His jaw worked for a slow moment before he finally said, "I knew your grandfather."

The shift in tone was so unexpected that Winn blinked.

Sam continued, "Stubborn old ox... he was. Hard-headed, walked around as though the sun rose every morning just to shine on his head."

A huff of reluctant amusement left Winn.

"You carry yourself just like he did," Sam added. "Same spine. Same ridiculous devotion."

He stepped closer. "You seem capable. Responsible. But hear me well—if my granddaughter asks for protection from you... I will give it to her."

His eyes sharpened into steel. "Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," Winn said immediately.

Sam nodded once.

"I’ll have a cup of coffee," he said as he started walking in, "and get her a change of clothes from the driver out there."

He waved his cane toward the door. "I’ll wait until she is ready."

He strolled into the mansion.

He paused in the center of the living room, looking around with narrowed, observant eyes. His gaze swept across the sweeping staircase, the floor-to-ceiling windows that let in slanted golden morning light, the marble accents.

"George," he muttered under his breath, taking in the magnificent architecture. "You brilliant fool."

Sam wandered deeper into the space. "Did he build this for himself?" he asked quietly.

"For his wife," Winn replied. "My grandmother hated the noise of the city."

Sam grunted

Winn quickly got to work making that coffee.

*****

Evans was expecting Winn that morning.

He had his schedule cleared, and the cheque authorisation form ready for Winn’s signature.

The Kane Mall project was swallowing money faster than any project Evans had ever handled. He expected a serious discussion, maybe even mild bickering about budgets.

What he didn’t expect was a volatile Winn Kane flying through his office door.

The door slammed into the wall. Winn charged in, eyes wild.

For a split second, Evans genuinely thought Winn’s greeting would be a punch to the teeth.

"I’m going to ask this once, Evans. Just once. And it better be a straight answer."

He braced his palms on the desk and leaned in, eyes burning. "What happened to Ivy?"

"I told you I cannot tell you. She has to."

Winn’s fist came down hard on the desk.

"I swear to God, Evans!" Winn shouted. "Who are you looking out for here?"

His breath shook as he continued. "I spent the entire night watching over her... pulling her out of nightmares so gut-wrenching—so broken."

The blood drained from Evans’ face.

"She... she has nightmares?" he asked.

Winn’s nostrils flared. "You didn’t know?"

"I didn’t know!" Evans insisted, horrified. He pushed away from the desk. "I swear, Winn—I didn’t know."

He paced, dragging both hands through his hair.

"Oh God," Evans breathed. "Oh God, I should have known."

His steps faltered. "No one goes through that without scars."

He stopped pacing and leaned on a shelf, gripping it.

"I thought she was being strong," he whispered. "I thought she was coping."

Evans squeezed his eyes shut.

"Fuck! Irene warned me!!!" Evans shouted suddenly. "She told me Ivy was holding too much in."

He rubbed his temples. "I thought she was healing in her own way."

"What happened?" Winn tried again, calmer now.

Evans exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You cannot let her know I told you anything," he said quietly. "I am looking out for my niece here, and if I knew something was still wrong, I would have moved mountains to fix it."

"She didn’t get in an accident, did she?" he whispered. "It wasn’t an accident."

"I still will not give you all the details," Evans said. "I don’t want her mad at me. I have done enough already to make her killing me justifiable."

"Two days to your wedding," he said, "she was attacked. Beaten, raped. Stabbed. And left for dead."

Winn couldn’t breathe.

"The PI I hired to find Mary, her mother, found her. The image still haunts me."

Winn felt defeated. That was the only word for the sensation crushing his chest—defeat. He dropped into the chair behind him.

"She didn’t run," he said hoarsely. "She didn’t leave me. And I did nothing... I did nothing. Instead, I hurt her even further."

His hands covered his face.

"I have never been able to protect anyone dear to me," Winn confessed. "My sister... Ivy. I have no right to want her back."

Evans stepped toward Winn and perched at the edge of the desk.

"Look," Evans began. "I don’t like you. I think she can do better than you. But the both of you... you have something. A chemistry that is hard to find. A chemistry you never had with Irene."

"She will come around eventually," Evans continued. "She just needs time. She is angry, hurt and with the information you just gave me..." He sighed heavily. "I think it’s time she starts seeing a therapist."

"Do you know who hurt her?" Winn asked quietly.

Evans paused. His jaw worked slowly as he weighed how much he should reveal to the man currently vibrating with barely contained rage.

"We were able to find an ATM shot facing the motel where she was left," he said finally. "The picture is grainy and we can’t exactly identify the attackers..."

Winn’s eyes snapped up. "Attackers? There were two of them?"

"Yes," Evans confirmed.

Winn inhaled sharply. His hand flew up to his mouth, stifling a guttural sound as if the knowledge physically punched him.

"Forward the pictures to me," Winn said. "I’ll find them."

He stood abruptly. His height seemed to fill the entire office now, his anger palpable but tightly leashed. He wasn’t shouting anymore—this version of him was far more dangerous. Controlled. Cold. Focused.

Evans lifted a brow. "Winn...We still have to sign the cheque," Evans reminded him, tapping the folder on the desk.

"Oh... right, yeah. Uhm... sure." Winn blinked, as if the words were reaching him through water. His mind was clearly still miles away. Still, he forced himself back into CEO mode, pulling a pen from his pocket.