Chapter 3 — A Game Played in Silk
The penthouse was quiet in a way that made Ivy uneasy. Silence had become something she distrusted. In Killian's world, quiet rarely meant peace. It meant something was shifting beneath the surface, something waiting to reveal itself when she was least prepared.
She stood before the mirror in her dressing room, staring at the reflection that still felt unfamiliar. The gown draped over her body was midnight blue, soft and elegant, chosen by someone else and delivered without explanation. Her hair was styled with careful precision. The diamond at her throat caught the light and scattered it across the walls.
She looked like she belonged.
She did not feel like she did.
A knock sounded.
"Come in."
Killian stepped inside, already dressed in a tailored black suit that fit him like armor. His gaze swept over her, assessing, calculating. He gave a small nod of approval.
"You'll accompany me tonight," he said.
"Where?"
"A charity gala."
Ivy blinked. "Another performance?"
"Everything is a performance."
His tone was matter of fact, leaving no room for argument. He moved toward her and adjusted the necklace at her collarbone. His fingers brushed her skin for only a second, but the contact sent a confusing warmth through her chest.
"Stay close," he added. "Tonight will require precision."
Her brows drew together. "Precision?"
"There are investors attending. Rivals. People who will be looking for weakness. They will look at you as a reflection of me."
Ivy met his eyes. "And if they find weakness?"
His voice lowered. "They won't."
The ride to the gala passed in quiet tension. City lights flickered across the windows as the car cut through traffic. Ivy watched them blur into streaks of color while her thoughts churned.
She wanted answers about her father.
About the ledger.
About why her name had become entangled in Killian's empire.
But every time she prepared to ask, something held her back. Instinct told her to move carefully. Killian valued control above all else. Pushing too hard might close doors she needed open.
The venue rose before them in shimmering glass and gold. Cameras flashed the moment they stepped out of the car. Killian's hand settled at her back, guiding her forward with effortless authority.
Inside, the air buzzed with conversation and clinking crystal. Ivy held her head high, mimicking the confidence she saw in everyone around her. She felt eyes on her, weighing, measuring.
A woman approached, smile polished and sharp.
"Mrs. Blackwood," she greeted. "I hear you've adapted remarkably well."
Ivy recognized Genevieve instantly.
"I learn quickly," Ivy replied.
Genevieve's gaze lingered, searching for cracks. "Let us hope your lessons include knowing when to step aside."
Killian appeared beside Ivy, presence cooling the interaction. "Genevieve."
She offered a graceful tilt of her head. "Enjoy the evening."
As she moved away, Ivy exhaled slowly.
"She wants something," Ivy murmured.
"Everyone does."
They continued through the crowd, exchanging greetings and measured pleasantries. Ivy observed the subtle negotiations happening beneath every conversation. Power shifted with tone, posture, silence.
Then she noticed Julian.
He stood near the bar, watching her.
Waiting.
Eventually he approached. "Mrs. Blackwood. A moment?"
Killian's jaw tightened. "Keep it brief."
Julian's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Tell me, do you enjoy this life?"
Ivy straightened. "Enjoyment isn't part of the contract."
His amusement flickered. "Honesty. Refreshing. But dangerous."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"Your father would have admired your composure."
Her heart stumbled. "You knew him?"
Julian's gaze sharpened. "Only through business records. His name carried weight once."
Ivy's pulse roared in her ears. "What does that mean?"
But Julian stepped back, composure restored. "Ask your husband."
He disappeared into the crowd before she could respond.
The rest of the night blurred. Conversations, laughter, champagne she barely tasted. Her thoughts remained locked on Julian's words.
Her father carried weight once.
What had he been involved in?
Back in the car, she turned to Killian. "Julian mentioned my father."
Killian went still.
"What did he say?"
"That his name carried weight."
Silence stretched.
Ivy's voice tightened. "I deserve answers."
Killian studied her for a long moment. "Your father was not as ordinary as you believe."
Her chest constricted. "Explain."
"He worked adjacent to financial networks connected to powerful individuals. Networks that later fractured."
"And the ledger?"
Killian's gaze shifted toward the passing city lights. "A record of obligations. Favors. Debts that cannot be erased."
Ivy felt cold. "Is my father listed?"
"Yes."
The word struck like a blow.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
His voice softened slightly. "Because knowledge changes people. I needed you focused on surviving first."
Anger and confusion tangled inside her. "You don't get to decide what I can handle."
Killian met her stare. "Perhaps not. But I decide what threatens this marriage."
They returned to the penthouse in strained quiet. Ivy stepped onto the balcony, needing air. The night wind brushed her skin, grounding her racing thoughts.
Her father's past.
The ledger.
Killian's control.
Nothing was simple anymore.
Behind her, the balcony door slid open. Killian approached slowly.
"You're stronger than I expected," he said.
She didn't turn. "I don't want to be strong. I want truth."
He stood beside her. Close, but not touching.
"You'll have it. In time."
Ivy looked out across the city lights and realized something important.
She was no longer just surviving inside Killian Blackwood's world.
She was becoming part of it.
And part of her was beginning to want more than escape.
She wanted power.