appeared.

By the time she reached home, she was drenched and shivering violently. Her head throbbed.

She forced down fever reducers and collapsed into bed.

Sometime deep in the night, her phone buzzed relentlessly. Agony spiked through her skull Lifting a hand was impossible. She let it vibrate into silence.

Morning brought a broken fever and a throat scraped raw. Nova dragged herself upright, gulped water, and finally

checked her phone.

Dozens of unread messages–all from Ivy.

The first image stopped her breath-

Her grandmother’s heirloom shawl, submerged in water. The fine cashmere was a sodden, misshapen ruin.

Messages cascaded:

Chapter 7 Storm’s Theft

25.24%

‣ GoodShort

앞

[Oops! Forgot it couldn’t get wet. Tossed it straight in the basin when I got home.]

[So sorry! What’s it worth? I’ll pay you. The material’s lovely–I’ll salvage it for a scarf or something!]

[Silence means yes, right? How’s thirty bucks? You said granny made it–should cover it?]

The final photo: The shawl shredded. Deliberate, jagged cuts frayed its edges into tatters.

Rage ignited Nova’s blood. She threw off the covers. Fever forgotten, she stormed out.

At Ivy’s apartment door, Nova pressed the bell. Her eyes were arctic.

Ivy answered in loungewear, feigning surprise, “Ms. Sterling? What brings you-?”

“Where is it?” Nova’s voice cut like glass.

Ivy turned, retrieving the mutilated fabric from the sofa. “This? But I paid for it.” She checked her phone. “You didn’t

accept the thirty? Was it too low? Fine–twenty more. Handmade by your granny shouldn’t cost much…”

Nova’s palm connected with Ivy’s cheek. Hard.

Ivy staggered back, clutching her face, eyes wide with theatrical shock. “You–you hit me?!”

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