Page 54 of The Sexy Ex's Brother
There’s a camera over the door. I knock once. Then again. I press the buzzer. No answer. I knock a third time, harder, my hand flat against the wood like I could will it open. I wait. Thirty seconds. A minute. Still nothing.
I lean back, jaw tight, a familiar edge clawing at my chest. My mind flashes through every scenario, wrong address, wrong time, someone lied. What if I’m too late? What if she’s already gone?
I’m about to knock again when the door opens a crack. But it isn’t Ivy.
A man peers out, narrow eyes, wiry frame, suspicion etched deep into his face. “Can I help you?”
“I need to see Ivy,” I say, voice taut. “Please. I know she’s here.”
“Who are you?”
“Jack Wilson,” I reply.
His frown deepens. “She didn’t say anyone was coming.”
“She didn’t know I was coming,” I snap, trying to control the tremor in my voice. “Look, I don’t have time to explain. Just tell her I’m here.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.
I take a breath and call out, sharper now. “Ivy!”
The hallway swallows the sound. For a second, I hear nothing. Then…
“Jack?” Her voice. Distant. Closer. Footsteps.
And then she’s there, behind the man, eyes wide, wearing one of my old sweatshirts like it’s the only armor she has left.
“Let him in,” she says, already reaching past him.
He steps aside reluctantly. I step through the threshold, and she throws her arms around me. She’s alive. Cold. Pale. But in my arms.
"Jack," she whispers, voice breaking.
The hallway smells like old books and lemon cleaner, dimly lit by the kitchen behind her. I reach for her face, hands shaking. I kiss her forehead, her cheek, her mouth. It’s not careful. It’s not soft. It’s everything I’ve been holding back.
"You ran," I whisper, breath ragged.
"I thought it would keep you safe."
"You are what keeps me safe."
Tears catch in her lashes. “I thought if I stayed, he’d use me against you.”
“I nearly lost my mind,” I say, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
She leans in closer. “So did I.”
Footsteps approach from the back room. Dawson appears, clearing his throat. Ivy steps back, steadies herself.
“We’ve been working on the press drops, the legal handoffs,” she says. “Everything’s lined up.”
“Good. Because I’ve been working too.”
I lay it all out, Marcus Grant flipping with immunity. Vivian turning over internal memos. Marla resigning and providing a statement to the state attorney. Conrad Whitman investigating Derek’s financials and submitting documentation to federal authorities. Talia is ready to break the story. Then I pull out my phone, hit send.
“What was that?” Dawson asks.
“Final leak,” I say. “It goes live in sixty seconds.”
