27. IVY
IVY
Firestorm
The pipette trembles in my hand.
I'm supposed to be measuring cerebro-spinal fluid samples, calibrating data for my research that's been sitting dormant since the ethics investigation cleared me. Dr. O'Connell gave me full lab access again, though working here feels hollow after everything that happened.
But my hands won't stop shaking.
It's been a couple of days since I last saw Declan and I threw myself into work. Days of pretending I don't lie awake remembering the devastation in his green eyes when I told him we were done.
The lab door crashes open.
Sloane stands there, chest heaving like she's run the entire way from her office. Her freckled face is flushed, eyes wide with something between shock and excitement.
"Turn on the TV," she gasps. "Now."
"I'm in the middle of something."
"Ivy, turn on the damned TV. Right now."
My stomach drops. That tone means something catastrophic or monumental is happening. I'm not sure I can handle either, but I set down the pipette and pull up the news stream on my laptop.
Every channel shows the same image of the Raptors' press conference room packed with reporters. The caption reads:
“brEAKING: Raptors Star Holds Emergency Press Conference.”
The Metro Raptors logo gleams behind a podium where Declan stands, flanked by a severe-looking woman in a gray suit. I snap a picture and search for the woman. She’s Patricia Ammon, a lawyer.
My eyes glance back at the laptop screen.
Declan looks terrible.
His dark hair is messier than usual, falling across his forehead. The angular jaw I've traced with my fingers is covered in more stubble than I've ever seen. His green eyes are bloodshot, ringed with exhaustion.
But his shoulders are squared, his jaw set with determination.
"Thank you for coming," he begins, voice rough. "I've called this press conference to address serious criminal allegations against my former agent, Gregory Stallworth, and to correct false information that has damaged an innocent person's reputation."
Patricia touches his arm, a clear warning. He ignores her.
"For nine years, I trusted Gregory Stallworth to manage my career and finances.
But I recently discovered that trust was catastrophically misplaced.
“ His hands grip the podium edges, knuckles white.
"Gregory has systematically stolen from me, skimming approximately eight million dollars through fabricated expenses, hidden accounts, and manipulated contracts. "
Murmurs ripple through the press corps.
"I have extensive documentation proving this theft.
Bank statements showing unauthorized withdrawals.
Emails discussing how to hide the transactions.
Financial records that don't match what was reported to me.
" He reaches into a folder and pulls out a thick stack of papers.
"I'm releasing all of this evidence publicly today.
Copies are being distributed to law enforcement, the league, and the press. "
A reporter shouts a question. Declan holds up a hand.
"I'm not finished." His voice hardens. “Gregory's crimes extend beyond financial theft. Three weeks ago, a video surfaced allegedly showing Dr. Ivy Chandler, a biomechanics researcher contracted with the Raptors, falsifying concussion research data."
My breath stops.
"That video was fabricated. Edited and manipulated using footage Gregory obtained through illegal access to facility security systems." Declan's jaw clenches.
"Dr. Chandler's research was completely legitimate, her methodology sound.
Her findings were accurate. Her reputation was destroyed by a man trying to maintain control over my career and personal life. "
The room erupts. Cameras flash. Reporters surge forward shouting questions.
"Dr. Chandler had a personal relationship with me," Declan continues, speaking over the noise.
"Gregory viewed that relationship as a threat to his influence.
When I refused to end it, he targeted her professionally.
He filed a false ethics complaint, fabricated evidence.
He leaked that video to destroy her credibility and force me back under his control. "
His green eyes find the camera. For a moment, it feels like he's looking directly at me.
"Dr. Chandler deserves a public apology from Gregory Stallworth and anyone who questioned her integrity.
From me, for being the reason she was targeted in the first place.
" His voice roughens with emotion. "She is a brilliant researcher who was doing important work that could save lives.
That work was destroyed because of my association with her. "
He pulls out another document.
"I'm also releasing evidence that my relationship with Evangeline Ashford, daughter of Senator Richard Ashford, was arranged without our genuine consent.
Gregory orchestrated a series of public appearances designed to create the impression of a romantic relationship for political and publicity purposes.
Neither Miss Ashford nor I agreed to this arrangement. "
The camera pans. Platinum blonde Evangeline, who is in an impeccable navy suit, stands and approaches the podium. She’s still maintaining that polished beauty that comes from expensive stylists and generational wealth. But her blue eyes are steely with determination.
"My name is Evangeline Ashford," she says, voice clear and controlled.
"Everything Mr. Hawthorne said is accurate.
Mr. Stallworth arranged those appearances without consulting either of us beyond demanding our compliance.
We were manipulated into a relationship neither of us wanted for the sake of publicity and political leverage. "
She glances at Declan, something like solidarity passing between them.
"I'm making this statement today because I refuse to participate in these manipulations any longer. I'm also prepared to testify regarding Mr. Stallworth's illegal activities, including his fabrication of evidence against Dr. Chandler and his threats against Mr. Hawthorne's career and finances."
The press conference dissolves into chaos. Reporters shout questions. Cameras flash. Patricia steps to the microphone, her expression grim.
"We'll take limited questions"
"Mr. Hawthorne!" A reporter's voice cuts through. "Are you concerned about legal retaliation from Mr. Stallworth?"
Declan leans back toward the microphone.
"Gregory filed a lawsuit against me this morning.
Fifteen million in damages, claiming I breached our contract and engaged in financial fraud against him.
" A bitter smile touches his lips. "He's attempting to control the narrative by accusing me of the crimes he committed.
I expect he'll escalate further. I don't care.
The truth matters more than protecting myself. "
"What about your career?" another reporter shouts. "The league could suspend you!"
"They already have." Declan's voice is flat. "I received notification an hour ago. I'm suspended pending investigation into these allegations. My season is over. Possibly my career."
The room goes silent.
"I'm doing this anyway because some things matter more than hockey," he continues quietly. "Truth matters. Justice for people who've been hurt matters. Dr. Chandler's reputation matters."
His lawyer tries to pull him back from the microphone, but he resists for one more moment.
"That's all I have to say. Thank you."
He steps away from the podium. The lawyer attempts to field questions, but Declan is already walking toward the exit, security forming around him.
The footage cuts to reporters in the studio discussing what just happened. I can't hear them over the roaring in my ears.
Sloane closes my laptop.
"Breathe," she commands, her hands gripping my shoulders hard enough to hurt. "Ivy, breathe."
I suck in air, but it feels like drowning. My hands shake violently. The chemical scent of the lab suddenly feels suffocating.
"He just..." My voice won't work properly. I clear my throat. "He destroyed his career, his reputation. Everything."
“Do you understand what he just did?” she asks.
I nod.
"He just walked into a firestorm and burned his entire life down. For the truth…” Sloane has a far away look in her eyes. “For you"
By the time I’m at home that evening, my phone is exploding with notifications. The laptop Sloane closed keeps pinging with incoming emails. I open it.
My university email is flooded with messages from colleagues, the dean, researchers I've admired for years. Grant opportunities. Job offers. Apologies from people who avoided me during the investigation.
Social media notifications are exploding. I open Twitter and my breath catches.
#JusticeForIvyChandler is trending.
Thousands of tweets. Support from scientists, athletes, journalists. People share my research papers, demanding the university reinstate my work and calling for Gregory's arrest. In mere hours, Metropolitan University sends an email stating that I should return to working with the Raptors.
My professional reputation is being rebuilt in real-time.
Because Declan destroyed his own.
"No." The words barely make it past my throat. "What did he do? Why did you do it?”
My phone rings. Marcus's name flashes on the screen.
I answer. "Marcus?"
"Have you seen the news?" His voice sounds strained.
"Yes," I say weakly.
"Gregory’s filed a lawsuit against Declan. Fifteen million in damages. The league is launching an investigation. They've suspended Declan pending results."
The room tilts. I grip the cushion to stay upright.
"Why did he do that press conference?" The question sounds broken.
"Because he loves you and finally chose truth over safety." Marcus exhales shakily. “I told him to prove he loved you. To stop hiding and show everyone that he was willing to lose everything for the truth."
“His career is over."
"If the investigation clears him quickly enough, it won’t. But the damage is done either way." He pauses. "Riley just texted me. He's home alone. He sent her and Rowan away, saying he needed to face the consequences by himself."
Consequences.
The word echoes in my head with devastating finality. Images form in my mind.
Declan alone in his penthouse, suspended from the team he's dedicated his life to. He’s facing a fifteen-million-dollar lawsuit and watching his career implode on every news channel.
"But what if he resents me? What if his career is over and eventually he hates me for it."
"He won't. That's not who he is." Marcus exhales. "Look, my best friend lied to you. He manipulated and hurt you badly. You have every right to never speak to him again. But he just proved he's finally the man he should have been from the beginning. What you do with that information is up to you."
The call ends.
I stare at my phone, then at the laptop screen where news footage plays on repeat. Declan walking out of the press conference, security surrounding him as reporters swarm. His face is exhausted but strangely peaceful, like a man who's made peace with his choices even as they destroy him.
He looks free.
And utterly alone.
Another news alert appears on the screen:
“Metro Raptors Suspend Star Forward Pending Investigation. Stallworth Vows "Vigorous Legal Response.”
A follow-up:
“Senator Ashford's Office Releases Statement Distancing from Daughter's Claims.”
The fallout has been catastrophic and immediate.
I watch the press conference replay on loop and wonder if love is enough to bridge the gap between truth and trust.
If forgiveness is possible when the hurt runs this deep.
If I'm brave enough to try.