"Your work is exemplary," he says, spreading his hands. "All I did was make sure they recognized that."
"Tell me honestly," I say, stopping in front of him. "If you weren't sleeping with me. If I were just an attorney you hired and didn’t know me beyond my work, would you have called Bill?"
The silence stretches. He could lie. Should lie, probably.
"No," he says. “But—”
"And if you hadn't offered eight million in business, would they have put me on partnership track?"
"Probably not."
"So my career is now directly tied to our relationship. My success is tied to your money. My reputation is tied to sleeping with you." My throat burns, but I force the words out anyway. "That's not a career, Thorne. That's being a kept woman with a law degree."
He flinches like I've hit him.
“I’m protecting you,” he says quietly.
"You were controlling me." I shake my head. "Just like you tried to control the narrative of your father's corruption. Just like you tried to control Williams in that jail cell. Just like you're trying to control how this whole scandal plays out."
"Someone has to!" he shouts.
“Your brother won't speak to you. I'm standing here telling you that you destroyed my career trying to save it. You keep losing people, Thorne. Have you ever wondered why?”
He goes very still. "I can't just stand by and watch."
"Yes, you can!" My fury is hot and clarifying. "You can respect that I'm an adult capable of fighting my own battles. You can trust that I know what I'm doing with my own career. You can let people fail or succeed on their own merits instead of swooping in like some kind of bourbon-soaked Batman!"
Despite everything, the image’s absurdity almost makes me laugh. Then I remember I'm the punchline.
"And you know what the worst part is?" I drop the volume but not the edge. "I was falling for you. The real you. The man who makes me laugh, who challenges me, who sees me as an equal. But that's not who you are, is it? Not really."
His hand flexes at his side, like he wants to reach for me. "Ivy—"
“You literally JUST promised me you'd stop making decisions alone. We just had this exact conversation. And the first time something affects me personally, you do it anyway? You proved you CAN change, Thorne. You just won't. Not when it really matters."
He takes a step toward me. I back up onto another stair. We are eye-to-eye now.
"You're your father with a conscience that kicks in five minutes too late."
The words land like a physical blow. I watch him absorb them.
"I know." His voice is flat. Dead. "I know I am."
"You made a unilateral decision about my career, my reputation, my future, without consulting me. That's exactly what he did to my mom. Over and over. It's why she made excuses for me not to visit her and told me to stay far away fromyou and your brother. Who wants to watch someone they love get steamrolled by Blackstone 'protection'?"
"Ivy, that's not—"
I hold up a hand. "I need space. From you, from this, from all of it." I move toward the stairs, need to get away from him before I start crying or screaming or both. "Don't call me. Don't text. Don't send any more money to my firm. Just... don't."
"Where are you going?"
I pause halfway up the stairs and look back at him. He looks smaller somehow. Diminished. The great Thorne Blackstone reduced to just a man who fucked up.
"Somewhere you're not," I say. "Somewhere I can figure out who I am when I'm not in your shadow."
I start up the stairs.
"Ivy, wait."
