Page 20 of The Sexy Ex's Brother
I know Derek. He won’t stop until he’s humiliated everyone who ever doubted him. And Ivy? She’s always been his biggest threat. Because she left and because I’m the one she walked toward.
I head to the bar cart in the corner of my office and pour myself a drink, bourbon, neat. The burn of it going down is immediate, but it doesn’t steady me like I wish it would. I stare out the window for a long beat, watching the city flicker and pulse beneath the night sky. Then I throw on a hoodie, something dark and nondescript, and head for the elevator. As I descend, I dial another number.
“Reid? It’s Jack. I need a team to audit any Wilson Foundation servers, backups, or personal emails. Anything Derek could’ve touched. Assume everything’s a trap. Don’t leave any digital doors open.”
“You got it. Want me to involve Marla’s firm again?”
“Loop her in discreetly. She’s earned her place in this.”
As the doors open to the street, I’m already moving through options. One hand in the pocket of my jacket, the other mapping out the next forty-eight hours: Untangle Ivy. Silence Derek. Cut the last threads to my father.
I text Ari to double-check the security cams on the building. If Derek so much as looks in our direction again, I want footage. When I get back upstairs, I pause outside Ivy’s door. I don’t knock. I just rest my hand flat against the wood.
“I’m handling it,” I whisper.
And I will. Because she trusted me with the truth. And I won’t let her pay for it with silence. Not again.
Tomorrow, I’ll have Andrew draft paperwork to protect Ivy’s image legally and permanently. I’ll meet with a separate media contact and leak a trail of Derek’s financial threats, positioning it as a broader abuse of power. If he wants to wage war, I’ll make sure the battlefield is one he never expected. Because I’ve played his games before and this time, I’m playing to end them.
***
It’s later, closer to midnight, when I see the light still on beneath Ivy’s door. The hallway is dim. I knock once, then again, softer.
The door opens a crack, and she peers out. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and she’s wearing an oversized sweater that falls past her thighs. Her eyes are tired but alert, a flicker of surprise passing over them when she sees me.
“Hi,” I say. “Sorry, it’s late. But I wanted to ask you something.”
She shifts slightly, one foot stepping into the hallway. “Is everything okay?”
I nod. “Yes. No. Sort of. I just…” I exhale, then straighten. “There’s a gala at the end of the week. Wilson Foundation. It’s formal, a little tedious, but important for press and board optics. I need to attend.”
She leans against the doorframe, arms crossing slowly. “And?”
“And I want you there with me,” I say. “Not because it’s expected. Not for appearances. I just… want to walk in with you.”
She pushes the door open another inch, like she’s letting the conversation in piece by piece. “That’s not nothing, Jack. That’s not just a date or a favor.”
“I know.”
“You’re asking me to stand beside you in front of the people who watched us fall apart.”
“I am,” I say. “Because I don’t want to pretend anymore. Not about us. Not about what matters.”
She glances down, then back up. “They’ll talk. You know that, right? They’ll say I ran from one brother to the other. That this was some calculated move.”
“Let them,” I answer. “I’m done explaining our truth to people who profit from lies.”
She exhales. Her fingers tap once on the doorframe. “You make it sound simple.”
“It’s not simple. It’s honest.”
A beat of silence stretches. Then she murmurs, “Jack, he made me feel small in rooms full of people who smiled at me. That’s what he does. That’s how he wins. I don’t know if I’m ready to step back into that.”
“I know exactly who he is,” I say. “But you are not the girl he cheated on. And I’m not the man who watched it happen.”
Her eyes rise slowly to meet mine. “You still think we can walk in and change the story?”
“I don’t think it,” I say. “I know it.”
