"I’m really sorry, Joey," she said softly, part deflecting and also meaning it. "I know you and I haven’t spoken since the funeral."

"I don’t want to talk about that with you," Joey said curtly. The warmth that usually softened his voice was gone, replaced by a cool restraint that made Sylvia flinch despite herself. He was hurting and her apology had just rubbed at the wound.

"Okay," she said quietly, nodding in understanding. "I’ll see you around." She offered him a small, brittle smile and turned.

Reese was waiting by the car, standing straight as always, one hand on the door handle and the other tucked neatly behind his back. "Where to, ma’am?" he asked.

"Anywhere," Sylvia murmured as she slid into the backseat. "Just drive." She pressed her fingers to her temples, her pulse pounding beneath her skin.

The city stretched before them as Reese pulled out of the parking lot. Sylvia leaned her head against the window, watching her reflection shimmer in the glass.

"You okay?" Reese asked gently.

"I don’t know," she said after a long silence. "I just know that all my life, I’ve made one mistake after another... and I think recently, I finally made one I can’t come back from."

Reese’s gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, catching her reflection. "Have you talked with Mr. Kane about this?" he asked.

Sylvia laughed — a short, broken sound that didn’t reach her eyes. "I can’t," she said, staring out the window. "He’s the mistake I made."

Reese’s brows lifted slightly. "You mean how you were the one who inserted Sharona in his life?" he asked.

Sylvia’s lips trembled as she nodded. "Yeah... yes," she whispered, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

Reese’s eyes softened. "You need to trust that Mr. Kane is a smart man," he said. "A brilliant and well-guarded man. Of course, he has blinders on when it comes to people he loves — like you — but he’ll be fine."

"What do you mean like me?" she asked.

Reese chuckled. "I’ll take you home, Miss Kane," he said instead, shifting the car into a higher gear. The engine hummed low as they turned onto Fifth Avenue.

"Reese?" Sylvia pressed, leaning forward slightly. "Don’t brush me off. You started something — now finish it."

He hesitated, the muscle in his jaw tightening. "I don’t really think this is a conversation we should be having," he said finally, eyes fixed on the road.

"Then you shouldn’t have started it," Sylvia shot back, crossing her arms. There was a bite to her tone.

Reese exhaled, his hands tightening briefly on the steering wheel. "I apologise, Miss Kane."

"What did you mean?" she pressed again, quieter this time.

Reese sighed deeply. "I meant," he said slowly,

"that you know exactly how much he loves you — your brother. And you know how to use that. You always have. When you’re angry, when you want something, when you’re scared — you hide behind that love because you know he’ll always forgive you. You manipulate his love for you to suit your needs."

Sylvia’s mouth fell open, a sharp laugh breaking free before she could stop it. "You make me sound like a damn villain."

"I didn’t say you were evil," Reese replied calmly, glancing at her in the mirror. "I said you were clever. There’s a difference. But Miss Kane..." He hesitated. "You don’t need a brother who pampers you. You need a brother who disciplines you."

Sylvia scoffed, trying to mask the way her pulse spiked. "Yeah, like I don’t get that from my father already." She rolled her eyes, trying to play it off as sarcasm, but the bitterness bled through.

"Your father doesn’t discipline you," he said. "He attacks you. He doesn’t correct your mistakes — he feeds on them. He turns your guilt into control. There’s a difference."

Finally, she muttered, "Okay, Reese. Stop talking."

He smiled faintly, eyes on the road again. "Gladly."

"I’m sorry. Don’t do that. I didn’t mean it to sound harsh like that." Sylvia said softly, guilt pricking her voice.

Reese gave her a sideways glance but kept his focus on the road, one hand loosely draped over the wheel. "It didn’t," he murmured. "Just relax. I’ll get you home soon."

Sylvia turned her face toward the window. Her mind was loud even though the car was silent.

*****

When Trish arrived at the Everest mansion, she knew her visit wouldn’t end with smiles and tea. The estate looked serene under the late afternoon sun but the tension in her chest said otherwise. She clutched her purse.

"Ivy’s in the garden," a maid said when she arrived.

Trish followed in the direction the maid pointed. Ivy sat on a white wrought-iron bench surrounded by tulips, her face glowing in the light.

"Trish!" Ivy smiled when she saw her, eyes bright with delight. She stood a little slower than usual—still cautious from the healing—but hugged her friend tightly. "You came!"

Trish tried to match her energy, but her smile trembled. "You look incredible, Ivy. Wow... this place suits you."

Ivy laughed, brushing her hair back. She kept her demons private—tucking them neatly behind smiles, conversations, and bursts of laughter. Every chuckle was rehearsed, every smile a mask she wore for their sake. She didn’t want Evans—or anyone, really—to see how broken she still was. She had already caused enough worry.

She didn’t want to add guilt to their love.

But the truth was heavier than she let on. Some nights, the walls of her room seemed to close in on her, her reflection in the gilded mirror turning foreign. No amount of luxury could smother the memories. She could still feel the ghost of that man’s hands, the taste of terror on her tongue, the way her heart had screamed for Winn.

She still tried to recall the face of the man who violated her—those shadowed features that came to her only in nightmares. In dreams, he was clear. But every morning, when the sun slipped through the windows, his face evaporated. And she was left chasing shadows in her mind.