"He couldn’t even deem to show up tonight to prove to these people that this partnership isn’t a bloody farce. What am I? His slave? His builder boy?"

"Smile, Winn, smile. You’ve been in the news too many times lately for all the wrong reasons," Joey said. He leaned in, lowering his voice. "Come on, man. The investors are watching. Try not to look like you’re planning to burn the place down."

"Fuck them all," he muttered, swirling his champagne as if it were a weapon.

"You yourself didn’t want Evans involved. He thought it might give you peace if you didn’t see his smug face at all, right?"

"And yet, he’s still managing to piss me off without even showing up."

"I’m serious, Winn. He kept his distance because he thought it would make things easier for you."

"I still don’t understand why he did it," Winn said after a moment. "That damned question gnaws at me, Joey. If it were me, I wouldn’t do it. Why did he partner with us?"

Joey shrugged. "Maybe Irene asked him for a favor. You guys did date for ten years, remember?"

"No," Winn said flatly. "I doubt it. That’s not it." His eyes narrowed as he stared out at the lit construction site with the crowd in it. "Everest saved this project for a reason. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but he’s playing a game. He’s always playing a game."

Joey sighed, rubbing his temples. "Let’s just begin work here on Monday, Winn. Don’t read too much into it. Besides, Evans isn’t the Everest benefitting from this project. I told you—it’s his sister."

"What is she then? Some snotty little princess who wouldn’t even grace us with her presence? I bet she’s just like her brother—condescending, pompous, and a thief."

Joey raised an eyebrow. "You sound personally offended by a woman you’ve never met."

At that moment, the low hum of polite chatter and champagne clinks was shattered by a sudden commotion erupting from the eastern boundary of the construction site.

Cameras flashed, and the murmurs swelled to gasps as the press surged toward the commotion. The spotlight operators, sensing where the real story was, swung their beams across the gravel and concrete toward the newcomers.

Winn straightened where he stood, his instincts kicking in before his reason could. His mind did a quick scan, cataloguing who was already present — investors, socialites, the mayor, the architect team — everyone accounted for.

So who the hell was causing a frenzy at his event?

Joey squinted toward the glowing commotion at the edge of the site. "Oh my fucking God!" Joey muttered, his jaw falling slack. "Is that... is that...?"

"Yes," Winn breathed. "Yes, she is."

The first blow was awe. She was there, stepping out into the lights.

Ivy.

His Ivy.

And holy hell, she had never looked better.

She moved with an ease that was hypnotic. Her hair caught the evening breeze. That smile — the one she wore at social gatherings, just enough warmth to disarm and just enough distance to make you crave more — that smile cut right through him.

Her hips swayed. The outfit screamed sophistication. Gone was the soft, hesitant girl he once knew. In her place was a woman forged in fire and kept whole by willpower alone.

Even from a distance, Winn could tell she had changed. There was no trace of innocence left in her. Her gaze was sharper. There was steel in her stance.

Joey nudged him, mouth half open. "Holy shit. That’s her, isn’t it?"

"Yeah."

"I thought she was—" Joey hesitated, searching for the right word.

"Gone," Winn finished for him. "Yeah. So did I."

She was here, standing across the gravel from him, laughing politely.

Joey’s eyes widened. "Wait, wait, wait. She came in Everest’s company car?"

"The bastard..." Winn muttered under his breath. His fingers tightened around the edge of his champagne flute until the glass trembled. Every nerve in his body buzzed with fury and disbelief. "That’s why he partnered with us," he continued.

"He was keeping her from me all this while. She’s his insider."

"No... that can’t be," Joey whispered, his usual easy composure gone, eyes wide as he followed Winn’s gaze. Both men stood there, silent witnesses to a vision that didn’t belong to this earth. Ivy was there, flanked by two tall bodyguards.

The cameras loved her instantly—flashing lights surrounded her as if she were the main act of a red-carpet premiere. The satin of her gown shimmered, hugging every dangerous curve of her body before cascading to the ground.

It was a dress made by a designer who clearly understood temptation—crafted for one woman, and one woman alone.

"She looks... breathtaking," Joey muttered, unable to tear his gaze away.

"Explain it to me, Joey. Explain why the woman I spent the last year searching for—the woman who left me at the altar without a damn word—the woman who knew every single detail about this project—is walking into my groundbreaking ceremony in an Everest-customised company car. Explain that to me."

"I mean... it’s Ivy, Winn," Joey said cautiously, glancing at him. "She’s incapable of anything treacherous. You know her. She wouldn’t..."

"People have constantly shocked me, Joey," Winn interrupted bitterly. His eyes were still locked on Ivy, now shaking hands with one of the reporters, her perfect social smile curving lips that used to tremble against his when she moaned his name.

"Even my own mother," he finished.

Winn took a long breath. He tugged at his suit jacket, straightened his cuffs—little motions that gave him a moment to gather the storm behind his expression.

Then, without another word, he downed what was left of his champagne, the fizz burning down his throat. He set the empty glass onto a passing waiter’s tray.

"Where are you going?" Joey asked quietly.

"To talk to her," Winn said simply. He swallowed hard. "I just need to talk to her."

Joey nearly choked on his champagne.

"Are you forgetting you’re still married, you idiot? The press have been sticking their cameras so deep up your marriage’s ass for a year now, they could tell the brand of your bedsheets. You want to walk up to your ex-fiancée in the middle of a high-profile event—an event you’re hosting, mind you—and say what exactly? ’Hi, I’m your former almost-husband, thanks for showing up with my rival’s logo on your damn car?’"