That scared her. She had learned long ago that terror could become calm if it got deep enough.
Victor laughed.
“Still bossy. Your mother used to look at me with that same little fire before she learned better.”
Ronan stepped closer, but Ivy held up one hand.
Not because she wanted his help.
Because she needed to hear.
“Where are my brothers?”
“At home. Well, your home for now. Cute place. Bad locks.”
Ivy’s knees almost buckled.
Lena moved as if to catch her, but Ivy stayed upright.
“If you touch them—”
“What? You’ll run again? Change your name again? Hide in another rich man’s house?”
Ronan’s face went still in a way that made Matteo quietly signal two guards.
Victor continued, enjoying himself.
“You embarrassed important people tonight, Ivy. That was careless.”
“Vivienne sent you.”
A pause.
Then Victor chuckled.
“Miss Hale pays better than housekeeping.”
Ivy closed her eyes.
So it was true.
The wine cellar.
The envelope.
The disabled cameras.
Vivienne had not found Ivy’s past by accident. She had invited it back.
“What does she want?” Ivy asked.
“Oh, sweetheart. She wants what women like that always want. The world exactly as she left it.”
Noah shouted in the background.
“Don’t come here, Ivy!”
A hard sound followed.
Ivy’s breath stopped.
Ronan took the phone from her hand.
He did not ask.
He simply moved with terrifying calm and put the phone to his ear.
“This is Ronan Blackwood.”
The line went silent.
Even Victor Valez understood that name.
Ronan’s voice dropped.
“You are in an apartment with two minors. You have ten seconds to walk out.”
Victor recovered with a laugh.
“Big man. You think your name scares me?”
“No,” Ronan said. “The men outside the building should.”
Victor stopped laughing.
Matteo was already on another phone, speaking fast in Italian.
Ivy stared at Ronan.
“What men?”
Ronan did not look at her.
“I have security on the staff housing registry.”
“I don’t live in staff housing.”
“No,” Matteo said quietly, still holding his phone. “But payroll had your emergency address.”
Ivy’s face went white.
“You used my private information?”
Ronan finally looked at her.
“To send help.”
“That doesn’t make it yours.”
The truth of that landed between them, complicated and sharp.
Before Ronan could answer, Victor spoke again. His voice had changed.
“You send people after me, Blackwood, and everyone learns what Ivy did to Mrs. Graves.”
Ronan smiled without warmth.
“Everyone already heard your threat. You are on speaker.”
Victor cursed.
Ivy’s phone crackled.
A door slammed.
Noah shouted again, this time farther away.
Then another voice came on the line.
Young. Breathless.
“Ivy?”
“Noah!”
“We’re okay. These huge guys just came in and Victor ran out the fire escape. Eli’s okay. I’m okay. He broke the TV, but we’re okay.”
Ivy covered her mouth.
Her fourteen-year-old brother Eli yelled in the background, “Tell Ivy I hit him with a math book!”
Despite everything, Ivy let out a broken laugh.
Then she cried.
Not gracefully. Not silently. She bent forward like the sound had been punched out of her.
Lena wrapped her arms around her carefully.
Ronan stood there, phone still in hand, looking as if he would burn the city down and then ask Ivy whether she preferred the ashes swept left or right.
When Ivy could breathe again, she wiped her face with the back of her hand.
“I need to go to them.”
Ronan nodded. “I’ll take you.”
“No.”
“Ivy—”
“No,” she repeated. “You don’t get to step into my life and take over because you feel guilty.”
His jaw tightened.
“I’m not trying to take over.”
“You sent men to my apartment.”
“To protect your brothers.”
“And what happens when your enemies follow? What happens when your name makes our lives more dangerous than Victor ever did?”
Ronan said nothing.
That silence was the first honest answer.
Because he knew she was right.
Matteo ended his call.
“Boss, we have Valez’s vehicle heading south. My men can intercept.”
“No,” Ronan said.
Matteo blinked.
“No?”
Ronan looked at Ivy.
“Not unless Miss Lancaster asks.”
Matteo’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
Ivy did not miss it. Men in Ronan’s world were not used to him asking permission.
She should have felt relieved.
Instead, she felt exhausted.
“I want police,” she said.
A few guards exchanged glances.
Ronan did not.
“Then police.”
Matteo hesitated. “Boss—”
“Call Detective Grayson.”
Matteo’s mouth closed.
“Yes.”
Ivy studied Ronan’s face.
“You have a detective on command?”
“I have a detective who owes me nothing and dislikes me enough to be useful.”
That almost sounded like a joke.
Almost.
