Page 49 of The Sexy Ex's Brother
But I don’t believe it. My skin prickles. The room feels colder somehow. Like the moment you realize you’re not alone, even when no one’s in sight.
Rosenthal scrubs through the last ten seconds of footage. “He knew where the cameras were. Angled himself just out of range. That wasn’t an accident.”
My throat is dry. “You think he disabled the feed?”
“No. I think he wanted us to know he could.”
Outside, the city hums like business as usual. Horns, footsteps, voices. But up here, the air feels tight. Contained.
I grip the edge of the desk until my knuckles ache. We’re not being paranoid. We’re being hunted. And now, the clock’s ticking. And yet, for one suspended moment, I don’t move. None of us do. The machines hum. The air conditioner kicks on like a warning sigh. I swear I can hear my pulse in my ears. Every instinct tells me to run. But I don’t. Because this isn’t over. Derek doesn’t know it yet, but we’ve already struck the match.
Let him watch. Let him wait. We’re not the ones who should be afraid. Not anymore. Not when the truth is finally on our side.
26
JACK
Ire-read her note this morning, even though I already know it by heart. Her tone calm, but I know the tremble beneath it. I can feel it. I can feel her. The last line burns:I love you.
It should ground me. Instead, it fuels everything I can’t contain. I haven’t slept. Barely eaten. The penthouse is silent except for the pacing of my own footsteps and the occasional buzz of my phone. Even the skyline feels different now, harsher somehow, like the city itself knows she’s not in it.
Ari calls.
“We got a hit,” he says when I answer. “A financial transfer from one of Derek's holding companies hit a flagged account in Zurich. Offshore, previously dormant. Tied to a shell corp Jack Sr. once used. Someone's ghosted the server, and not with our usual protocols.”
My pulse kicks. The air in the room thickens, the shadows lengthen around me like they’re closing in.
“Someone on the inside?”
“Or someone smarter than us. But whoever it is, they're not sloppy. They knew exactly what to bypass.”
I glance back toward the console table. Ivy didn’t say goodbye. That has to mean something. That has to be a thread I can still follow.
“Keep tracing it. Let me know the second you get more.”
I end the call and pull up the building’s security feed. Nothing. No Ivy. No movement. Just a city spinning forward without her. Even the familiar hum of the elevator feels wrong now, like the rhythm of my life has been thrown off. Then I scroll to a number I haven’t dialed in years. Marcus Grant.
He answers on the first ring. “Didn’t think I’d hear from you again.”
“I need a location. Ivy Stone. She disappeared two nights ago. No trail.”
“You looking to find her or protect her?”
“Both.”
“Give me several hours.”
I hang up. Grab my coat. My reflection in the hallway mirror is all jagged edges and bloodshot eyes. Good. Let Derek see what he’s made me become.
I slide into the back seat of the town car, door closing with a finality that feels earned. As the driver pulls away from the building, I send three messages, to the journalist Ivy trusts. To Ari. And to a name pulled from a file Ivy once showed me, a contact Rosenthal would recognize. This doesn’t end quietly. We go nuclear.
***
Before I head downtown, I stop by the café on 52nd. The one with the back booth and low lighting that makes everyone look like they’ve got something to hide. The kind of place built for secrets, for the kind of truths that can ruin lives.
Talia’s already there when I arrive. Coffee in hand, phone out, hair pulled into a knot that signals war. Her coat is drapedover the seat beside her like she’s not staying long, but she will. I slide into the booth across from her.
“This better be good,” she says, eyes scanning me like she’s already halfway through the story.
