Chapter 6 - THE PRICE OF HER VOICE
Damon survived surgery.
For nine hours, Ivy didn't know whether he would.
She remained in the private hospital corridor wearing his blood on her blouse.
Rocco eventually brought her clean clothes.
She refused them.
"If he dies—"
"He won't."
"You don't know that."
"No."
Rocco sat beside her.
"I've known Damon twenty-one years. I've seen him take risks for business, family, revenge."
He looked at the blood on Ivy's hands.
"I've never seen him do that."
"Do what?"
"Forget himself."
Ivy said nothing.
At 4:12 a.m., the surgeon appeared.
The bullet had missed Damon's liver by less than an inch.
He would live.
Ivy closed her eyes.
Her knees almost gave way.
When Damon woke the following afternoon, she was asleep in the chair beside his bed.
He watched her for nearly a minute.
Then whispered, "You're fired."
Her eyes opened.
"What?"
"You followed me into gunfire."
"You got shot."
"Because someone was shooting at you."
"Technically they hit you."
"That's not helping your case."
She stood.
"You almost died."
"So did you."
"Stop acting like that means nothing."
His expression softened.
"It doesn't."
Silence.
Ivy suddenly became aware of how close they were.
Damon reached for her hand.
She let him.
"You stayed."
"Someone had to make sure you didn't terrorize the nurses."
"I was unconscious."
"You were still difficult."
He smiled.
A real smile.
Then the door opened.
Rocco entered.
"Sorry to interrupt whatever emotionally constipated thing this is."
Ivy pulled her hand away.
Damon glared.
Rocco dropped a folder on the bed.
Victor had issued an ultimatum.
Give him Ivy and Arthur's ledger within forty-eight hours, or he would release fabricated evidence connecting Damon to a series of murders committed by Gray Door operatives.
"He wants me publicly destroyed," Damon said.
"No," Ivy replied. "He wants you distracted."
She examined the documents.
Victor wasn't fleeing.
He was consolidating.
That meant he needed Gray Door's overseas partners to recognize him as the legitimate successor.
And that required language.
Not translation.
Trust.
Ivy suddenly understood why Victor wanted her.
Arthur Marlowe's daughter carried something more valuable than access keys.
His reputation.
Among older European networks, Arthur's name still meant something.
Victor needed Ivy to legitimize him.
"So we use that," she said.
Damon immediately said no.
She ignored him.
"We tell Victor I'll defect."
"No."
"We tell him you tried to kill me after learning what my father left me."
"No."
"He'll believe it."
"No."
Rocco looked between them.
"I'd like the record to show that I think this is an excellent plan."
Damon stared at him.
Rocco reconsidered.
"Terrible. Horrible. I hate it."
Ivy folded her arms.
"Victor won't expose himself unless he thinks he's won."
"You are not bait."
"I'm the only bait he'll take."
"I said no."
"And I said I'm not your property."
Damon ripped the heart monitor lead from his chest and stood.
He lasted approximately three seconds before nearly collapsing.
Ivy caught him.
"You idiot!"
"I am perfectly capable—"
"You're bleeding through the bandage."
"I'm fine."
"You've been shot."
"Occupational inconvenience."
She stared at him.
Then, against every reasonable instinct, laughed.
Damon stared back.
Soon he laughed too.
For ten seconds, in the middle of a war worth billions, they were simply two exhausted people holding each other beside a hospital bed.
Then neither laughed anymore.
His hand remained at her waist.
Her palm rested against his chest.
"Ivy."
She knew what was coming.
So she kissed him first.
It wasn't elegant.
It wasn't planned.
It was fear and relief and three years of invisibility crashing into one impossible week.
Damon's hand moved gently behind her neck.
When they separated, Ivy whispered, "That doesn't mean you get to tell me what to do."
"I was afraid you'd say that."
"You know me surprisingly well for someone who didn't know my name eight days ago."
His expression tightened with regret.
"I should have."
"You know it now."
"I know everything about you now."
"No, you don't."
He looked at her.
Ivy smiled faintly.
"My favorite food?"
Damon paused.
"Exactly."
"Tell me."
"Earn it."
The plan began that night.
Ivy contacted Victor through an encrypted channel.
Her message contained six words:
Damon lied. My father didn't. Talk.
Victor responded in four minutes.
The meeting was arranged at an abandoned luxury hotel on Lake Michigan.
Damon hated every detail.
Ivy wore a hidden transmitter.
Rocco positioned teams outside.
Damon, despite medical orders, insisted on being there.
Victor arrived at midnight.
Alone.
Or apparently alone.
"You finally understood," he told Ivy.
"I understand Damon used my father."
"Yes."
"And you can prove it?"
Victor smiled.
"I can prove Damon ordered Arthur's death."
Ivy's heart stopped.
"You're lying."
Victor produced an old recording.
Damon's voice came through.
"Arthur has become a liability. Handle it."
Ivy went pale.
Victor smiled.
"Ask your lover why he murdered your father."
Miles away in the surveillance van, Damon heard every word.
May you like
And for the first time since the operation began, he removed his earpiece.
Because the voice on that recording really was his.
