Chapter 10:VICTOR’S WARNING

Ivy's POV

The night is a blur of anxious pacing and stolen looks at the secret safe. Marissa's words hang heavy in the air. Check his safe. The combination is 4-2-1-9.

I stand cold in front of the bookshelf, my hand shaking as I trace the edges of the secret panel. Every instinct tells me to stop, to wait for Griffin and demand answers, but a darker part of me the one fed by suspicion and fear says that I'll never get the truth from him.

Just as I'm about to pull the secret latch, a sharp knock at the door startles me. My heart leaps into my throat. It's nearly midnight who could it be at this hour? For a brief moment, I wonder if it's Marissa again, but the shape I see through the peephole is larger, wider.

Victor Kane.

I pause before opening the door, fear twisting in my stomach. Victor's grin meets me like a slap. He's perfectly dressed as always, his fitted suit and shiny shoes out of place against the setting of my poorly lit porch.

"Ivy," he says easily, his voice like silk laced with thorns. "We need to talk."

"It's late," I say, keeping my hand on the edge of the door. "Whatever it is, it can wait."

He leans easily against the doorframe, his smile never breaking. "I'm afraid it can't. You see, I've come to offer you a choice."

My heart quickens. "What kind of choice?"

"The kind that might just save your life."

His words send a chill down my spine. I look over my shoulder, half expecting Griffin to show, but the house is silent. Reluctantly, I step aside to let Victor in. He walks past me, his presence overwhelming the room as he scans it with the air of someone who already knows every secret it holds.

"You have two options, Ivy," he says, turning to face me. "You can continue to play the loyal wife, blissfully ignorant of what Griffin is involved in. Or you can open your eyes and see the man for who he is."

I cross my arms, trying to calm my voice. "And you're here to enlighten me, I suppose?"

"Something like that." He takes a seat on the edge of the couch, his look sharp. "Do you know why Marissa came back?"

My stomach knots. "Because she's manipulative and can't stay out of our lives."

Victor laughs a low, mirthless sound. "Oh, she's manipulative, all right. But she's also frightened. You see, Marissa knows things about Griffin things he'd rather keep buried."

"Like what?" I snap, my patience running thin. "If you have something to say, just say it."

He leans forward, his face hardening. "Did he ever tell you about Chicago?"

The word of Chicago feels like a punch to the gut. "What happened in Chicago?"

Victor's eyes shine with something between sorrow and satisfaction. "Let's just say Griffin made some powerful enemies. People who don't forgive or forget. And now, they're coming back."

"You're lying," I say, though the tremor in my voice betrays me.

"Am I?" He pulls a folded piece of paper from his pocket and puts it on the couch table. "This is a name. Look it up. And when you do, you'll start to understand just how deep Griffin's lies go."

I don't move. I don't even move. Victor stands, brushing imagined lint from his sleeve. "You're smart, Ivy. Smarter than he gives you credit for. But if you keep ignoring the warning signs, you'll end up collateral damage."

"Why are you telling me this?" I manage to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He stops at the door, his hand on the knob. "Because I've seen what happens to people who get too close to Griffin's world. And I'd hate to see you end up like the others."

With that, he's gone, leaving me alone with the paper and a thousand unsolved questions.

The next day, Griffin is more absent than ever. He leaves early, barely looking at me as he goes out the door. I spend hours looking at the paper Victor left, the name scrawled in bold, harsh letters:

Sebastian Rourke.

A quick look online shows the basics. Sebastian Rourke, a high-profile investor turned criminal, was accused of theft, fraud, and—most chillingly—orchestrating the disappearance of several reporters. His last known location? Chicago, three years ago.

My blood runs cold. Is this the enemy Victor warned me about? And what does Griffin have to do with him?

When Griffin returns that evening, I'm waiting in the living room, the anxiety sparking like static in the air.

"We need to talk," I say, standing as he comes in.

He stops, his face guarded. "About what?"

"Chicago. And Sebastian Rourke."

His response is instant. His face hardens, and his eyes narrow. "Where did you hear that name?"

"Does it matter?" I counter, moving closer. "What matters is that you've been hiding something from me. Something big. And I want to know the truth, Griffin. Now."

"Ivy, you don't understand," he starts, but I cut him off.

"Then make me understand!" My voice cracks, the weight of the past few days falling on me. "Because right now, all I see is a man who's been lying to me since the day we met."

His shoulders sag, and for a moment, he looks...defeated. "It's not that simple."

"Then explain it to me," I beg. "Tell me what happened in Chicago. Tell me who Sebastian Rourke is. Tell me why Marissa is so scared and why Victor is telling me to run."

Griffin rubs a hand over his face, his mouth tight. "I can't," he says eventually, his voice barely audible. "Not yet."

"Not yet?" I echo, my anger rising. "Do you even hear yourself? How am I supposed to trust you when you keep shutting me out?"

Before he can reply, his phone buzzes on the table. He looks at it, and his face changes to one of alarm. Without a word, he grabs his coat and starts for the door.

"Where are you going?" I demand, following him.

"Stay here," he says, his tone clipped. "I'll be back."

"Griffin!" I call after him, but the door slams shut, leaving me alone in the quiet.

The cliffhanger comes an hour later. I'm pacing the living room when a text message lights up Griffin's dumped phone. The message is short, but it chills me to my core:

Too late. She knows.

The sender's name? Sebastian Rourke.

My breath catches as I stare at the screen, the consequences sinking in. Griffin's lies aren't just his anymore. They've become mine, too. And whoever Sebastian Rourke is, he's watching and waiting.