Something in Ivy broke free of her earlier careful composure as tears began streaming down her face, the pain of the slap mixing with a deeper, more complicated grief she'd been carrying for weeks now. She reached into her bag with trembling hands, retrieving a small pink gift box she'd wrapped carefully the night before, and held it out toward Regina.
"Happy birthday," Ivy managed, her voice breaking apart entirely, blood still trickling slowly down her cheek. "Sister."
The word landed in the sudden, stunned silence of the ballroom with the force of a physical blow. Regina's raised hand froze mid-air, her earlier fury collapsing instantly into something closer to bewildered shock.
"What did you just say?" Regina's voice came out unsteady now, all her earlier imperious confidence entirely evaporated.
"My mother," Ivy said, tears streaming freely now, the pink box still held out between trembling hands, "she told me before she got sick. She said my father had another family. Another daughter. She said your name was Regina."