Page 64 of Silver Fox's Secret Triplets
But I knew I wasn’t ready to give up yet.
26
DUNCAN
Isent Ivy an email at seven in the morning asking her to clear my schedule. I needed time to think, and seeing her first thing would only remind me of the pressure I was under.
The morning air felt crisp against my face as I walked through Boston Common, earbuds tucked into my ears but no music playing. The park was nearly empty—a few joggers, an elderly man feeding pigeons, a woman walking her golden retriever. I needed the quiet, needed the space to think without conference calls or board meetings demanding my attention.
The conversation with Bill replayed in my mind on an endless loop. His voice, raw with betrayal. The way he'd looked at me—not as a friend, but as a stranger who had violated his trust. I'd known this moment would come eventually, but knowing hadn't prepared me for the reality of it. Bill Whitmore had been more than a business partner over the years. He'd been the closest thing to family I'd allowed myself to have.
I remembered Ivy at nineteen, all fire and defiance, challenging me in ways that made my chest tighten. She'd been forbidden territory then, and I'd told myself that repeatedly. Bill's daughter. Off-limits. The promise I'd made to him hadbeen easy to give at the time—she was a teenager, and I was a man who'd already learned the hard way what happened when you crossed certain lines.
But then she'd come to me that night, not as a teenager but as a woman who knew exactly what she wanted. I'd tried to turn her away, tried to remind her of all the reasons it was a bad idea. The age gap. The scandal I'd barely survived years earlier. The headlines that had painted me as a predator when I was nothing more than a man who'd made a mistake with someone too young.
I'd told myself it was just one night. A mistake we could both move on from. I'd been wrong about that too.
The path curved around a small pond, and I watched a family of ducks glide across the surface. Three ducklings followed their mother in a perfect line, and the sight made my chest ache. My children. I had children I'd never known existed, and now they were caught in the middle of a mess I'd helped create.
My phone buzzed against my leg and I pulled it out to see that Nick's name appeared on the screen.
"Martinez."
"Duncan. How are we looking on the transition timeline?"
I stopped walking and stared at the water. "The paperwork is nearly finished."
"Good. I know you're eager to get this wrapped up. Any second thoughts?"
I closed my eyes. "I'm reconsidering."
"Reconsidering what?"
"The exit."
A pause. "Duncan, we've talked about this. You've been planning this for months. You said you were burned out, that you needed distance from the company."
"I know what I said."
"Then what's changed?"
Everything. My entire world had shifted in the span of a few days, and I wasn't sure I recognized the landscape anymore. "I'm not ready to discuss it."
"Look, I understand if you're having some last-minute jitters, but don't build your life on fantasy. You've been clear about wanting out, and the board is prepared to move forward with the transition."
"I said I'm reconsidering, not that I've made a decision."
"Just… be careful, all right? I've seen what happens when people make major life decisions based on emotions rather than logic."
I ended the call without responding and shoved the phone back into my pocket. Nick meant well, but he didn't understand the situation. He couldn't understand what it meant to discover you were a father, to realize that the woman you'd been trying to forget for four years was the mother of your children.
I walked another loop around the pond, then headed back to my car. The drive to Bill and Barbara's house took longer than usual—I found myself taking side streets, putting off the inevitable confrontation. When I finally pulled into their driveway, I sat in the car for several minutes, gathering the courage to face whatever waited inside.
Barbara answered the door, her face drawn but kind. She'd always been gracious, even in difficult circumstances. "Duncan. How are you?"
"I'm well, thank you. I was hoping to speak with Ivy."
Her expression softened with something that might have been sympathy. "Of course. But perhaps… would you mind if she joined you in your car? Bill is still quite upset, and I think it might be better for everyone if you had privacy."
