Jamison said, "She couldn’t have had a chance to tip off the press last night, could she?"

They barely made it out of the parking lot before things got heated–there was no way she’d have had the time or headspace to call a reporter and set up a sting.

“Then who else…” Ivy frowned, her confusion evident. She studied Jamison’s calm, almost smug demeanor, and suddenly it clicked. “Wait–did you arrange for the journalists yourself?”

Jamison grinned, sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her in close. He dipped his head to steal a kiss and murmured playfully, “Aren’t you proud of your resourceful husband?”

Ivy gazed steadily into his eyes, her calmness masking something deeper. After a moment’s pause, she asked, “Do you ever worry that one day, you’ll use these tricks against me?”

Jamison’s brows drew together. “Why would you even think that?”

“I was just saying,” she replied lightly.

She turned to set down her water glass, but Jamison’s arm stayed locked around her.

“Come on, don’t start,” she protested. “Don’t you have work today?”

“I’ve already rearranged everything. It’s fine if I’m late.”

“Well, I need to get going. Things have been hectic lately and I’m pressed for time.”

Ivy pushed him away with real determination. She set her glass on the table and hurried to grab her things.

But Jamison caught her by the wrist and pulled her back.

“Jamison, what are you–?”

“Ivy.” He cut her off, his expression suddenly serious. His eyes held hers, unwavering. “You can trust me. I promise I would never hurt you. I’d never use any of those tricks against you.”

He knew exactly what had prompted her question.

The nightmares she’d suffered the night before said everything–she was deeply insecure, and it was no wonder. Three years spent in captivity, enduring unspeakable abuse… Anyone else would have shattered long ago, unable to function in normal life. But Ivy seemed almost untouched on the surface. She just hid the pain and darkness deep inside.

In the quiet of night, when sleep loosened her guard, those old wounds would rise up, raw and uncontrollable. That was why, last night, she’d curled instinctively into his arms, mumbling for her mother in her sleep.

She needed healing.

Yet the people she should have been able to trust most–her own family–had hurt her all over again.

So now she doubted everyone, even those who truly cared.

He didn’t want to expose her vulnerability, not when she was trying so hard to hide it. All he could do was make this promise, hoping she’d believe him, hoping she’d let herself trust.

Ivy stared at him, not quite sure what to make of his sudden gravity.

After a beat, she forced a careless smile and tried to brush it off. “Why so serious all of a sudden? I was only joking.”

“I’m not joking,” Jamison said, his tone unwavering. “I would never hurt you. You can trust me–lean on me if you need to.”

Her smile faded. She looked straight at him, her eyes searching his. “And if one day I want to leave–would you still never hurt me?”

“Never,” Jamison replied firmly. “If the day comes you truly want to leave, it would mean you’re not happy with me anymore. And if that happens, I'd let you go. I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me.”

Ivy was stunned.

All her life, she’d only heard those words in love songs–letting go is also a kind of love.

She never thought she’d ever meet someone who would actually mean it.

She had no idea what to say. They just stood there, gazes locked, as if something unseen was drawing them closer, weaving quietly between them…

Suddenly, her phone rang, shattering the silence.

Ivy blinked and glanced at the screen, her brow furrowing in surprise.

Jamison, standing close enough to see the caller ID, looked puzzled too. “Who’s Officer Gallagher?”