"Hello," he growled into the phone.

"Kane?" came a familiar voice on the other end.

Winn frowned. "Who is this?"

"You do not have my number saved on your phone? Uh... you wound me." The teasing tone was unmistakable.

"Evans?" Winn straightened slightly, irritation flashing through his veins. "What the fuck? Why the hell are you calling me?"

"Calm down, hot head." Evans drawled.

"What do you want, Evans? You’ve got five seconds before I hang up."

"Kane, take your head out of your ass for a minute and give me a time to come talk to you in person."

"The next time you call me, I will be shoving your phone up your ass. House of Kane doesn’t need you." Winn hissed into the receiver, his tone as sharp as broken glass before he ended the call with a swipe that nearly cracked the phone screen. Evans always had that effect on him.

He shoved the phone aside, leaned back in his chair, and rubbed the tension from his jaw.

He didn’t have time for Evans’s games. Not today. In exactly one hour, he had to sit through the reading of the will. His grandfather’s last act of love from beyond the grave, and possibly the only thing standing between him and financial ruin.

He hoped—prayed to everything holy—that whatever Gramps left him would be enough to drag his empire back from the flames.

Then there was her.

Sharona. His wife. She had agreed—grudgingly—to leave his house once the will was read. That had been their arrangement. But every minute she spent under his roof was torture.

Every time he looked at her, he saw the wrong woman.

Ivy.

Ivy, with her soft laughter and fierce heart. Ivy, who’d once looked at him as if he was worth saving. Sharona and Ivy were nothing alike—night and sunlight, venom and honey. Sharona’s beauty was sharp, calculated, weaponized. Ivy’s was accidental, effortless, a truth he hadn’t been ready to lose.

And yet, he’d lost her.

His phone rang again, vibrating violently across the desk. Same number. Same goddamn persistence. Winn didn’t even hesitate this time. He pressed "end" and tossed the device into the drawer. "The piece of shit can go to hell," he muttered, shoving to his feet. He loosened his tie, exhaled hard, and poured himself a drink.

With the way he was going, he was going to become an alcoholic himself.

*****

"Keep trying!" Irene snapped.

"Babe...there is nothing more I can do. The man hates me." Evans leaned back in his chair. "I promised Ivy I’d bring him to her today. This... this isn’t my fault, Riri. Maybe you should talk to him." He gestured helplessly at the buzzing phone on his desk before snatching it up again and tossing it down in frustration.

Irene stood by the window, arms crossed. "He won’t listen to me either. He’ll just assume I’m calling on your behalf."

Evans groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I mean, it’s been four years already. Four damn years, Irene! When is he going to get over the fact that you chose me?" He leaned forward on the desk, eyes darting to catch hers. "It’s not like I stole you. The man acts like I burned down his kingdom."

Irene turned. "Winn holds grudges, Evans. He doesn’t forget things easily." She exhaled, frustration spilling into her tone. "You weren’t there to see how he grew up. The Kanes are raised to never lose. To never forgive. You cross them once, and you’re done."

Evans rose from his seat and walked toward her. "I didn’t do anything wrong," he said. "You did break up with him before we started dating, so what’s the big issue?" He brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek, the touch tender.

"He had his suspicions long before we broke up," Irene admitted.

Evans chuckled dryly, his grin returning. "Yeah, I admit it was quite obvious I liked you. The only person who didn’t know was you." He tapped her chin playfully, trying to lighten the mood. "Don’t act all shocked now."

"Evans, this isn’t funny."

"Relax, Riri," he said, sighing as he leaned against his desk again.

Irene’s gaze turned sharp, cutting through his humor. "You’re holding his fiancée. You’re keeping Ivy under your protection—against her wishes. And when Winn finds out that you of all people are the one shielding the woman he loves..." She paused, her lips curling in grim amusement.

"He’s going to hate you even more than he already does."

Evans stared at her for a moment, speechless, then scoffed. "So what? He already hates me. What’s he going to do—send me death threats in a gift basket?"

"You don’t get it," she said softly.

"Ri, I don’t give a fuck how he feels about me," Evans said, pacing the length of his office. "I’m doing this for Ivy. You don’t get it—she’s fragile right now. She’s hanging on by threads, and I’m afraid if I don’t get him to her, she’ll break down the damn walls and go find him herself." He dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.

"She doesn’t really comprehend that it’s not safe for her. Mary already called me this morning—said she’s been locked in her room since yesterday. She isn’t eating. She isn’t sleeping. She isn’t talking to anyone."

Irene crossed her arms. "Then go to House of Kane and see him in person," she said simply, as if she were telling him to pick up milk on his way home.

Evans turned to her, incredulous. "You do realize that the man will gut me alive before I can even say ’hello.’"

"Fine," she said, one brow arched. "If he throws you out, I’ll make it up to you."

Evans narrowed his eyes. "Make it up to me how?"

Irene smirked. "Use your imagination." She winked, that playful edge returning to her voice.

He groaned dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. "Uggghhhh, the things I do for the women in my life!" He shot her a glare. "I’m going to make you re-enact the first porn scene I find."