The dead end
“From Mr. Nate Hart. Yes, Mr. Nate Hart,” the lady on the line confirmed, her voice a mix of professionalism and warmth.
A jolt of recognition shot through Ivy. “Oh! That’s my husband!” she exclaimed, her racing thoughts shifting into a pool of hope. Could this be another surprise? Was the trip merely a clever trick? Questions flooded her mind, each one igniting the hint of positiveness that Nate was just fine.
“Okay! Um… how about you dispatch the package, or better yet, I’ll come pick it up myself,” Ivy proposed, her heart beating at the thought of seeing him. It was her opportunity to apologize in person.
“Alright, ma'am, that sounds great. I’ll text you the address right after this call. And please, don’t forget to give us five stars if you enjoyed our service! Have a lovely day,” the lady chirped cheerily.
“Of course,” Ivy replied casually as the call ended, her relief washing over her like a balm.
“Thank goodness,” Ivy murmured, a smile breaking across her face.
With renewed energy, Ivy turned her attention to her work and summoned her secretary.
When Ruby entered—an eager young woman in her early twenties—her presence lifted Ivy’s spirits even higher.
“Hey Ruby, um… I’ve finished reviewing the proposal. Please schedule a meeting with them—let’s go by their timeline. No rush, though. I need to leave now; there’s somewhere I need to be,” Ivy instructed, her excitement barely contained as she gathered her belongings.
“Alright, ma'am. You do realize you probably shouldn't have come in today, right? It’s your anniversary!” Ruby said, teasingly glancing at the stacked paperwork.
With a playful grin, Ivy replied, “I know, right?! I have a surprise package from my husband waiting for me—can’t miss that!”
“Wow, your marriage is truly one to admire,” Ruby chuckled. “Alright, be safe out there!” she added with a wave.
“Thanks, dear! I’ll keep an eye out for your email. Don’t forget to forward it to me once you’ve set up that meeting, okay? Take care!” Ivy called back, exiting the office with anticipation buzzing in her veins.
Choosing to drive herself that day, Ivy craved some privacy. The string of emotions and the excitement of the surprise package felt like a perfect excuse to unwind.
As she glanced at the text with the unfamiliar address, curiosity piqued. “This place is quite a trek—thirty minutes without traffic,” Ivy said aloud, scrutinizing the map on her phone. The location was definitely outside her usual haunts.
“Wait—why would Nate choose a gift from somewhere far?” The thought puzzled her. But as she noted its closeness to the airport, a hint of logic clicked into place.
Without another moment's hesitation, Ivy hit the road, a thrilling mix of anxiety and excitement propelling her forward.
…
As Ivy pulled up to the humble little building labeled Bubbles’ Agency, she felt an unsettling vibe in the air. From a far distance away, a swarm of police officers and an ambulance bathed the area. “Must be some kind of accident,” she thought, her heart heavy with sympathy for whatever unfortunate soul was involved.
Pushing aside her concerns, Ivy stepped inside, making her way to the receptionist's desk. “Hello!” she greeted, offering a warm smile that was quickly returned by the receptionist, who seemed to light up at the sight of her.
“Hi ma’am, welcome to Bubbles’ Agency, where your gifts are given with love! How can I assist you today?” The receptionist’s confidence was palpable.
“I’m Ivy Hart, here to pick up a package from Nate Hart?” Ivy replied, her patience wearing thin. The receptionist’s eyes widened in recognition as she dove into her computer.
“Excuse me, but are you the owner of Sheen Cosmetics?” the receptionist asked, barely containing her excitement.
“Uh, yes…” Ivy answered, feeling a faint flicker of discomfort.
“Oh my god, it’s amazing to meet you in person! This is like a dream come true!” The receptionist practically squealed, but Ivy's smile faltered — today had not been her best.
“Could I grab a picture? Please?” the receptionist begged. With a reluctant nod, Ivy obliged, forcing a smile as they posed together.
“Thank you so much!” the girl gushed, returning to her cubicle
“Can we keep this a secret? I’m really in a hurry…” Ivy said.
“I totally understand! Celebs have it rough these days,” the receptionist chirped, but Ivy cut her off, “The package — can I have it now?”
The receptionist's expression shifted as she scrolled through her screen. “I’m so sorry, ma’am, but I’ve triple-checked. There’s no package for you here.”
Confusion washed over Ivy. “What do you mean? I was told to come here… the name was Maya,” she insisted, but the receptionist shook her head.
“I truly apologize, but I don’t see a ‘Maya’ on our roster…”
“No, no. There must be some mistake! My husband sent me gifts through this agency! Let me just call…” Ivy said, grabbing her phone from her bag, but the call wouldn’t connect.
Frustration spilled over. “This can’t be happening! I was instructed to pick it up! This is a joke, right? If this is a scam, I will leave zero stars and take legal action! You’re messing with the wrong person…” Ivy erupted, her voice rising. The receptionist tried to calm her down, but Ivy had already stormed out.
Sitting in her car, Ivy replayed the encounter in her mind, kicking herself for not clarifying things sooner. “I can’t believe this,” she muttered, lips pressed tight. Just then, her phone buzzed with a text from Lana, her best friend: ‘Have you seen the news????’
Ivy rolled her eyes, about to respond when an unfamiliar number flashed on her screen. “Hello?” she answered casually.
“Hi, is this Mrs. Hart? Mr. Nate’s wife?” a deep voice on the other end asked.
“Yes, who’s this?” Ivy’s initial skepticism changed into concern.
“Good. This is Detective Calvin from the state police department. You need to come down to Compton Way, off Darwin International Airport road…”
Panic surged through Ivy. “I’m nearby—just some minutes away, Detective. Is there a problem?” Her instincts were screaming something was off.
“Please, come straight away. It’s urgent!” The gravity in his tone sent chills down her spine. Without hesitation, Ivy started the engine, as she sped off, unaware of the storm that awaited her.
As soon as Ivy arrived, her gaze was drawn to the flashing lights of several police cars, an ambulance, and police officers engaged in urgent conversation. The road ahead was sealed off, hinting at something serious unfolding.
With a mix of confidence and anxiety, Ivy steadied herself and dashed toward the officers in her high heels, her mind buzzing with a myriad of cases about what could have happened.
“Excuse me, I’m Ivy Hart…,” she said quickly as one of the officers she recognized granted her passage.
Detective Calvin, a seasoned officer in his early sixties, approached her almost immediately.
“I’m Detective—”
“Calvin!” she interjected, her curiosity pushing her to ask, “What happened? What is this about?”
“There’s been a fatal accident, and we found a couple of information on the victim linked to you—as his wife. We need you to identify a body,” Calvin said as she nodded, swallowing up.
“Okay!” she simply said, trying to keep it together.
The detective led her to the ambulance where the victims lay.
When Calvin gently lifted the light sheet off the body, he asked, “Is this your husband, Mr. Nate Hart?”
Ivy felt a surge of shock, a pain that was unfamiliar and overwhelming as she gazed at her husband, unconscious body before her. Was this the end for her? She asked herself.