Page 60 of Fractured Loyalties
Twenty-Four
IVY
I haveno idea what is happening, but if Roman’s face is any guide, it’s not good. This is the first time I’ve ever been in my stepfather’s office, and as he barks at us to sit, I’m already hoping it’s the last.
Roman sits in the chair next to me, both of us facing Robert’s desk. His eyes are locked on the floor, his jaw flexing. The air is a pressure chamber, and all of the rage I felt toward him is now morphing into pure fear.
But I still fucking hate Roman for this.
Robert sits, steeples his fingers, and then looks at us with the kind of calm they say murderers have before they cut your throat.
“Your mother is in Paris,” he articulates. “However, despite her absence, she’s been made aware of the current…situation.”
Oh my God. They know. They freaking know.
Robert sighs, just once, then continues. “I suppose I should be angry about what I have been made aware of. I suppose I should shout or hit something, but frankly, I’m just…disgusted.”
“That’s really rich?—”
He taps the paper in front of him, cutting Roman off, and I stupidly wonder if he has the same URL that I got. “Youtwo have managed to achieve, in record time, what the last three generations of Woods have failed to do—to make us a laughingstock. Do you understand what you’ve done?”
Roman says nothing, and I hate it. I want to will him to make a joke, to do anything to cut the cold. But his face is carved from wax, his lips pressed together so tightly they’re white.
“Irena is mortified. But she’s nothing compared to the amount of cleanup I’ll have to do.” His gaze flicks over to me and lands hard. “That tape has been viewed over twenty-three thousand times. Your face is the only one visible,Ivy.”
The heat crawls up my neck, atomic. I want to tell him it wasn’t my idea, that Roman is the architect of all this, but I can’t speak. All I can do is squeeze my fingers harder.
Roman shifts in his chair, his voice coming out roughly. “I didn’t?—”
“Whether you posted it or not is immaterial,” Robert cuts him off coldly. “It exists and it is now viral. It will never, ever go away.” He sits back, exhaling slowly. “Roman, you are twenty-one. Ivy, you are eighteen. The legal side is thin ice but survivable. What isn’t survivable is the reputational fallout for the family.”
Roman rakes a hand through his dark hair. “It’s not…”
“You are the most talented disappointment I have ever produced, Roman. And I have produced several.”
The insult doesn’t even land. Roman’s face is unreadable.
Robert turns to me again, but speaks more softly. “Ivy. I’m not your father. I never pretended to be. But I am disappointed in you. Deeply.”
I nod. His words sting worse than anything my real father ever said to me. I’m shocked by the ache of wanting this man’s approval even as he dissects me.
Robert stands, his eyes still on me.
“You are to remain in your room. You will not leave the house until I have decided what to do with you. Edward has been instructed to remove all electronics. And you," he points at Roman, "are to leave this house, effectiveimmediately.”
The words hit like bullets, and the room becomes a grave.
Roman blinks, slowly, the only outward sign of any reaction. “What?”
“You heard me,” Robert says, his expression cold. “Pack your shit and go. Do not contact Ivy. Do not set foot on the property. As of now, you are disinherited. Legally, you are my son. In reality, you are nothing. I’m sure Nico will find a room for you.”
“Fuck you,” Roman growls, but Robert ignores it.
He turns to me instead. “Ivy, you are not to contact Roman. If you do, I’ll know.” The cold promise in his voice is terrifying. “You are not to speak to anyone about this. Irena will handle your college acceptance. You are to finish the semester with minimal incidents.”
I finally managed to speak. “What about school? The tape?—”
Robert interrupts. “The Woods Foundation will take care of the school. You will graduate. You will never speak of this again. Understood?”
