Damien's POV
Serena's question hangs in the air like a knife.
"Tell me you didn't sleep with her when she was underage."
I look at my daughter—my beautiful, heartbroken daughter—and see the same pain I felt when her mother died. The pain of losing someone you thought you knew.
"I didn't," I say firmly. "Ivy was twenty when we first kissed. Two months ago. Nothing happened before that."
"But you wanted it to." Serena's voice shakes. "That's what Marcus is saying. That you've been grooming her since she was nineteen. Since her dad died."
"That's a lie." Ivy steps forward, her voice stronger than I expect. "Serena, your dad didn't even know how I felt until tonight. I hid it from everyone, including him."
"Then how did this happen?" Serena waves her phone. "How did we go from you being my best friend to you sleeping with my father?"
"We haven't slept together," I say quietly.
Both women turn to stare at me.
"What?" Serena breathes.
"Ivy's still a virgin," I continue, ignoring the heat rising in Ivy's cheeks. "We've kissed. We've talked. But I haven't touched her that way because I wanted to wait. Because despite what everyone thinks, I actually respect her."
Serena sinks onto the front steps, her legs giving out. "I don't understand any of this."
I sit beside her, keeping space between us. "Let me explain. Please."
She doesn't look at me, but she doesn't leave either.
"Two months ago, Ivy came here upset," I begin. "Marcus had humiliated her at a dinner party. She was crying in the library, and I found her. We talked. Really talked. And for the first time in six years, since your mother died, I felt something."
Serena flinches at the mention of her mother.
"I know that hurts to hear," I say gently. "But it's the truth. I've been dead inside since we lost her. Going through the motions. Working. Being your dad. But not really living. Then Ivy looked at me with those eyes full of pain, and something inside me woke up."
"So you took advantage," Serena says bitterly.
"No. I sent her home. Told her to forget whatever she was feeling. Told myself I was imagining things." I run my hand through my hair. "But she kept coming back. And I kept finding excuses to be home when she visited you. And one night, three weeks later, I couldn't lie anymore. I told her how I felt. I asked if she wanted to try."
"She said yes," Ivy adds quietly from the doorway. "Because I've loved your dad for three years, Serena. Long before he ever looked at me that way."
Serena finally turns to face us both. "Three years? You've been in love with my dad since you were nineteen?"
"Since my father's funeral," Ivy whispers. "Your dad held me while I cried. He was kind when everyone else treated me like I was broken. And I fell in love with him. I couldn't help it."
"Did you ever actually care about me?" Serena's voice cracks. "Or was I just a way to be near him?"
"Don't." Ivy's voice is fierce. "Don't you dare. You're my best friend. You saved me when I had no one. Every moment we spent together was real. I would never use you like that."
"But you lied to me!"
"Because I was ashamed!" Ivy shouts back, tears streaming. "Because I knew it was wrong to want him! Because I thought if I just stayed quiet, the feelings would go away! But they didn't, Serena. They never did."
Silence falls.
A camera flash goes off from beyond the gates. The reporters are still there, watching. Waiting.
"This is insane," Serena mutters. "My life is a nightmare."
"I know," I say. "And I'm sorry. If I could go back and choose differently, I would. But I can't. And I won't lie to you anymore, Serena. I have feelings for Ivy. Real feelings. The kind I thought died with your mother."
Serena's face crumples. "You're really choosing her."
"I'm not choosing between you. I love you both. You're my daughter. Nothing will ever change that. But Ivy is—" I pause, searching for words. "She's my second chance. And I'm selfish enough to want it."
"Even though it destroys everything?" Serena demands.
"Even then."
She stares at me like I'm a stranger. Then she stands abruptly. "I need time. I need to think. I can't be here right now."
"Where will you go?" I ask.
"Anywhere that's not here." She walks toward her car, then stops. Turns back. "Dad? If Marcus is lying about the underage thing, we need proof. Because he's on every news channel saying you've been sleeping with her since she was seventeen. He has fake texts. Fake witnesses. He's building a case."
My blood turns to ice. "What?"
"He's trying to get you arrested," Serena says flatly. "And if you can't prove he's lying, they might actually do it."
She drives away.
Ivy grabs my arm. "Damien, if they arrest you—"
"They won't," I say, but my mind is already racing. Marcus is smarter than I thought. More dangerous.
My phone rings. Elena.
"Turn on Channel Seven," she says without greeting. "Now."
I pull out my phone and stream the channel. My stomach drops.
Marcus sits across from a famous reporter, looking earnest and heartbroken.
"I tried to save her," he's saying. "But Damien Cross had his hooks in deep. I have messages from Ivy talking about him when she was still in high school. I have testimony from people who saw them together at her eighteenth birthday party."
"You're saying this relationship began when Miss Monroe was still a minor?" the reporter asks.
"I'm saying Damien Cross is a predator who targeted my girlfriend when she was vulnerable and young," Marcus says. "And I have proof."
The screen shows text messages. My name. Ivy's name. Dates that would put her at seventeen.
They're fake. They have to be fake.
But they look real.
"This is bad," Elena says through the phone. "They're calling for an investigation. The police are getting involved."
"It's all lies," I say.
"I know that. You know that. But can you prove it?"
I look at Ivy. Her face is white. Terrified.
"We need a lawyer," I say. "The best one available."
"Already on it," Elena replies. "But Damien? Until this blows over, you need to stay away from Ivy. If they catch you together, it makes their case stronger."
"No," Ivy says immediately. "No, I'm not leaving him."
"Ivy—" Elena starts.
"I said no!" Ivy grabs the phone from my hand. "Elena, I don't care what they say. I don't care what they threaten. Damien didn't do anything wrong, and I'm not abandoning him."
"They'll destroy you both," Elena warns.
"Let them try," Ivy says fiercely.
She hangs up.
We stand in the doorway, surrounded by cameras and lies and a world determined to tear us apart.
"I need to tell you something," I say quietly. "Before this gets worse."
Ivy looks up at me. "What?"
"I lied earlier. About one thing."
Her face goes pale. "What did you lie about?"
"When I said I only started feeling something two months ago." I cup her face gently. "I lied. I've wanted you for over a year, Ivy. Since you turned twenty-one and I couldn't pretend you were a kid anymore. I fought it. Hated myself for it. But it was there."
"You've wanted me for a year?" she breathes.
"Longer, maybe. I don't know when it started. Just that once I noticed, I couldn't stop." I press my forehead to hers. "So if they want to call me a predator for wanting you, fine. But I didn't act on it. Not until you were old enough. Not until I knew you wanted me too."
Tears stream down her face. "I don't care when it started. I just care that it's real."
"It's real," I promise. "More real than anything I've felt in years."
She kisses me. Desperate. Clinging.
Camera flashes explode beyond the gates.
We break apart, breathing hard.
My phone buzzes.
A text from an unknown number: Check your email. Now.
I open my email with shaking hands.
The subject line reads: Evidence You'll Want to See.
Inside is a video file.
I press play.
It's security footage. From this house. From the library. From tonight.
Showing Ivy on the couch. Alone. Touching herself.
"Oh God," Ivy whispers, seeing the screen. "Someone was recording."
But that's not the worst part.
The timestamp shows the video was recorded an hour before I got home.
Which means someone broke into my house. Planted cameras. Recorded Ivy without her knowledge.
And now they have footage they can use to destroy us both.
The email continues: Tomorrow at noon, this video goes public. Unless you pay $5 million by midnight tonight. Instructions to follow.
Ivy's face has gone gray. "Someone's blackmailing us."
"Not someone," I say, my voice deadly cold. "Marcus."
My phone rings again.
This time it's a number I don't recognize, but I answer anyway.
"Hello, Damien." Marcus's voice is smooth as silk. "Did you get my gift?"
"You broke into my house."
"Prove it." He laughs. "Tick tock. Midnight's coming fast. And trust me, you don't want that video going public. The internet will have a field day watching innocent little Ivy pleasure herself while moaning your name."
The line goes dead.
Ivy sinks to the floor, shaking. "He's going to ruin me. He's going to ruin us both."
I kneel beside her, pulling her into my arms. "No. He's not."
"How can you stop him?"
I look toward the gates. The reporters. The cameras. The world waiting to watch us burn.
Then I smile.
"Because Marcus just made a fatal mistake," I say softly. "He threatened what's mine. And I don't lose, Ivy. Not ever."
I pull out my phone and make a call I swore I'd never make again.
It rings twice.
"Cross." The voice on the other end is sharp. Cold. Dangerous. "It's been a long time."
"I need your help," I say. "And I need it now."
"This must be serious. You swore you'd never call me again."
"It's life or death."
A pause. "Who do you need eliminated?"
Ivy's eyes go wide.
"Not eliminated," I say. "Destroyed. I need someone destroyed so thoroughly they never recover."
"Name."
"Marcus Chen. And I need it done by midnight."
The man on the phone laughs. "That only gives me six hours."
"Can you do it?"
Another pause. "For you? And for the price we discussed ten years ago?" His voice drops. "Yes. I can do it. But Damien? After this, we're even. The debt is paid."
"Agreed."
I hang up.
Ivy stares at me. "Who was that?"
"Someone from my past," I say quietly. "Someone I hoped I'd never need again."
"What's he going to do?"
I look at her. This beautiful, brave woman who's standing by me even as the world tries to tear us apart.
"Whatever it takes," I say. "Whatever it takes to keep you safe."