Page 77 of His Orders

His bravado falters. I see it—the crack in the mask. He looks to me, desperation leaking through his teeth.

“You think this ends with me in cuffs?” he spits. “You think the city will let this happen? Do you know how many people still owe my family favors?”

“I think they’re tired of men like you,” I say. “And I think this city is ready to stop pretending your name buys you immunity.”

The cuffs click shut around his wrists.

He doesn’t go quietly. He throws every insult he can think of, snarls about Ivy, swears I’ll regret this. But none of it touches me. I am stone. And I am done.

I watch as the car door swings open and Daniel is shoved inside. His voice cuts off as the door slams shut, a final punctuation to a story that should have ended years ago.

Molina nods once at me, then turns to the rest of her team. She doesn’t need to say anything else. Her presence alone speaks volumes.

The car pulls away, taillights flaring briefly before disappearing around the corner.

31

IVY

It’s almost midnight when the front door clicks open.

I’m on the couch, surrounded by the quiet hum of the apartment and the shadows that have grown longer and stranger since he left earlier tonight. I haven’t moved in hours. I’ve just been here, folded into the corner of the sectional like I might disappear into it if I stay still enough. A mug of peppermint tea sits untouched on the coffee table. A half-folded pair of pajamas lies across my lap, forgotten. The city lights stretch out beyond the windows in long veins of gold, but I haven’t looked at them. I’ve only been listening for the sound of him coming home.

And now he has.

I hear the familiar drop of his keys into the ceramic bowl, the soft rustle of his coat as he peels it off. His footsteps are heavier than usual. Slower. Measured. When he rounds the corner into the living room, I see the exhaustion first—etched into the lines of his face, pulling at the corners of his mouth. He looks like he’s aged in a matter of hours, like he’s carrying something that cost him more than sleep.

I sit up straighter, heart pressing against my ribs. “Ethan?”

He nods once, barely, then sinks into the armchair across from me like he can’t hold his own weight anymore. His forearms rest on his knees, fingers steepled. For a while, he says nothing, just breathes. He looks down at the floor like there’s something there worth studying. I wait. I don’t rush him. Whatever this is, I can feel it approaching us both like a tide, and I know better than to break the silence too soon.

Then, finally, he lifts his eyes.

“He’s in custody.”

I exhale. It’s quiet, but it feels like it comes from somewhere beneath my lungs. The relief is not loud. It’s not even sharp. It’s slow and rippling, like warm water poured into something cold.

“How?” I ask, barely above a whisper.

“We built the case,” he says. “Piece by piece. Mason found the trail we needed. And tonight, he walked right into it.” He leans back slowly, like the memory alone hurts. “It’s airtight. Financial records. Medical fraud. Harassment. Surveillance. There are two other women with documented restraining orders. One of them has a private investigator’s full report tracing Daniel’s movements for over a year. Another whistleblower stepped forward. There’s even footage from one of the pharmaceutical trials he funded.”

The room feels too still.

“But there’s more,” he says, voice dipping lower. “There’s going to be a trial.”

I nod. Of course there is. A man like Daniel doesn’t just go away quietly. He has lawyers. Money. Influence tangled into places we still haven’t seen.

“And they’re asking me to testify,” I say, already knowing.

Ethan doesn’t answer right away. He watches me, eyes steady, the truth already waiting in his silence.

“Will it make a difference?” I ask.

“It could makethedifference.”

I shift on the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders, though I’m not cold. Not really. I’m just trying to hold myself together.

He leans forward again. “You’re not the only one, Ivy. You know that. He’s hurt others. Lied to them. Threatened them. He destroyed lives. But you…” His jaw works slightly, like the words are hard to shape. “You were the one he fixated on. You were the one he wanted to own. The messages. The threats. The surveillance footage. The baby. Everything leads back to you.”

---