Fury flares up in me. I curl my fists, forcing myself to breathe in and out slowly.
Eight million dollars!
Gregory has been stealing from me for nearly a decade, skimming off the top while controlling every aspect of my life.
"I want him destroyed."
"We'll need evidence. Financial records, communications, proof of coercion or fraud." She closes the folder. "This will be messy, Declan. He'll fight back dirty."
"I don't care. He's already going after Ivy. I'm not letting him win."
She nods, satisfied. "Then let's burn his world down."
We spend another hour going through documents. Patricia takes notes, building the case that will destroy Gregory's career the same way he's trying to destroy mine. When I finally leave the coffee shop, the sun is setting, painting the city in colors that feel too beautiful for how ugly everything has become.
Now that I know how easily Gregory has been tracking my phones, I need to do something about it. I change the phones and transfer my lines.
There are seventeen missed calls and twenty-three unread texts from Ivy.
But I don't text or call back. I don't show up at her apartment or anywhere she might be.
I ignore her messages, each one like a knife to the chest:
Ivy:
Declan, what's happening? Why won't you talk to me?
Ivy:
Did I do something wrong?
Ivy:
Please just tell me you're okay.
Ivy:
I need you.
That last one nearly breaks me. But Riley's voice echoes in my head—you going to her now will only make it worse.
So, I stay away.
After two days of silence, I can't bear it anymore. I text her as King.
King:
I'm sorry I've been quiet. Work has been overwhelming. How are you?
The response comes immediately, like she's been waiting.
Ivy:
I don't know how I am. Everything's falling apart. My research is being questioned. It's undergoing an ethics investigation. I feel like I'm losing everything at once.
Guilt tastes like acid.
I reassure her with my words until she's calm. While we're still chatting, my phone buzzes with a news alert.
