chapter3

The door opened past midnight. Damian staggered inside, shirt wrinkled, the smell of alcohol clinging to him.

“Ivy,” he mumbled, reaching for me. “I came back… see? I came back to you.”

He pulled me close, his arms heavy, his breath hot against my neck.

“We will be fine. Just a little longer. Then everything will be ours.”

I stayed still. I let him hold me, let him believe I was comforted. My face did not move, and in the dark he could not see my eyes.

He whispered again, words slurred. “Ivy, forever.” But before I could respond, he fell asleep, his weight pressing down, his promises spilling empty in the air.

When morning came, sunlight cutting through the blinds, Damian acted as though the night had not happened. He hummed softly while making breakfast, as if this apartment was a home, not a stage.

Toast on a plate. Coffee in a cup. He placed them in front of me with that same practiced smile.

“Eat. You have to take care of yourself. I worry when you don’t.”

I lowered my eyes, nodded once, and picked up the fork. I tapped it against the plate, then set it down. “I am not hungry.”

He blinked, caught off guard. For a moment, his gaze sharpened, studying me as if searching for something hidden.

“Ivy… is something wrong?” he asked carefully.

I forced a small smile. “Just tired.”

His shoulders eased. He gave a quick laugh, shaking his head. “You worry too much. Rest today. I will handle everything.”

But as he turned away, I saw it—the brief flicker of doubt in his eyes, quickly buried under that polished smile.

He carried his coffee back to the kitchen, still humming. He did not notice me sliding the untouched plate into the trash, moving slowly so the sound would not reach him.

Back in the bedroom, I sat on the bed, staring at the wall. 97/100. The number burned in my mind. The comments. The laughter. The deal Selene spoke of.

I pressed my hands together until my knuckles whitened. On the surface, nothing showed. But inside, I was done waiting for miracles.

I unlocked my phone. For a long moment, I stared at the one number I had not dialed in years. Then I pressed it.

One ring. Two rings.

The voice on the other end was steady, clipped.

“Ivy.”

My throat tightened. “Ethan… I need your help.”

There was a pause. Then his reply, cold and firm.

“Come back. From now on, I will take care of everything.”

I closed my eyes. The tears I had held in front of Damian now ran free, silent and unstoppable.

In the kitchen, where I could not see, Damian stood frozen with the empty cup in his hand. His smile had slipped away.

For a long moment, he stared at the closed bedroom door, as if he knew something had shifted.

Then he set the cup down, straightened his shoulders, and forced that polished smile back onto his face—though no one was watching.