Evans pushed open the heavy glass doors of the hospital cafeteria. The place was quiet, a few weary nurses and doctors scattered among the tables, all lost in their own world of exhaustion and clipped routines. He spotted Mike at a corner table, hunched over a steaming cup of black coffee, laptop open.
He slid into the seat across from him, letting a sigh escape as he rubbed his temples. "So... what did you find?" he asked.
Mike didn’t look up from his laptop, only gesturing vaguely toward the screen. "Winn is having her followed," he said matter-of-factly. "He hired another PI friend of mine." He finally glanced at Evans, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I think he believes Miss Whyte will lead him straight to Ivy."
Evans leaned back, frowning. The thought made a hollow pit twist in his stomach. "Winn is still operating under the lie that Ivy got cold feet," he muttered.
"And he thinks she’ll reach out to Trish, that Miss Whyte is the key. But sothing bothers . Ivy said Trish was kidnapped. Why hasn’t she inford Winn? And why hasn’t Winn deduced that both events are related? It doesn’t make sense."
Mike shrugged, flipping open another tab on his laptop. "I don’t think Trish was ever kidnapped. The attackers only said it to manipulate Ivy. Classic intimidation tactic—threaten soone she cares about to get them to behave. We’ve seen it a hundred tis." He took a slow sip of coffee, eyes narrowing in thought.
Evans ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. "If that’s true... then Trish must be working with whoever hurt Ivy. She’s either complicit or being used as a pawn. Either way, she’s dangerous to the investigation."
"Could be," Mike replied, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. He tapped his fingers against the table rhythmically.
Evans let out a long, exasperated sigh. "Does that girl have anyone in her corner?"
Mike’s gaze softened slightly. "She has you," he said, "How’s Mary?"
Evans felt the tension in his chest tighten. "She’s out of surgery," he said, exhaling slowly. "The operation was a success, but there’s still months of therapy ahead."
"She still doesn’t recognize you?" Mike asked.
Evans shook his head slowly. "It’s... complicated. Sotis she does, sotis she doesn’t. I really don’t know how to feel. One minute, I feel relief that she’s alive and safe. The next, guilt gnaws at —because I wasn’t there when she needed soone. First, I bla my dad for cutting her out of our lives. But then... the path she chose instead of her family—it led to all of this."
He paused, swallowing hard as the mories pressed in. "A gambling husband, a pile of debt, a life of misery for her and her daughter. What the girl has been through... Jeez. She should be a princess. A life full of choices and freedom. And then you tell ... she was dancing on a pole to pay off her father’s debts and her mother’s bills?"
He shook his head, incredulous. "Why would Mary choose that kind of life? I don’t... I don’t understand."
Mike’s lips twitched. "Love," he said quietly, leaning forward. "Love makes us do stupid things. Sotis it’s worth it... sotis, it’s not."
Evans exhaled. "And now," he muttered, "I’m the asshole keeping Ivy from the Kane bastard. I swear, Mike... how long can I keep her safe if her heart is still with him? I feel like I’m holding her in a cage."
"I think it should just be until we find who wants to hurt her," he said. "Doesn’t have to be forever. You’re not keeping her from living her life. You’re keeping her alive. That’s different."
Evans let out a long sigh, finally letting so of the tension in his shoulders ease. He ran a hand across his face, brushing away the faint stubble that had grown over days of barely sleeping.
"You still looking for those n, right?" Evans asked.
"Yes, sir," Mike replied. "They’ll lead us to whoever orchestrated this, I’m sure of it."
Evans rubbed his temples and leaned back. "Good. No police," he muttered. "I don’t want the risk of exposing her."
Mike nodded once. "Understood, sir."
Evans hesitated before speaking again. "Mike, I know I’ve been an asshole to you for the past few years while we were searching for Mary... but thank you. You didn’t just do your job — you saved my niece. If you hadn’t figured it out..." His throat worked around the words.
"Just doing what you paid for, sir."
"Yeah, well..." Evans muttered. "You’ve earned more than your damn paycheck. We’ll pay the Trish girl a visit tonight."
Mike raised a brow. "You think she’ll talk?"
"Everyone talks. Eventually."
He walked out of the cafeteria and took the elevator. Security stood outside the VIP section. Evans gave them a curt nod before ducking into Mary’s room.
Machines humd quietly, keeping ti with her shallow breaths. He brushed a hand against her wrist and whispered, "Hang in there." Then he turned and left before the ache could settle too deep.
When he entered Ivy’s room, everything inside him froze. She was thrashing — caught in so nightmare that wouldn’t let her go. Her skin was slick with sweat, her breathing ragged.
"Fuck!" Evans rushed forward, his heart pounding. "Ivy! Ivy, co on! Wake up!"
But she didn’t hear him. Her hands clenched the sheets, her head tossing side to side, trapped sowhere dark and far away. Then he saw it — the red stain spreading fast beneath her. Blood.
"Damnit, Ivy!" He slamd the ergency call button.
Within seconds, the door burst open. The doctor and a swarm of nurses flooded the room.
"Step aside, Mr. Everest!" Doctor Stanton barked.
"What the hell is going on?" Evans demanded.
"It’s a nightmare," Stanton replied quickly, already moving to inject a clear liquid into the IV. "She must have thrashed hard enough to reopen her stitches. She’s lost so blood, but we’ll get her stable."
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