Ivy
It was Friday night when I finally asked.
We had just finished dinner. Lila was asleep, and the house had finally gone quiet. Damian sat on the edge of the couch, his shoulders bowed forward, phone in his hand but unread.
“You’re not here,” I said softly.
He didn’t move. Just exhaled.
“I mean, you’re physically here,” I continued. “But your mind… your heart… You’re somewhere else, Damian.”
He looked up at me, and for the first time in days, I saw the war behind his eyes.
“Ivy,” he said slowly. “They’re closing in.”
My chest tightened. “Who?”
“My family. The board. My father.” He rubbed his thumb over his palm. “I went back to work, and they gave me five days before they threatened me again. Five days before, they reminded me of what they could take.”
I swallowed hard. “What a
