Page 88 of Saving Ian Pope

We finished catching up with each other, and then Chloe and I waited with Diego for his Uber. Once he sped off, I took Chloe’s keys and drove us home. We stayed up talking for a few more hours, which allowed me to kill more time until Ian woke up. By the time Chloe fell asleep on the sofa, and I retreated to my bedroom, it was still only six AM in England.

I’d left my Ian Pope pillow in LA—‘cuz I had the real thing—and now I hugged it to my chest as I lay on my bed. I couldn’t wait to be free of the sword hanging over my head. Once I had that flash drive and destroyed it, I could tell Jack to take his twenty-five grand and shove it and could tell Matt to take his blackmail and shove that, too.

I must’ve drifted off. My phone, which had slipped out of my hand, buzzed against my hip. I squinted at the glowing green numbers on my digital clock, and I jerked awake. It would be ten o’clock in the morning for Ian.

I felt for my phone, which had stopped vibrating, among the bedcovers. I untangled it from the sheets and brought it to my face. Jack, not Ian. I tapped on his text message and froze as I read his words: Ian knows

Chapter 29

IAN

I chucked Scruffy under the chin. He’d been looking for Ivy all over the house and finally decided to slump at my feet. “I feel ya, Scruffy, unironically.”

I scrolled through the text messages from Ivy since she’d left. I knew she landed safely and that she missed me. She didn’t text me again until this morning. I’m sorry. I love you. Short, to the point...and bollocks.

Jack must’ve clued her in that I’d discovered her scam. My thumb hovered over the option to block her number from my phone, but Scruffy whined, and I couldn’t go through with it...yet.

Instead, I rang up Jack. Hadn’t blocked him yet, either. When he picked up with a tentative hello, I said, “I ain’t forgiving you or hiring you back, but I already paid your salary for this month, and I want you to do something for me.”

“Anything, Ian, but don’t cut off Ivy. She doesn’t deserve it.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You still have contacts with a private investigator, right? You must have. I’m sure Ivy herself never told you her real name.”

“Th-that’s right. I have a guy.”

“Tell your bloke to get on this Matt Russo. Find out who he is to Ivy and anything else about him. I deserve to know who’s been working with Ivy to con me.”

“I’ll get on it.” Before I could end the call, Jack spoke very quickly. “Still good for the first interview in four days, right?”

Then I ended the call.

I had no intention of backing out on or missing any of my promo engagements for the release, but I’d let Jack sweat it out. My mind had been in total confusion since I found out Ivy had been taking money from me...and that her name wasn’t even Ivy. Who was she? Had she targeted me somehow? Was this a setup from the beginning?

How could it be? How could she have known I’d be at that book festival? I did know she was a real author. She had an author page on Amazon and everything, and she had real books listed there. That part wasn’t a lie. Ivy Chase was probably her penname, but Chloe and her neighbors all called her Ivy. Why would she change her name in real life?

What else had she faked? I knew now that she was just having me on when she pretended not to want me to pay for anything. I huffed out a breath as I sank my head in my hands, bracing my palms against my forehead. She couldn’t have faked loving me, could she? I’d never felt so seen, so understood, so cared for by someone.

My fingers curled into my scalp. “Mate, that’s probably her job.”

She was a fiction writer. She made up stories for a living and apparently had a side hustle of scamming people.

I did a good job of distracting myself for the rest of the afternoon. Had a silly facetime with Thea where she tried to teach me some Italian. Her bond with Jasper didn’t hit as hard this time. I was glad Thea’s mum had found her happiness, and I couldn’t complain about Jasper. Thea adored Jasper’s older daughter. Ivy had been right—about that.

She’d been right about so much. That’s why her betrayal hit so hard. Why kind of game had she been playing with me?

I dumped Scruffy off my lap and ran up to our room, taking the stairs two at a time. When I burst into our bedroom, I stood in the center of it, my gaze darting to every corner and surface as if I could find the answer to the mystery of Ivy in the stuff she’d left behind.

But the essence of her that lingered—her flowery scent, the echo of her laughter, the lipstick print of her kiss on the mirror she’d left me before she departed on her trip—brought me to my knees, leaving me more confused than ever.

When I recovered some sense of will, I staggered to my feet and rummaged through her drawers, checking for secret hiding places. I barreled into her closet, searching in pockets and snatching boxes from the shelves. I had no idea what I was looking for—maybe some sign of Maddie Russo.

Had she created Ivy Chase from her imagination, just like one of her characters? Did Ivy Chase even exist?

I tore down the stairs with Scruffy barking at my heels and made a beeline for Ivy’s office. She’d taken her laptop with her, but I sat at her desk and yanked open the drawers. Journals full of handwritten notes, printed charts with character traits filling the boxes, and sticky notes with names crowded the drawers. I grabbed one of the notebooks, hoping for insight into Ivy or Maddie, but she’d filled it with story ideas and phrases and half-written scenes and even single words. All make believe, all fiction—just like her.

My phone rang on the corner of the desk, and I didn’t even look up. I was done with business today, but Scruffy wanted me to answer it.

“Stop yer yapping.” I pulled my phone toward me and froze when I saw Tinkerbell on the screen. She was ringing me? My thumb hovered over the display. If I talked to her now in this state, she could tell me anything, and I’d be begging her to come back and giving her even more money to do it. I had to get a grip.

---