"So," Winn said, glancing at her from the driver’s seat, "do you actually want to observe this tradition?"
Ivy turned toward him. He looked impossibly calm, his fingers resting loosely on the steering wheel. Somewhere between one heartbeat and the next, she wondered when exactly he had become her addiction. The thought scared her a little... but it also thrilled her.
"What was that? I didn’t hear you."
She rolled her eyes and shot him a look. "No!" she snapped, louder this time. The rıghtful source is 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝•𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾•𝘯𝘦𝘵
He grinned, triumphant. "Ooh, someone loves her some Winn Kane Junior."
Her jaw dropped. "Oh my god, you named it?"
His laughter filled the car. "Of course I did. You can’t just not name something that important."
"You can be such a child sometimes," she said.
"I didn’t have much of a childhood, so indulge me sometimes," he replied easily, still laughing as he stepped on the gas.
Ivy shook her head, biting her lip to hide her amusement. There were moments — ridiculous, sweet, fleeting moments — when she forgot the complicated future that lay waiting for them.
Hours later, the estate was quiet.
Anna had long gone to bed.
Sylvia stepped into the study, clutching a blanket around her shoulders. Her father sat by the fireplace, reading glasses perched low on his nose. He didn’t look up until she spoke.
He glanced up immediately, his face softening. "Yes, sweetheart?"
"I need to talk to you."
He closed his book, setting it aside, and gestured to the sofa opposite him. "Of course. Sit."
Sylvia obeyed, curling her legs beneath her. "I know I’ve said this before," she began, "but I can’t do this anymore."
Her father’s brows furrowed. "Do what?"
"Any of it," she said, exhaling hard. "The pretending. The scheming. I see how happy he is — how alive he looks when he’s with her. I can’t... I can’t break his heart like that." Her eyes shimmered in the firelight. "He doesn’t deserve it."
For a long moment, her father said nothing. Finally, he said quietly, "Sweetheart, your brother is just using that girl. There’s nothing to it."
"Is he? When was the last time you saw Winn laugh? I don’t mean the surface, polite sort of laughter. I mean the real kind. Listen," she continued softly, "I know you don’t care about him. Whatever you’re doing, I won’t ask you to stop." She took a shaky breath. "But I won’t help you either."
"I see," he said, "you don’t seem to care much about Joey anymore."
There it was. The trap.
Sylvia felt her stomach twist, but she didn’t look away. She had known he would bring up Joey. "I don’t care anymore," she said quietly. "I don’t. I love him — I will always love him — but I’ve come to terms with the fact that he’s not mine anymore."
Tom’s eyebrow lifted slightly, a flicker of disbelief in his eyes. "Fine," he said after a moment. "So let’s say he is available tomorrow. You still hold on to that resolve?"
"I’m done with dreaming, Dad. Joey moved on, and I finally have to do the same. Even if it hurts."
Tom leaned forward then, resting his elbows on his knees. "Sweetie," he said quietly, "I’m doing this for you. It may not seem like it right now."
"Cut the crap," Sylvia snapped. "This isn’t for me. Whatever it is you glimpsed in Grampa’s will is making you do this. Winn is in love, and clearly Ivy loves him too. I will not get in the way of that. And honestly?" She paused, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. "Helping you is making me a terrible person. I am becoming you. Every time I go along with one of your schemes, I feel myself turning into this version of you I loathe."
Tom exhaled slowly. "Okay," he said quietly. "Will you... will you at least stay friends with Sharona, then? I need you as a bridge between her and Winn. You are not hurting him."
"No. Sharona is as terrible as you are, if not worse?"
"I cannot do this by myself, Sylvia," Tom argued, leaning forward in his chair. "You are my daughter. Won’t you do something right for once? Something that actually matters?"
Sylvia felt her chest tighten. Her pulse spiked as anger and hurt wrestled inside her. "What is right about this?" she said. "What?" Her eyes blazed into his. "Tell me what’s right about tearing two people apart when all they feel for each other is... real. You know nothing about that. Nothing!"
Tom opened his mouth, but she didn’t let him speak. "I am done talking about this," she said firmly, and got up, stepping closer to the door. "You know where I stand."
She made for the door, grabbing the handle.
"Winn is not your brother," Tom finally said.
Sylvia froze mid-step, her body stiffening. She spun around, eyes wide with disbelief. "Oh my God! Dad! You will go this far? Jesus!" she shouted. Her fists clenched, then unclenched, her shoulders trembling with emotion. "I cannot even... fuck!" she finished.
She turned back to the door, breathing heavily, and slammed it.
Tom exhaled slowly. He was already calculating, thinking of ideas to help him get his way. But then he remembered something Sylvia mentioned. They were in love. Winn and Ivy. And a big smile crossed his lips. Well then, he would let them fall deeper in that love, and then he would use that love against them. But even then, he still needed Sylvia for his plan to work.
When they boarded the jet, the hum of quiet wealth surrounded them. A flight attendant offered champagne flutes, but Winn only nodded politely and took a seat while Ivy chose the window seat beside him. His usual confidence seemed to melt away the moment he sat down.
It took only a few minutes before the pilot’s voice came over the intercom announcing that they were cleared for take-off. Ivy noticed then — the way Winn’s posture changed, the subtle tightening of his jaw, the way his thumb tapped against his thigh as if keeping time with an invisible clock. She strapped in beside him, the seatbelt clicking softly, and her gaze flicked to his face.
Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.