ELLA

Ivy’s mask cracks like cheap porcelain.

One second she’s the blushing bride-to-be, the next her eyes narrow into slits and her lips curl into the ugliest sneer I have ever seen on anyone.

I burst into a peal of laughter watching her fume.

The sweet-little-Ivy act instantly evaporates.

That faux innocence? Gone. What’s left is pure venom, and eyes so narrowed I fear she’s about to morph into some monster.

What a snake.

“You’re not even going to try to deny it?” I ...