It's a character assassination disguised as journalism. A quote buried in the fifth paragraph makes my blood run cold:
"Mr. Hawthorne declined to comment on his relationship with Dr. Chandler, stating only that he wishes her well in her future endeavors."
Future endeavors. Like he didn't spend nights tangled together with me, getting to know my body intimately.
The laptop screen blurs. My breathing goes shallow. Somewhere distant, I hear Sloane saying my name, but the words don't penetrate the ringing in my ears. He wished me well and moved on after saying he loved me.
"Ivy?" Sloane's hands are on my shoulders. "Breathe. Come on, babe, breathe."
I am breathing too fast and too shallow. My chest is tight, my vision tunneling. It's a panic attack.
Sloane guides me to the couch, pushing my head between my knees and talking me through breathing exercises until the world stops spinning.
"I'm okay," I finally manage.
"You're not okay, and that's fine."
She sits beside me and pulls me to her side with a hug. She takes me to the bedroom and talks to me until I fall asleep.
The next few days blur together in a haze of news alerts and legal consultations.
Dr. O'Connell emails daily updates on the ethics investigation. They're reviewing evidence. I should prepare for a hearing in three weeks. My landlord emails an eviction notice citing the media disruption. My parents call exactly once, my mother's voice tight with disappointment and my father's questions distant. Marcus doesn't call at all.
But King's supportive texts are there every night when everyone else has disappeared.
I wish I chose him instead of Declan.
On the fourth day of hiding at Sloane's, the house feels so suffocating that I venture out for coffee wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap. I find a small shop six blocks away, order a latte, and tuck myself into a corner booth.
I'm halfway through my drink when Evangeline Ashford sits down across from me. She's as polished as I remember, with designer clothes and perfectly styled platinum blonde hair.
"May I join you, Dr. Chandler?" she says in a cultured voice.
"You already have."
She signals the barista for coffee, then turns her full attention to me.
"I won't take much of your time. I just wanted to warn you."
My stomach clenches. "Warn me about what?"
"Gregory Stallworth, Declan's agent. He's the man orchestrating your destruction." She says it matter-of-factly, like she's discussing weather patterns instead of my imploding career. "The ethics complaint, the photos, the edited video; that's all Gregory. He did the same thing to me last year when I tried to date someone my father disapproved of. He fabricated evidence of infidelity and leaked it to the press, destroying myrelationship before it could threaten his control over Daddy's political influence."
Distressed, I start rubbing my temple. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I see myself in you. You're a brilliant woman falling for someone in Gregory's orbit." She sighs. "I couldn't save myself. My father's too powerful, and Gregory is too embedded in our lives. But you might be able to save yourself now that you know your enemy."
Thoughts churn in my head at her words.
"If Gregory did this, then Declan knew. He was a part of this?" The last sentence came out in a low, distressed whisper.
She shakes her head firmly.
"Declan's a lot of things, but he's not cruel. Gregory is. And he'll destroy anyone who might make Declan choose something other than hockey and the empire Gregory's built around him." She stands, leaving cash on the table for her untouched coffee. "Save yourself, Dr. Chandler. Stay away from Declan Hawthorne before Gregory finds new ways to destroy you. Some men aren't worth the cost."
She leaves.
I sit there for a long time trying to make sense of everything that has happened and plan for my future. Eventually, the barista gives me subtle signals that I've overstayed my welcome, and I go back to Sloane's apartment.
