“I’m not letting go!” Micah snapped, his nerves stretched to the breaking point. He glared at his uncle, barking out the order, “Jamison, it’s time you let go! Let go of Ivy!”
Ivy stood trapped between them, Jamison’s arm locked tightly around her shoulders, while Micah gripped her arm, refusing to release her.
Fortunately, the dinner rush had already passed, and the restaurant was mostly empty.
But even a handful of diners was enough. Several people craned their necks to watch the commotion, and someone had already pulled out their phone to record.
“Micah, let go of me!” Ivy struggled to pull her arm free, but Micah only tightened his hold, grabbing her with both hands now, determined not to release her.
Jamison’s patience snapped. “Micah, this is my last warning–let her go.”
“I won’t! What are you going to do, punch–ah!” Micah didn’t get to finish his taunt before Jamison’s fist shot out, landing squarely on Micah’s jaw.
Gasps rippled through the restaurant.
Where a moment ago people had been watching in idle curiosity, now every phone was up and recording.
The blow sent Micah stumbling backward, crashing into the doorframe near the entrance.
Ivy’s arm was finally free.
“Micah, do you even hear yourself? It’s over between you and Ivy. Emma was pregnant with your child, remember? How dare you come crawling back, begging for another chance?”
It was the first time Jamison had ever lost his temper in public. If he weren’t worried about the consequences, he’d have landed a few more punches on his foolish nephew–maybe knocked some sense into him.
Ivy didn’t linger. The instant she felt her freedom, she turned and walked away without a second’s hesitation.
Micah watched her leave, called after her-“Ivy!”–and tried to chase her down, but Jamison grabbed him by the back of his neck and yanked him back before he could take a step.
“Let go of me, Jamison! Don’t think I won’t fight you!” Micah shouted, his face red with rage, eyes wild.
“Oh, you want to take a swing at me?” Jamison laughed coldly, grabbing Micah by the collar. “Fine. Let’s find somewhere private. Just you and me.”
He dragged his unruly nephew out of the restaurant, hauling him all the way down to the underground parking lot.
Ivy had already made her way down and was standing by the car, keys in hand.
Hearing the commotion behind her, she glanced over her shoulder, frowning.
Micah, still seething, had been hauled all the way by his collar. As soon as they stepped out of the elevator, he lashed out first.
Jamison could have dodged, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of something–or someone–and changed his mind. He took the punch head-on.
Ivy flinched, her heart skipping a beat.
Micah was shouting and flailing, swinging wild punches and kicks. “Ah! Ah!”
“Jamison! You’re not my uncle! I don’t have an uncle like you!”
“Ivy’s mine! She’s mine!”
The usually well-mannered Micah was gone, replaced by a furious, wild animal, relentless and roaring like a lion, refusing to let up on Jamison.
Jamison fought back, but whether it was guilt or hesitation, he never landed a real blow. He took hit after hit, barely defending himself.
Ivy’s face twisted with distress, her cheeks scrunched in worry.
When Jamison took another punch, Ivy finally snapped. She strode over, grabbed a traffic cone from the side, and–without warning–brought it down hard on Micah’s head from behind.
“Ah!” Micah yelped in pain, doubling over and clutching his head.
But when he turned and saw Ivy standing over him, weapon in hand, his eyes went wide with shock and heartbreak. “Ivy, you… how could you be so cruel to me-?”