10. Jack
JACK
T he first thing I notice is warmth. The faint weight of Ivy’s head against my shoulder, the softness of her blanket still draped over us, and the quiet hush of a city just waking.
For a few rare seconds, I don’t move. I let myself feel it, her breathing, steady now, unguarded.
My hand is still wrapped around hers, our fingers linked like neither of us wanted to let go in the night.
I shift slightly, careful not to wake her. She stirs anyway, eyes fluttering open, blue meeting mine in the thin morning light.
“Hey,” I murmur.
“Hey,” she whispers back, her voice still heavy with sleep.
For a moment, neither of us moves. Then she sits up slowly, tucking her knees beneath the blanket.
The sight of her like this, barefoot, hair tousled, the edges of last night still clinging to her, does something to me I don’t have words for.
I stand, stretching the stiffness from my back. “I should go. Change, grab a shower before work.”
She watches me, and for a second I think she might ask me to stay. Instead, she nods, soft and reluctant. “Okay. I’ll see you there.”
I lean down, brushing a hand over her hair, not quite a kiss, not quite enough. “Ivy…” My voice falters. I don’t want to ruin this fragile peace with too much. “Thank you. For last night.”
Her eyes meet mine, steady, unflinching. “Me too.”
I let the words sit between us, then force myself to step away. The hallway feels colder than it should as I close her door behind me.
Back in my apartment, the silence hits hard. Sterile. Empty. I exhale, dragging a hand down my face, but the memory of her head on my shoulder clings stubbornly. The way she let me stay. The way she didn’t pull back. It’s enough to make me believe this isn’t just adrenaline and chaos.
I shower, dress, but I can’t shake the heaviness in my chest. Last night wasn’t just about me. It was about her, what she’s been through, what Derek still tries to take from her. Which is why I reach for my phone.
It rings twice before a low, measured voice answers. “Andrew Whitlow.”
“Andrew? It’s Jack.” My tone is clipped, but there’s no point softening it. He knows me too well. “I need you to make sure Ivy’s name is nowhere near any of Derek’s holdings. Not business, not personal. I want her completely untangled, clean.”
There’s a pause, the faint sound of keys tapping in the background.
Andrew is the kind of man who never wastes words, one of the only people I trust with this sort of thing.
Former corporate counsel, sharp as glass, loyal to no one but the truth and the paycheck.
Still, he’s one of the few I know won’t look the other way when it comes to Derek.
“That’s going to take some digging,” he says at last, voice even, like I’ve just asked him to pull a file, not unravel a snake pit of financial knots. “But it can be done. Do you suspect he’s still tying her to something?”
“I don’t suspect.” My jaw locks as I pace the kitchen. “I know Derek. If there’s even a shadow of control he can keep, he’ll exploit it. He’s too arrogant to let her walk clean.”
More tapping, papers shifting. “Jack…” Andrew’s tone shifts slightly, like he’s bracing me. “There’s something you need to know. I ran a preliminary scan when the engagement ended. Just surface-level. Enough to see if her accounts were still tethered to his.”
I stop pacing, every muscle tightening. “And?”
“There’s a Dropbox folder. Hidden behind a dummy LLC, one of those shells Derek uses when he doesn’t want his fingerprints on something.
His name isn’t attached directly, but the metadata traces back to him.
And it’s linked to her. Screenshots. Photos.
Even a couple of short videos. Jack, it’s invasive.
Not the kind of thing someone keeps by accident. ”
For a moment, the floor tilts beneath me. My grip on the counter turns white-knuckled. “What kind of photos?”
A pause. Longer this time. “Private ones. Some pulled from her phone, some scraped from her gallery login. A timestamp suggests he still had remote access after the breakup. Nothing recent, but recent enough.”
My chest burns. “So he’s still got leverage.”
“Yes,” Andrew says, low. “And the fact that it’s tucked behind a layered LLC tells me he knows it’s valuable. Blackmail-level valuable. He hasn’t used it yet, but if he’s cornered…”
“I don’t care what it takes,” I cut him off, voice sharp. “Get me access. Wipe it. Every copy. If you have to burn through his firewalls, do it. I want it gone.”
Silence hums on the line. Finally, Andrew exhales. “You realize what you’re asking. If I go in there, I’ll leave a trace. Derek will know someone breached him.”
“Let him know,” I snap. “Let him feel it. I’m not letting him hold her hostage another second.”
Another pause, then: “Understood. I’ll start the trace. I’ll call you back within the hour.”
The call clicks off. I stand there, phone still in my hand, chest heaving. The city hums on the other side of the glass, indifferent as ever, while fire builds under my skin. Derek thinks Ivy is still his to rattle. He’s wrong.
Not anymore.