"Minimal discomfort," the doctor assured him. "She might be disoriented for a few hours. Just... keep things calm when she wakes. Familiar faces help."

Evans huffed out a short, humorless laugh. "You mean this face?" He pointed at his own, dark circles shadowing his eyes. "I’m sure she will scream at the sight of me beside her. We have complicated history."

"It will be fine, Mr. Everest."

As they worked, Evans backed up slightly, hands shoved in his pockets, watching the clear liquid slide into Ivy’s IV line. His stomach clenched. He’d been waiting for this moment for days, and now that it was here, he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t sure he ever would be.

When the doctor and nurses finished, Stanton gave him a quiet nod. "She’ll start to come around soon. Try to be gentle. She’s been through... a lot."

Evans’s throat worked. "Yeah," he said softly, gaze fixed on Ivy’s still form.

The door shut behind them, leaving Evans alone again with her—the hum of the machines filling the silence.

*****

Trish was escorted into Winn Kane’s office by Linda. The door clicked shut behind her.

She hadn’t heard much from anyone since the news of Diane’s death had spread through Manhattan’s high society and corporate circles. The tragedy had swallowed everyone whole. Trish had debated for three days whether to reach out, but she didn’t want to intrude. She and Winn didn’t have a personal relationship.

They weren’t friends, not really. Their connection was Ivy, and Ivy was... well, gone.

Winn wasn’t the kind of man whose life you just waltzed into. And now, seated behind his desk, he looked like a man trying to wrestle his emotions into submission.

She hadn’t heard from Sylvia either. It was as though the entire Kane circle had closed ranks around Joey—who was now a widower—and left everyone else out in the cold. Ivy’s absence was the unspoken ghost between them all.

"Trish!" Winn stood, his tall frame commanding yet weary. "I’m so glad you could make out time to come by."

Trish managed a small smile, adjusting the strap of her handbag as she crossed the room. "The way Reese said it, it didn’t really sound like I had much of a choice."

Winn chuckled faintly, gesturing toward the chair opposite him. "Yeah, Reese can be... persuasive. I’ll remind him to soften his tone when inviting guests."

She sat, crossing her legs, the soft rustle of her skirt filling the pause that followed.

"How’s Joey doing?" she asked finally.

Winn sighed, leaning back. "It’s tough," he admitted. "I can’t claim to understand what he’s going through. Losing a spouse..." He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "To death—it’s different. There’s no coming back from that."

Trish nodded slowly. She’d seen Joey’s name plastered across tabloids and online headlines, the public sympathy overwhelming. "And you?" she asked gently. "How are you holding up?"

"Me?" He looked at her, and for a moment she saw through the practiced calm of a man used to controlling narratives. "I’m functioning. That’s about it."

Winn’s hand trembled slightly as he pulled the necklace from around his neck — a simple gold chain. Dangling from it was Ivy’s engagement ring, catching the light that slanted through the blinds of his office. The sight alone was a sucker punch of memory. "Do you absolutely think Ivy got cold feet?" he asked.

The world kept spinning — but Winn’s had stopped the moment Ivy vanished.

Trish exhaled slowly, folding her hands on her lap, eyes darting toward the floor. "What else do you think could have happened?" she asked softly, trying to sound practical.

The man in front of her looked exhausted, haunted, unshaven, and dangerously close to shattering. "Sometimes people panic, Winn. Marriage can be—" she hesitated, "—terrifying. Even for people who love deeply."

"I may not have known Ivy for very long," Winn said, cutting her off gently. His eyes glistened from sleepless nights and too much whiskey. "We had a whirlwind of a courtship but she loved me." His hand curled around the ring. "I know she loved me. I do not believe this cold-feet spin."

"Winn..." Trish murmured, her chest tightening. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "I—I also want to believe that you are right. I do know she loved you. She has loved you for a while, even before she told you."

She swallowed hard, remembering the way Ivy used to talk about him — the way her voice softened. "But what else could have happened? She left me a note. She left her mother a note. She sent you a text. That sounds like a goodbye, Winn. A real one."

"Yeah, but I find it odd," he said sharply, leaning forward now, elbows on the table. "She left a note for her mother — and then came back to check her out of the hospital against doctor’s orders. That doesn’t sound like someone running away."

He rubbed his temples, frustration biting through his tone. "And don’t tell me that’s not strange."

Her heart twisted. "I don’t know what to say, Winn," she admitted. She wanted to offer comfort, to bridge that painful distance between denial and truth, but how could she? Everything he said made sense — and yet, the absence of Ivy’s voice, her laughter, her warmth — felt final.

"I’m saying," Winn muttered, straightening up and fixing her with a look that carried all the determination of a man ready to burn the world down, "that I’m going to look into this. I do not believe she left me. Unless she says it to my face, I am not buying it."

He closed his hand around the ring. "And if you do hear from her — anything — please let me know."

Trish nodded slowly, a sad smile touching her lips. "You really love her, don’t you?" she asked.

"That woman rewired me. She ruined me for anyone else." He leaned back, tipping his head toward the ceiling with a bitter chuckle. "So, yeah. Love doesn’t even begin to cover it."