Chapter Fifteen
887 Words
lawyers took three hours to review Isabel's envelope.
Three hours of sitting in Adrian's conference room, watching men in expensive suits flip through pages, whisper to each other, and occasionally glance at me like I was a bomb waiting to go off.
Pickles was at home. Ms. Vane was feeding him. I was here, drinking bad coffee, watching Adrian pace.
"Will you sit down?" I said.
"I can't sit."
"You've walked seventeen laps."
"You counted?"
"I'm nervous. Counting helps."
Adrian stopped. Looked at me. Something in his face softened—just a little, just enough.
"What if it's not enough?" he asked.
"Then we find something else."
"What if there's nothing else?"
I set down my coffee. Stood up. Walked over to him.
"Then we figure it out. Together. Like we said."
He closed his eyes. Leaned his forehead against mine.
"I don't deserve you."
"You keep saying that."
"Because I keep meaning it."
---
The lead lawyer—a woman named Chen with gray hair and a voice like gravel—finally looked up.
"It's enough."
Adrian's whole body went still. "Enough for what?"
"Enough to bury him." Chen spread the pages across the table. "We have proof of forgery. Proof of bribery. Proof of harassment. And proof that he orchestrated the break-in at Ms. Cole's mother's hospital room."
My stomach turned. "Break-in?"
Chen glanced at me. "You didn't know?"
"She didn't know," Adrian said quickly. "I didn't want to—"
"Know what?" My voice was sharp. "What didn't you want me to know?"
Adrian ran a hand through his hair. "Liam didn't just take pictures of your mother's room. He broke in. Went through her things. Stole her medical records."
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"He was looking for something to use against you," Adrian continued. "A pre-existing condition. A debt. Anything."
"And you didn't tell me?"
"I was going to. I was waiting for the right time."
"The right time?" I laughed, and it came out hollow. "My mother's privacy was violated. Her medical records were stolen. And you were waiting for the right time?"
"Ivy—"
"No." I stepped back. Held up my hands. "I need a minute."
I walked out of the conference room.
No one followed.
---
The bathroom was cold.
Marble floors. White lights. A mirror that showed me exactly how exhausted I looked.
I splashed water on my face. Breathed. Counted to ten. Then twenty. Then thirty.
A knock on the door.
"Ivy." Adrian's voice. Quiet. Careful. "Can I come in?"
"It's a bathroom. There are stalls."
"I meant emotionally."
I almost laughed. Almost.
"I'm not angry," I said.
"You should be."
"I am. But not at you." I opened the door. He was standing there, hands in his pockets, looking like a man awaiting sentencing. "I'm angry at Liam. I'm angry at the situation. I'm angry that my mother is sick and the world is unfair and none of this would have happened if I'd just said no to your stupid deal."
Adrian nodded slowly. "That's a lot of anger."
"I'm a lot of person."
"I know." He reached for my hand. "I like that about you."
I let him take it.
---
Chen had a plan.
"Press conference. Tomorrow, 10 AM. We release the evidence. We file charges. And we let Liam hang himself."
"And if he fights back?" Adrian asked.
"Then we fight harder." Chen looked at me. "Ms. Cole, you don't have to be there. This is going to get ugly."
"I know."
"You've already done more than enough."
"My mother always said if you start something, you finish it." I straightened my shoulders. "I'm finishing it."
Chen nodded. Respect, maybe. Or just approval.
"Then we'll see you tomorrow."
---
That night, Adrian made dinner.
Not pancakes this time. Pasta. Actual pasta, with sauce he'd made himself and garlic bread that was slightly burnt on the edges.
"You're getting better at this," I said.
"I had good motivation."
We ate on the balcony. The city glittered below. Pickles sat on Adrian's lap, which was new—he'd never been a lap cat before.
"He likes you," I said.
"Everyone likes me."
"Everyone tolerates you. Pickles likes you."
Adrian looked down at the cat. Scratched behind his ear. Pickles purred.
"What happens after tomorrow?" Adrian asked quietly. "After Liam is gone. After the press moves on. After everything goes back to normal."
"What's normal?"
"I don't know anymore." He looked at me. "But whatever it is, I want you in it."
My heart pounded.
"The contract ends in three weeks."
"Screw the contract."
"Adrian—"
"I'm not asking you to stay because I need a fiancée. I'm asking you to stay because I need you." He set down his fork. Turned to face me fully. "I love you, Ivy. Not because you're convenient. Not because you fit some role. Because you're stubborn and brave and you argue with me about everything and you make me want to be better."
Pickles jumped off his lap.
The city hummed below.
"I'm not easy to love," I said.
"I'm not easy to love either."
"So we're both difficult."
"Seems that way."
I reached over. Took his hand.
"Then I guess we're stuck with each other."
He smiled. Real. Full. Beautiful.
"Stuck sounds perfect."
- Writer
