The first thing Ivy learned about war was this—
It never starts loud.
It starts quiet. Surgical. Calculated.
Lucien stood in the dark office long before sunrise, city lights bleeding through the glass like a living map. Screens glowed. Names scrolled. Accounts froze. Shell companies collapsed one by one.
Daniel Cross was losing ground.
And he knew it.
"You're enjoying this," Ivy said from the doorway.
Lucien didn't turn. "I'm finishing something I started years ago."
She stepped inside, arms crossed. "By destroying everything he built?"
"No," Lucien replied. "By forcing him into the open."
As if summoned, Lucien's phone rang.
He answered without hesitation.
Daniel's voice came through smooth. Mocking. Dangerous.
"Impressive move, Vale. You hit fast."
Lucien's eyes hardened. "You pushed my wife."
A pause.
Then laughter.
"She's learning quickly," Daniel said. "I like her."
Lucien's voice dropped to ice. "You don't get to say her name."
"Relax," Daniel replied. "This is business. The past just makes it personal."
Lucien ended the call.
Ivy exhaled slowly. "He's not backing down."
"No," Lucien agreed. "He's baiting us."
Her phone vibrated in her hand.
A video.
She opened it—and froze.
Old footage. Grainy. Shaky. A burning stairwell. Smoke. Panic.
Then a voice.
Her voice.
"I can't breathe—!"
Ivy staggered back. "That's… that's me."
Lucien was beside her instantly. "He found it."
The video cut abruptly to black.
A message followed.
Post the truth.
Or I do.
Ivy's heart pounded. "If that goes public—"
"They'll twist it," Lucien said. "They'll make you complicit."
She lifted her chin. "Then we release it first."
Lucien studied her. "You're sure?"
"Yes," she said. "No more hiding."
Silence stretched.
Then Lucien nodded. "Fine. But we control the narrative."
Within the hour, Lucien's legal team moved. Statements prepared. Evidence cross-checked. The video released—uncut, timestamped, authenticated.
The internet exploded.
WITNESS EMERGES IN TEN-YEAR-OLD FIRE CASE
IVY MOORE CONFIRMED AS MINOR AT TIME OF INCIDENT
Daniel's smile vanished from the headlines.
Minutes later, Lucien's phone rang again.
Daniel didn't sound amused now.
"You just crossed a line."
Lucien's answer was calm. "You drew it."
"You think this makes her untouchable?" Daniel snapped. "You've painted a target on her back."
Lucien looked at Ivy—steady, unbroken.
"She's been a target since the night you ran," Lucien said. "Now everyone knows."
He hung up.
The room felt charged. Alive.
Ivy let out a shaky breath. "So that's it. We wait?"
Lucien turned to her fully.
"No," he said. "Now we advance."
He slid a file across the desk.
Inside—photos. Financial trails. Witness affidavits.
Daniel Cross. Bribes. Coerced testimony.
A house of cards.
"You built all this… for me?" Ivy asked.
"For the truth," Lucien corrected. Then, quieter, "And for you."
Her chest tightened.
"Lucien," she said, "if this destroys you—"
"It won't," he said. "But if it does… I'll still finish it."
She met his gaze. "Then we finish it together."
A beat.
Lucien extended his hand.
This time, not like a contract.
Like a pact.
She took it.
Across the city, alarms blared in Daniel Cross's world—accounts flagged, partners fleeing, doors closing.
Daniel stared at his screen, fury burning.
"She chose him," he muttered. "Fine."
He picked up his phone and typed a final message.
If you want the truth, Ivy…
come alone.
The message landed on her screen.
Ivy looked up at Lucien.
"He wants to meet."
Lucien's jaw set. "It's a trap."
"I know," she said.
Silence.
Then Lucien nodded once.
"Then we walk into it," he said. "And end this."
Ivy slipped her phone into her pocket.
The counterstrike had begun.
And this time—
They weren't running.