CHAPTER 8: SHADOWS IN PLAIN SIGHT
The penthouse was quiet when Ivy woke, but her mind was anything but.
She had spent half the night replaying every detail from the files. The timelines. The arguments. The missing funds her father had questioned. The possibility that his death had not been random.
That thought refused to loosen its grip.
She rose slowly, tying her hair back as sunlight spilled through the windows. The city looked peaceful from this height, distant and harmless. It was an illusion she was starting to recognize.
Downstairs, Mara was already preparing tea.
"Good morning," she greeted warmly.
"Morning," Ivy replied, settling at the table. "Is Killian home?"
"He left early. Meetings."
Ivy nodded, unsurprised.
She finished breakfast and returned upstairs, determined to revisit the files with fresh eyes. This time, she spread everything across the desk, arranging documents into categories. Dates. Names. Transactions.
Patterns.
She noticed something new.
Several financial entries were approved by executives whose signatures appeared repeatedly across different reports. One name stood out more than the others.
Julian Vane.
Her stomach tightened.
She remembered his smile at the gala. The way he had looked at her like he already knew something she didn't. She pulled another report closer.
There it was again.
Julian's authorization. Julian's department oversight.
And then a sudden stop in the records, shortly before her father's death.
Ivy leaned back, pulse racing.
The door opened without warning.
Killian stepped inside, removing his jacket.
"You reorganized everything."
She gestured toward the desk. "Julian approved multiple transactions my father flagged."
Killian's expression hardened slightly.
"Yes."
"Why didn't you say that before?"
He moved closer. "Because suspicion is not evidence."
Ivy folded her arms. "It's not nothing."
"No. It is not."
She studied him carefully. "Do you think he was involved?"
Killian's voice lowered. "Julian has made enemies through ambition and carelessness. That does not automatically make him a murderer."
Ivy sighed. "You're frustratingly calm about this."
"Emotion clouds judgment."
"Emotion also reminds us we're human."
Their eyes held for a moment longer than necessary.
Killian looked away first. "Get dressed. You're coming with me."
"To where?"
"A charity luncheon. Public appearance."
Ivy blinked. "So I'm back to playing the role."
"You never stopped."
An hour later, Ivy stepped into a high end restaurant filled with polished glass and soft conversation. Donors, investors, and social figures filled the room.
Killian's hand rested lightly against her back as they moved through introductions. She smiled when required. Listened. Responded.
But she observed more carefully now.
People watched Killian with respect. Some with caution. Others with calculation.
And then she saw Genevieve.
Standing near the bar, radiant and predatory as ever.
Genevieve approached before Ivy could turn away.
"Well," she said smoothly. "Look at you adapting."
Ivy maintained her composure. "Practice helps."
Genevieve's eyes glinted. "Tell me, have you asked him yet?"
Killian stepped closer. "Genevieve."
"Relax," she replied. "I'm simply curious."
Ivy met her gaze steadily. "I've started asking questions."
Genevieve smiled wider. "Good. Just be prepared for answers you won't like."
Before Ivy could respond, Genevieve drifted away, leaving tension behind her.
Killian's jaw tightened. "Ignore her."
"She keeps implying things."
"She enjoys destabilizing people."
Ivy tilted her head. "Does it work on you?"
"No."
She smiled faintly. "That's debatable."
The luncheon passed without incident, but Ivy remained unsettled.
That evening, they returned home under dimming skies.
As Ivy stepped out onto the balcony, the cool air wrapped around her shoulders. Killian joined her moments later.
"You handled today well," he said.
"High praise."
He glanced at her. "You are adapting faster than expected."
She rested her hands against the railing. "I'm not adapting. I'm surviving."
A quiet pause settled between them.
"Killian," she said softly. "If Julian was involved in something dangerous… why hasn't he been stopped?"
His gaze moved across the skyline.
"Because power protects people until proof removes that protection."
"And proof takes time."
"Yes."
She exhaled slowly. "I don't want revenge. I want truth."
Killian looked at her, something softer in his expression.
"That may be harder to obtain."
They stood there in silence, city lights flickering below.
For the first time since entering this arrangement, Ivy felt less like an accessory and more like a participant in something larger.
And somewhere beneath the tension, beneath the secrets, beneath the carefully constructed distance between them, something unfamiliar was forming.
Trust.
Fragile.
Unspoken.
And far from safe.
Ivy returned inside later that night, unaware that the questions she was asking were already drawing attention.
Elsewhere in the city, Julian Vane reviewed reports from sources paid to watch Blackwood Enterprises.
His lips curled slightly.
"So," he murmured. "The wife is digging."
He closed the folder.
"Let her."
The game was just beginning.