Finally—mercifully—the gates clicked open. Reese eased the car forward, the Maybach gliding across the gravel driveway. The mansion loomed ahead. Light poured from several windows.

As they rolled into the compound, Winn’s gaze flicked instinctively to the right—and his stomach sank.

There.

Parked neatly under the carport.

Evans’ car.

Of course.

"Fucking fantastic," Winn muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just what I needed."

Evans being here meant interference.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t make this even more difficult.

But knowing Evan?

He absolutely would.

He stepped into the Everest living area.

Evans was already waiting for him.

Standing in the center of the living room, arms crossed, shoulders squared.

Winn swallowed, forcing civility into his voice. "Hey."

"You are here for Ivy?"

"I’m here to take her out of here," Winn replied, taking two steps closer. "And I’m not letting her go until we have a proper conversation."

Evans held his stare for a long, assessing second.

Finally, he nodded toward the stairs. "Then you better hurry," he said. "Upstairs, second room on the left. My dad is at the back with my daughter and Irene. He won’t let you take her if she doesn’t want to go. So hurry before they get back in."

Winn blinked. He hadn’t expected cooperation. "Why are you helping me?"

"I’m not helping you," he said. "I’m helping her."

That... Winn respected.

Evans gestured toward the stairs. "Now go."

Winn didn’t waste another second. He shot up the staircase two steps at a time. He followed Evan’s directions—second room on the left—and didn’t bother knocking.

He pushed the door open.

Ivy’s bedroom was decorated in calming earth tones. A few stuffed animals sat near her pillows. Her open laptop glowed on her lap as she sat cross-legged on the bed.

When she looked up and saw him standing there—broad-shouldered, slightly breathless, intense—she gasped.

Her reaction was instant. She scrambled back, grabbing the sheet with both hands to cover herself because of the sheer nightgown she was wearing.

"What the hell, Winn?" Ivy hissed, cheeks flaming. "How did you get in here?"

"It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, Sugar. You promised me a talk. A talk I am getting."

Before she could process that dangerous glint in his eyes, he shrugged off his jacket.

"Winn," she warned, gripping the sheet tighter. "Don’t you dare—"

He dared.

With one quick step and zero hesitation, he approached the bed, hooked an arm under her knees, another around her waist, and hauled her up and over his shoulder.

"What the fuck are you doing? Winn!" Ivy shrieked, thumping his back with her fists.

Winn immediately tugged his jacket down over her thigh, covering her as best he could. "Relax," he said calmly, as if he wasn’t kidnapping a grown woman.

"I SWEAR TO GOD—PUT ME DOWN!"

"No."

And that was the end of the discussion, apparently.

He strolled out of the room, down the hallway, and toward the stairs—completely unfazed by the woman punching, kicking, and screaming on his shoulder. His steps were steady, confident.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, they found Evans waiting in the living room, leaning casually against the table.

Winn passed him without breaking stride.

Evans lifted a hand and gave Ivy a small, polite wave.

Ivy, panting, enraged, humiliated, and about ten seconds away from exploding, almost flipped him off. Almost. She settled for doing it mentally—aggressively, brightly, with extra glitter.

Evans hid a smile behind a sigh.

His agreement with Sylvia played in his mind.

Get Winn and Ivy back together and I’ll keep the baby safe.

He had promised her.

And he always kept his word.

His gaze drifted toward the hallway Winn had disappeared into, Ivy still shouting muffled threats into the back of Winn’s shirt.

People thought Sylvia was running from something when she moved to Canada. They were wrong.

She was protecting something.

Protecting someone.

Ivy’s baby.

Ivy and Winn’s baby.

The child Ivy had been told she’d lost.

The child Evans had told her she lost.

He closed his eyes briefly, regret flickering inside his chest. The memory of Ivy’s broken sobs the night she’d been told the child didn’t survive still haunted him. He’d held her through it, felt her heart crack under his palms.

He hated lying to her.

But telling her the truth would’ve put her and the baby in danger.

He exhaled long and slow.

He just hoped that allowing Ivy anywhere near the Kane circle again wasn’t going to be a colossal mistake.

That was why he had told Mary everything.

And that was why he asked Mary to go with Sylvia to Canada.

To watch over the child.

To keep an eye on her granddaughter.

So far, it seemed like the best decision they’d made.

When Sylvia had told Evans that Tom Kane killed Joey’s wife, something cold and vicious had crawled up his spine. He had always known Tom was a calculated bastard, but this—this was a different level of rot.

And Winn... Winn was another problem entirely. Evans didn’t particularly like the man, but he respected how dangerously loyal he was when it came to Ivy. And there was something else—something Evans hadn’t dared tell anyone yet. He had spent a full year digging into Tom Kane. The deeper he went, the more twisted the puzzle became until eventually the pieces started aligning into a shape he wished he hadn’t recognized.

Evans had suspicions of who Winn’s real father was.

*****

Ivy sat in the Maybach, arms folded. Outside, Orchard Estate stretched in luxurious rolling land.

"Stop being stubborn, Ivy," Winn grumbled.

"Take me back home!" she snapped, hair wild around her face, cheeks flushed with fury. "This is kidnap."

"Nope. It isn’t. Your uncle gave his consent."

Ivy stared at him, mouth hanging open. "Are you guys best buddies now?"

"Beats me." Winn shrugged, rolling his wrist casually. "Now get out on your own or I am going to carry you like a sack into the house!"