27. Ivy
IVY
T he townhouse is quieter than usual. Dawson insists that’s a good thing.
“Quiet means the world hasn’t caught up to you yet,” he said this morning, handing me coffee and a burner phone I haven’t touched.
The brew Dawson handed me wasn’t bad, strong enough to clear my head, steady enough to feel like a decision made right. I took it as a sign.
Now, I sit at the long, scarred dining table with Sienna across from me and Dawson at the head. The light filtering through the blinds slices the room into strips, of shadow, of promise, of something like tension disguised as hope.
Sienna’s typing on her phone, fast and sharp. “Okay. I’ve got two PR contacts and one old college roommate who works in compliance at the SEC. She still owes me a favor.”
Dawson lifts an eyebrow. “You run a tight operation.”
“She runs a grudge ledger,” I say dryly. “But today, we’re on the same side.”
Sienna doesn’t look up. “Today, we burn things for sport.”
We’re working on a coordinated drop, a controlled leak of the documentation Talia agreed to run with after Dawson made the first contact, bolstered by the new evidence Dawson uncovered from Rosenthal’s files.
It’s not enough to expose Derek. We have to disarm him.
Cripple his channels, disable his influence, break the machinery before it can spin again.
“We’ve timed the press wave,” Dawson says, laying out a folder. “First, financial misconduct. Then personal threats. Finally, leaked audio.”
He slides me a small flash drive. I don’t ask what’s on it. I already know. Derek, mid-threat, mid-smirk. The way he said it like he’d already won. I can still hear his voice in my head—measured, cruel, confident. “She’s too soft to fight. She’ll fold. They always do.”
“Ivy,” Dawson says carefully, “you don’t have to stay through the release. We can move you before it hits.”
I shake my head. “I’m not leaving until this is done. If Jack taught me anything, it’s that silence doesn’t keep you safe. It just delays the wreckage.”
Sienna exhales, her fingers stilled for the first time all day. “You’ve changed, you know. You used to fold the moment people got loud.”
“I used to think surviving meant pleasing everyone,” I say. “Now I know it means protecting the ones who matter, even from themselves.”
Dawson checks his watch. “We drop in four hours.”
I nod, heart steady. But my thoughts drift, back to Jack.
To his hands on my waist, steady and strong.
The way he looked at me like I wasn’t broken, like I’d never even cracked.
The way his voice roughened when he said my name, like it cost him something every time.
I wonder if he’s reading my note again. I didn’t say much, just enough.
Enough to give him hope. Enough to say goodbye without using the word.
Enough to remind him I love him, even if I couldn’t stay.
But I miss him. God, I miss him. I press my fingers against the edge of the table, grounding myself.
I keep thinking of the last moment we shared, his thumb brushing my jaw, his forehead pressed to mine.
It felt like the world held its breath. And I’ve been holding mine ever since.
“Ivy,” Dawson says, pulling me back. “There’s one thing we haven’t accounted for.”
I look up.
“Your father.”
The words fall like a weight between us.
“I haven’t spoken to him in a while,” I admit.
Sienna tilts her head. “Since you left Derek?”
I nod. “He supported me, back then. Said he understood. Said he was proud I walked away from something toxic.”
“So what happened?” Dawson asks.
I glance out the window. “He asked me to make peace with the Wilsons. Said business needed stability. That families like ours had to preserve alliances. I told him that maybe I wasn’t part of the family business anymore.”
Sienna whistles low. “Well. That explains the silence.”
Dawson is already typing something into his laptop. “I’ll loop him into the legal fallout, anonymously. If he still cares, he’ll make moves to protect you quietly.”
“I don’t want protection,” I say. “I want Derek stopped.”
Sienna lifts her coffee in a mock toast. “Then let’s finish what we started.”
Dawson stands. “We’re moving in two hours. Final brief at five. Then we go public.”
The room clears slowly. Sienna squeezes my shoulder on her way out. Dawson nods.
I stay seated. For just one moment longer, I close my eyes and picture Jack, standing at his window, jaw clenched, waiting for a storm he doesn’t know he’s already in. Hold on, I think. Just a little longer. We’re almost free.
An hour later, the air in the townhouse feels electric with motion. Sienna returns with an armful of printouts and her laptop, spreading them across the table like a general mapping a war. Dawson’s on a secure line with Talia, finalizing details of the press drop.
“We’ve got three confirmed outlets ready to publish within ten minutes of the embargo lift,” Sienna reports. “The SEC contact flagged Derek’s offshore transfers. There’s a chance this will open a formal investigation.”
Dawson nods. “Good. We need the fire to catch fast.”
I scan one of the printouts, Derek’s communication records, timestamped and annotated. My stomach turns when I see one labeled, simply, ‘Threat: Ivy.’
A chill runs up my spine. I grip the edge of the paper tighter, knuckles blanching. For a second, I can’t breathe. The page blurs. My name is there, bold and damning, a target.
“What about the board?” I ask, throat tight. “The Foundation?”
Sienna glances up. “They’ve already started distancing themselves. Someone leaked internal memos about ethical concerns. My money’s on Jack planting them.”
The mention of him sparks another pang in my chest. “He’s close,” I whisper.
Dawson looks over. “Close to finding you?”
I nod. “He won’t stop.”
Sienna smiles. “Good. Maybe when this is done, you won’t have to hide.”
There’s a pause.
“Once the drop happens,” Dawson says, “the backlash will be immediate. Derek will try to counter. But we’ve lined it all up, the outlets, the evidence, the whistleblower trail.
If Jack gets to him at the same time, though I don’t know what he’s planning or where he is now, the thought gives me hope. ..”
“Then Derek doesn’t stand a chance,” I finish.
“Exactly.”
We’re not just exposing him. We’re boxing him in. If Jack finds me, if he still wants to, I’d give anything to finish this beside him. That’s the truth I carry with me. That I left to keep him safe, but I ache for the moment I get to see him again. Whatever happens next, I want us side by side.
Later, as we gather in the kitchen for a quick break, Sienna hands me a mug of tea. “You okay?” she asks, softer now that Dawson’s stepped out to take another call.
I nod slowly. “I think so. Just tired. Emotionally.”
“You don’t have to be okay every second,” she says, leaning back against the counter. “It’s been a hell of a week.”
“It’s been a hell of a year.” I offer a thin smile. “But yeah. I guess I didn’t expect to feel this… split.”
“Between wanting to win and wanting Jack?”
I glance at her, surprised by the clarity.
Sienna shrugs. “I’ve seen the way you look when someone mentions him. Like you’re flinching and hoping in the same breath.”
I sip the tea. “I love him. But I don’t know what’s waiting on the other side of this.”
“Maybe he is.”
I close my eyes, just for a second. Let that idea settle. Maybe he is.
Sienna watches me a beat longer, then lowers her voice. “You know, I used to think you were just… careful. Always weighing things. Always trying to be what people needed.”
I meet her eyes, the truth catching in my throat.
“You weren’t wrong,” I say, but there’s a sting behind the words.
Because admitting it means acknowledging the version of myself I once was, compliant, contained, almost complicit.
It hurts to see how much I needed to be cracked open to find the person I am now.
“...But now?” Sienna smiles, just a little. “Now you don’t bend anymore. You decide. That’s who you are. It’s not about rebellion. It’s about truth.”
The words hit deeper than I expect. I look away for a second, blinking fast.
“I didn’t leave Jack because I was scared,” I say quietly. “I left because I wanted him to live. Because Derek was watching and I thought… maybe if I disappeared, he’d be safe.”
“You’re still protecting him,” she says.
“And I’d do it again.”
Silence stretches between us, warm and heavy.
“But next time,” I add, “I want to fight with him, not from a distance.”
Sienna nods slowly. “And I think he’d want that too.”
“Even if it costs everything,” I murmur.
“Especially if it means standing beside someone who finally sees you as you are.”
I stare down at my tea, emotions knotting in my throat. This is what change feels like, not just a shift, but a reckoning.
“Then let’s finish this,” Sienna says. “And give him the world you both deserve.”