Second Marriage, The Billionaire's Planned Love novel Chapter 116

116 Chapter 116 Drawing Battle Lines

Caleb’s POV 1

“Gemma, how is Ivy handling everything?” I asked, stopping at my secretary’s desk outside the Thorne Group executive floor.

“She’s completely shattered, Don. Absolutely broken. But Katelyn prepared some special herbal blend that seemed to calm her nerves. I’ve been drowning in surveillance reports and territory updates, and since I gave her enough financial reconciliation work to keep busy and the crying finally stopped, I haven’t checked on her recently,” Gemma reported with concern.

“I need to speak with her. She deserves to understand the reasoning behind this nightmare I’ve created with the Rossi arrangement,” I said, heading toward Ivy’s office in our money laundering division.

“Caleb, don’t you dare upset my friend again. I’m starting to question whether this forced engagement can possibly be worth the carnage it’s causing,” Gemma warned sharply.

“I understand your concern, but this conversation is unavoidable,” I replied, pushing through her office door.

Inside, Ivy was slumped motionless over her desk, eyes closed, surrounded by scattered ledgers from our offshore accounts. I approached carefully and whispered her name softly, but she didn’t respond. I tried again with more volume, but she remained completely unresponsive. Carefully lifting her into my arms, I realized she was unconscious. I carried her to Xavier’s adjoining office, where my consigliere glanced up from reviewing our latest territory expansion plans with raised eyebrows, silently questioning the situation. I gently placed her on his leather couch and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead before motioning for Xavier to follow me outside.

“I didn’t want to bring her to my office in case she panicked waking up there. I came intending to explain everything about the Rossi alliance, to make her understand why I agreed to this engagement charade, but found her completely unconscious at her desk,” I explained to my closest advisor.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll watch over her while she rests. Ruby mentioned she’s been suffering terrible insomnia since the engagement announcement,” Xavier assured me.

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We quietly exited Ivy’s office, and I approached Gemma’s desk with growing alarm.

“Gemma, what exactly did Katelyn put in that herbal blend she gave Ivy? She’s completely catatonic. I tried rousing her multiple times without success. Should I be calling our family physician?” I asked, and Gemma’s eyes widened.

“Give me one moment.” She grabbed her encrypted phone and dialed quickly. “Katelyn, darling, what did you slip into Ivy’s tea? Something potent enough to sedate a charging bull?” She grinned at whatever response she received. “Perfect, she desperately needed it. Thank you, Katelyn, she looks so peaceful now.” Hanging up, Gemma beamed at me. “She concocted a special blend designed specifically to knock Ivy unconscious. Katelyn insisted she needed proper rest to cope with everything happening with your engagement, and frankly, I completely agree.”

“But what ingredients were in that concoction? Will Ivy eventually wake up, or have we accidentally induced a medical coma?” I pressed, my worry intensifying.

“Chamomile, lemon balm, passion flower, and a massive dose of valerian root,” Gemma rattled off. “That combination is more powerful than any prescription sedative. I honestly doubt Ivy will regain consciousness at all today. But her body desperately requires this rest.”

“Understood,” I exhaled heavily.

“What did you decide to do with that appalling floral monstrosity Yara sent?” Gemma inquired.

“It’s currently in my office, but I’m about to handle that situation personally. I also kept the accompanying card, which might prove useful for establishing boundaries,” I said, already formulating my strategy.

A short while later, I pulled into the circular driveway of the Rossi family compound. I retrieved that hideous floral arrangement from my passenger seat and steeled myself to enter what could only be described as enemy territory.

Stepping into that abominable mansion with its shockingly offensive interior design made my skin crawl with revulsion. The space was absolutely nightmarish. I found myself standing in a room featuring dark forest green walls paired with gaudy gold furniture upholstered in garish leopard print fabric. Christ, what kind of person possessed such appallingly terrible taste? The space overflowed with countless brightly colored ceramic vases, photographs displayed in ridiculously ornate frames, and blood–red velvet curtains that belonged in a funeral parlor. I had genuinely

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descended into the depths of hell. A cold shiver ran down my spine when I heard the devil’s spawn speaking behind me.

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