Transmigrated: I Became My Nemesis's Woman novel Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Madam you came

[Globe International]

"Sir, are you sure Miss Ivy won’t try to run away this time?" Taylor asked skeptically, watching as his boss left her behind and returned to his work.

Xander paused and looked up, meeting Taylor’s cautious gaze.

"No," he said calmly. "Not when I’ve left her in good hands."

His tone was firm, leaving no room for doubt. The confidence he carried wasn’t something Taylor could question. After all, Xander had never been wrong when it came to Ivy.

"Make sure the driver is sent to pick her up. I’m sure the meeting won’t take long," Xander added, already shifting his attention back to the documents in front of him.

Taylor hesitated for a moment, still unconvinced—but in the end, he simply nodded and followed the order.

***

Meanwhile, back at the restaurant, Ivy sat across from a middle-aged woman who looked as though she had just returned from a vacation.

A wide-brimmed hat. Oversized sunglasses. A polka-dot dress that seemed almost too cheerful for the setting.

At first glance, she looked ridiculous.

But the moment she lifted her head slightly—

The air around her shifted.

Cold. Sharp. Oppressive.

Ivy leaned back in her chair, her gaze flickering with mild annoyance as she studied the woman.

Is she trying to intimidate me? Raven thought, unimpressed.

The woman slowly removed her sunglasses, revealing a pair of calculating eyes that locked onto Ivy like a predator assessing its prey.

"You’ve changed," she said coolly. "Or should I say... you’ve gotten bolder?"

Ivy didn’t respond. She simply observed the woman—someone whose presence stirred nothing but unpleasant memories in her mind.

A faint smile tugged at the woman’s lips as she watched Ivy’s unwavering gaze—but she didn’t stop.

"What made you think I wouldn’t find out what you were up to when you approached Mr. Emerson?" she continued, her voice dropping into something colder. "Did you really think you could enjoy all the benefits alone?"

Silence.

Ivy’s fingers, which had been tapping lightly against the table, stilled.

Florine smirked.

"So," she said lazily, "if you don’t want me to expose your little lie, then keep playing the game—and bring me the money."

The brief trace of amusement vanished from her face, and the temperature between them seemed to drop several degrees.

Ivy said nothing.

Her silence only sharpened Florine’s expression.

With a soft scoff, Florine stood up and slipped her sunglasses back on.

"And if you even think of betraying me," she added coldly, "don’t forget what you’ll have to face in return."

Without another glance, she turned on her heels and walked away.

Ivy remained still, her eyes following the woman’s retreating figure.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

But inside— chaos erupted.

Memories surged forward, one after another—sharp, suffocating, impossible to ignore.

The humiliation, control and endless harassment.

All at the hands of the very woman she had once been forced to call mother.

Raven’s fingers curled slightly. And for the first time since the conversation began—her eyes turned cold.

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