Ivy's POV
"We need to talk."
Damien's words hang in the air like a death sentence.
Serena is still frozen in the doorway, her face cycling through emotions so fast I can't track them. Shock. Betrayal. Disgust. Horror.
"Talk?" Her voice comes out strangled. "Talk about what, exactly? About why my best friend is in our house at two in the morning with my father? About why you both look like—" She stops, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh my God. Oh my God, this is real."
"Serena, please—" I start, but she cuts me off.
"Don't. Don't you dare." She backs away from us like we're poisonous. "How long? How long has this been going on?"
"Nothing's going on," Damien says calmly, but his hand is still on my lower back. Protective. Possessive. "Ivy came here tonight because something happened at her party. She was upset and needed somewhere safe."
"Safe?" Serena laughs, but it sounds hysterical. "She needed somewhere safe, so she came to you? In the middle of the night? And you just happened to be here instead of Singapore?"
"My flight was cancelled—"
"I don't care about your flight!" Serena's yelling now, tears streaming down her face. "I care about why you're both lying to me! I care about what Marcus told me when he called!"
My blood turns to ice. "Marcus called you?"
"Oh, he did more than call." Serena pulls out her phone with shaking hands. "He sent me videos. From the party. Videos of him reading your journal, Ivy. Your journal about my father."
The room tilts.
"Serena," Damien's voice is sharp now. "Whatever Marcus showed you—"
"Stop protecting her!" Serena screams. "Just stop! You want to talk? Fine. Let's talk about how my best friend has been fantasizing about my dad for years. Let's talk about how she's been coming to our house, sitting at our table, sleeping in our guest room, all while thinking about—" She can't even finish the sentence.
"I never meant to hurt you," I whisper, but the words sound pathetic even to my own ears.
"You never meant to?" Serena's face crumples. "You wrote pages and pages about him, Ivy. Explicit, detailed pages. And then you stayed my friend. You looked me in the eye every single day and lied."
"I didn't lie—"
"You didn't tell the truth! Same thing!" She turns to Damien, her voice breaking. "And you. Did you know? Have you known this whole time?"
Damien doesn't answer immediately, and that hesitation is all the confirmation Serena needs.
"You did." She stumbles backward. "You knew she was obsessed with you, and you still let her around. You still—oh God, did you encourage it? Is that why you were always so nice to her? So protective?"
"That's enough." Damien's voice is steel now. "You're hurt and you're angry, and you have every right to be. But you're going to calm down and listen—"
"No!" Serena shouts. "I'm not calming down! I'm not listening! You want me to just accept that my father and my best friend—" She stops, covering her face with her hands. "I can't. I can't do this."
"Serena, please," I beg, moving toward her. "Let me explain—"
"Explain what?" She drops her hands, and the look she gives me is pure hatred. "Explain how you're in love with my dad? Explain how you've been using me to get close to him? Explain how every time you slept over, every time we had family dinners, you were just thinking about him?"
"That's not fair—"
"None of this is fair!" Serena's crying harder now. "You were supposed to be my best friend! You were supposed to be the one person I could trust! And instead, you've been—" She shakes her head. "I don't even know you. I don't know either of you."
My heart is breaking. Completely shattering. "Serena, I'm so sorry. I never wanted—"
"Everyone at that party saw those journal entries, Ivy. Everyone. Your mother. My grandparents. Our friends. They all know now." She wipes her tears angrily. "And the worst part? I defended you. When Marcus started reading, I thought he was lying. I thought there was no way my best friend would do something like that. I actually stood up and yelled at him to stop."
The guilt crashes over me like a wave. "I didn't know he had my journal. I didn't—"
"But you wrote it!" Serena screams. "You wrote every single word! You fantasized about my father and wrote it down like it was some romance novel!"
"Serena, that's enough." Damien moves between us, his body blocking me from his daughter's rage. "I understand you're upset, but you need to think about what you're saying—"
"Don't." Serena's voice drops to something cold and deadly. "Don't stand between me and her. Don't protect her over me. I'm your daughter."
"You are," Damien says quietly. "And I love you more than anything in this world. But Ivy came to me tonight broken and scared, and I'm not going to throw her out because you're angry."
Serena stares at him like she's never seen him before. "You're choosing her."
"I'm not choosing anyone—"
"Yes, you are!" Serena's voice cracks. "You're standing there, protecting her, defending her. You're choosing her over me."
"That's not what's happening here." Damien runs his hand through his hair, frustrated. "Ivy is a victim in this. Marcus violated her privacy and humiliated her publicly—"
"And what am I?" Serena demands. "What am I in all this? Just collateral damage? The daughter who has to watch her father fall for her best friend?"
The words hang in the air.
"Fall for?" I breathe.
Serena laughs bitterly. "Oh, you didn't know? You couldn't tell?" She looks at Damien, her face twisted with pain. "Tell her, Dad. Tell her how you look at her when she's not watching. Tell her how you always make sure she has her favorite tea when she visits. Tell her how you rearranged your schedule three times last month just to be home when she came over."
My heart stops.
Damien doesn't deny it.
"I knew," Serena whispers. "I've known for months that something was different. I just didn't want to believe it. I told myself I was imagining things. That my dad would never—" She breaks off, sobbing. "But I was right, wasn't I? You do have feelings for her."
"Serena—" Damien starts.
"Just answer the question!" she screams. "Do you have feelings for Ivy? Yes or no?"
The silence stretches.
Damien looks at me, then back at his daughter. When he speaks, his voice is quiet but firm. "Yes."
The word detonates like a bomb.
Serena makes a sound like she's been punched. "I can't—I can't be here. I can't look at either of you."
She turns and runs.
"Serena, wait!" I start after her, but Damien catches my arm.
"Let her go. She needs time."
"Time?" I stare at him in disbelief. "She just found out her father has feelings for her best friend! She needs more than time!"
"I know." His jaw is tight. "But following her right now will only make it worse."
We hear the front door slam. A car engine starts. Tires screech on the driveway.
And then silence.
Damien and I stand in the library, the weight of what just happened crushing down on us.
"Did you mean it?" I whisper. "What you said about having feelings for me?"
He turns to look at me, and the intensity in his eyes makes my breath catch. "Every word."
"But Serena—"
"Will hate us both for a while. Maybe forever." He cups my face gently. "But I'm done lying, Ivy. To her. To myself. To you. I have feelings for you. Strong feelings. And after tonight, after almost losing you, I can't pretend anymore."
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Then again. And again.
I pull it out with shaking hands.
Text after text after text, all from numbers I don't recognize:
Saw what happened at your party. You're disgusting.
Your best friend's DAD? Really?
How long have you been sleeping with him, you slut?
Does Serena know what a terrible friend you are?
My hands start shaking so hard I almost drop the phone.
"Ivy?" Damien takes it from me, his face darkening as he scrolls through the messages. "Who are these people?"
"I don't know. I don't—" My phone rings.
It's my mother.
I stare at it, terror flooding through me.
"Don't answer," Damien says.
But my finger hits accept before I can stop it.
"Ivy Monroe." My mother's voice is ice cold. "I just got a very interesting phone call from Serena Cross. She told me some disturbing things. Please tell me they're not true."
I can't speak. Can't breathe.
"Please tell me," my mother continues, her voice shaking with rage, "that you have not been lusting after a man twice your age. That you have not been fantasizing about your best friend's father. That you have not brought shame on this entire family."
"Mom—"
"Don't. I'm coming to get you right now. You're going to pack your things and come home, and we're going to figure out how to fix this disaster you've created."
"She's not going anywhere." Damien takes the phone from my frozen hand. "Mrs. Sterling, this is Damien Cross."
There's a pause. Then my mother's voice, sharp with accusation: "What is she doing with you right now? It's three in the morning!"
"Ivy came here because she was upset. I'm making sure she's safe."
"Safe?" My mother laughs harshly. "Safe from what? Safe from you? Because from what Serena told me, you're the problem!"
"With respect, you don't know what you're talking about."
"I know that my twenty-two-year-old daughter has been writing sexual fantasies about a forty-two-year-old man! I know that she's destroyed her friendship and humiliated herself publicly! I know that if you had any decency, you would have shut this down the moment you suspected!"
Damien's voice goes deadly quiet. "Are you finished?"
"Put Ivy on the phone. Now."
"No."
Silence.
Then my mother's voice, shaking with fury: "If you don't let me speak to my daughter right now, I'm calling the police."
"And telling them what? That two adults are having a conversation?"
"I'll tell them you're taking advantage of a vulnerable young woman. I'll tell them about the power imbalance. I'll make sure everyone knows what kind of man you really are."
My stomach drops.
"You can try," Damien says calmly. "But I have lawyers who will destroy any claim you make. Ivy is an adult. She came here of her own free will. And I'm not going to let you bully her anymore."
"Bully her?" My mother's voice rises. "I'm her mother! I'm trying to protect her from making the biggest mistake of her life!"
"By calling her disgusting? By making her feel ashamed for having feelings?" Damien's voice is sharp now. "That's not protection. That's abuse."
The line goes dead.
Damien hands me back my phone. "She'll call back."
"This is a nightmare," I whisper. "Everything's falling apart."
"I know." He pulls me into his arms, and I collapse against his chest. "But we'll get through it."
"How? Serena hates me. My mother hates me. Everyone at that party thinks I'm—"
My phone buzzes again.
This time it's a message from an unknown number with a video attached.
My hands shake as I open it.
It's footage from the party. Marcus reading my journal entries aloud, the room gasping, people pulling out their phones to record.
And underneath, a message: This is just the beginning. Everyone's going to know what kind of person you really are.
I look up at Damien, terror flooding through me.
"What do we do?"
His eyes are hard as steel. "We fight back."