"We both know this isn't about gender, Mr. Blackstone. This is about opportunity. I'm offering Ivy a path forward. Whether she takes it is up to her." He pauses. "Or up to you, I suppose."
And there it is. The real play. He's counting on me to save her. Counting on me to hand him exactly what he wants because I can't stand watching Ivy's career burn.
He's right.
"You want Blackstone as a client?” I grate out.
“I do.”
“Shut the fuck up and listen before I change my mind.” I wait. He doesn’t even breathe. “You've got us. Full-time environmental counsel. Exclusive contract for all East Coast legal work."
The silence on the other end shifts. Sharpens.
“And Ivy makes partner by year's end. No probation. No conditions. And you make damn sure everyone knows it's because of her work, not because of me."
"Of course. Her work has been exceptional—"
"Cut the shit, Bill. We both know what this is." My hand tightens around my phone. "You're getting exactly what you want. But understand I'm watching how this plays out for Ivy. The moment her partnership gets quietly sidelined, her caseload dries up, or she gets passed over for anything she's earned, I pull the contract. And I'll make sure every firm in New York knows why."
I let that land.
"You're getting eight million in annual fees, Bill. Don't be stupid with it."
"Understood. Ivy's contributions to the firm have always been valued on their own merit."
"If that were true, we wouldn't be having this conversation." I hang up and set the untouched glass on the bar cart.
Done.
I stand there, cell in hand, staring at my reflection in the rain-streaked window.
This is it. The moment I lose her.
Not when she finds out about my past. Not when the Blackstone chaos becomes too much. But right now. This phone call.
I'm choosing to save her career over keeping her.
I broke my promise.
And that choice will haunt me for the rest of my life.
Crossing to the bar cart, I pick up my abandoned drink. I don't bother savoring it. Just tip it back, let it burn.
She's going to hate me for this.
When Bill calls her with the good news, she'll know even if he doesn’t tell her I called. Maybe not immediately. Maybe she'll let herself believe it for a day or two.
But she's too smart for that. She'll add it up. The timing. Bill's sudden reversal.
She'll know exactly what I did.
My phone buzzes on the cart. I glance down. It’s a text from Lillianna.
We need to talk. Like Now
I’m surprised she didn’t call sooner about the article in the paper. I don't reply.
Another buzz. This time is my mom.
