Ivy's POV
"My father is dead," I repeat, my voice stronger this time. "He died three years ago in a car accident."
The man with the gun smiles like I've just told a funny joke. "That's what they wanted you to believe."
My legs go weak. Damien catches me before I fall, pulling me behind him, putting his body between me and the gun.
"Who are you?" Damien's voice is ice cold. "And what do you want?"
"My name is Victor. I work for someone very interested in Miss Monroe." The flashlight beam moves from me to Damien. "You've made things complicated, Mr. Cross. We were watching her, waiting for the right moment. Then you had to go and fall in love with her."
"Watching me?" My voice comes out as a whisper. "Why?"
"Because your father had something that belongs to my employer. And we believe you know where it is."
Nothing makes sense. My father was a businessman. Damien's partner. He died when his car went off a bridge during a rainstorm. The police said it was an accident.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I say.
Victor's smile fades. "Then we have a problem."
A gunshot explodes somewhere in the house. Shouting follows. David and his security team must have engaged the other intruders.
Damien uses the distraction to shove me toward the bookshelf. His fingers find the hidden panel. The panic room door swings open.
"Get inside," he orders.
"Not without you."
"Ivy, for once in your life, listen to me—"
Victor raises his gun. "Nobody's going anywhere."
But David appears from the shadows, tackling Victor from behind. They crash to the floor. The gun skids across the room.
"Run!" David shouts.
Damien grabs my hand and pulls me through the dark house. Behind us, I hear fighting, more gunshots, men yelling in languages I don't recognize.
We make it to the garage. Damien throws open his car door and pushes me inside.
"What about David? Your security team?"
"They're trained for this. We're not." He starts the engine, and the garage door begins to open.
That's when I see them. Two more men standing in the driveway, blocking our exit.
Damien doesn't slow down. He floors the gas pedal.
The men dive out of the way as we crash through, metal screaming against metal. The car fishtails onto the road, tires squealing.
"Are you okay?" Damien asks, checking me over while driving like a crazy person.
"I think so." My hands are shaking so hard I can barely buckle my seatbelt. "Damien, what is happening? Why would someone lie about my father being dead?"
"I don't know, but we're going to find out." He pulls out his phone, hands it to me. "Call Elena. Tell her to meet us at the safe house in Manhattan. The address is programmed under 'Sanctuary.'"
I make the call with trembling fingers. Elena answers on the first ring.
"We're being attacked," I blurt out. "Men with guns. They said something about Ivy's father being alive—"
"What?" Elena's voice sharpens. "Put Damien on."
I switch to speaker phone. Damien explains everything while weaving through traffic, constantly checking the mirrors.
"I'm calling the police," Elena says.
"No police." Damien's jaw is tight. "Not until we know who we can trust. If Ivy's father faked his death, there's corruption involved. Deep corruption. We don't know how far it reaches."
"Then what do you want me to do?"
"Get to the safe house. Bring everything you can find about Ivy's father—business records, the accident report, everything. We need answers."
He hangs up and takes my hand. "I need you to think very carefully. Did your father ever give you anything? A key, a password, a storage unit number? Anything unusual?"
I rack my brain, trying to remember. My father's death happened so fast. One day he was alive, teaching me to drive. The next day, police were at our door saying his car had gone off Hollow Bridge.
"There was a box," I say slowly. "After the funeral, his lawyer gave me a small metal box. My mother took it before I could open it. She said it was just old photos and business cards, nothing important."
"Where is it now?"
"I don't know. She probably threw it away or—" I stop. "Wait. No. I remember. She put it in storage with all of Dad's other things. She couldn't stand having his stuff in the house after she remarried."
"What storage facility?"
"SecureSpace on Maple Avenue. Unit 47. I have a key somewhere in my apartment."
Damien makes a sharp turn, heading toward my apartment instead of Manhattan.
"If these people know about the box, they'll go there," I say.
"Which is why we need to get there first."
My phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number: Tell Cross to stop running. We don't want to hurt you, Ivy. We just want what your father stole.
"They have my number." My voice cracks. "How do they have my number?"
"Marcus." Damien's knuckles are white on the steering wheel. "He gave them everything. Your number, your addresses, probably told them about us."
"Why would he do that?"
"Money. Fear. Revenge. Does it matter?" He glances at me. "I'm sorry, Ivy. I brought you into this. My life, my enemies—"
"Stop. This isn't about you. They said my father stole something. This is about me." A horrible thought occurs. "What if Marcus didn't just want to hurt us? What if he was working with them from the beginning?"
Damien's expression darkens. "The timing fits. He dated you for eight months. That's a long time to be gathering information."
"But why? What could my father possibly have that's worth all this?"
We pull up to my apartment building. Everything looks normal. Too normal.
"Stay close to me," Damien says, pulling a gun from the glove compartment.
"You have a gun?"
"I'm a billionaire, Ivy. Of course I have a gun." He checks the clip. "Now let's get that key and get out of here."
We take the stairs instead of the elevator. My apartment is on the fourth floor. Every shadow makes me jump. Every sound could be danger.
My door is slightly open.
Damien pushes me behind him again, gun raised. He nudges the door wider.
The apartment has been destroyed. Furniture overturned, drawers emptied, everything I own scattered across the floor.
"They've already been here," I whisper.
We search anyway. I find the key to the storage unit in my jewelry box, somehow overlooked in the chaos.
That's when I see it. A message written on my bathroom mirror in red lipstick:
Your father sends his love. And he wants to see you.
Below it, a phone number.
My hand shakes as I pull out my phone. Before Damien can stop me, I dial the number.
It rings once. Twice.
Then a voice I haven't heard in three years—a voice I thought I'd never hear again—answers.
"Hello, princess. I've missed you so much."
It's my father's voice.
My father, who's supposed to be dead.
"Dad?" I can barely breathe. "Is it really you?"
"It's me, Ivy. And I'm so sorry for everything. But I need you to listen very carefully. The people looking for you—they'll kill you to get to me. You need to give them what they want."
"What do they want?"
"The flash drive in the metal box. Give it to them, and they'll leave you alone."
"But why—"
"There's no time to explain. Just trust me. Give them the drive, destroy everything else in the box, and forget you ever had a father named James Monroe. Can you do that for me, princess?"
Tears stream down my face. "Where are you? Why did you leave us?"
"To protect you. Everything I did was to protect you." His voice breaks. "I love you, Ivy. Remember that. No matter what you hear about me, remember I love you."
The line goes dead.
I stand there, phone pressed to my ear, my entire world crumbling.
Damien gently takes the phone from my hand. "What did he say?"
Before I can answer, my phone buzzes again. A photo message.
It's my father, sitting in a dark room. He looks older, thinner, scared.
And behind him, barely visible in the shadows, stands Victor.
The message below the photo reads: Storage unit. One hour. Come alone, or daddy dies. Again.