Chapter 91: Ninety one

Ronan POV

I stood in the doorway of my apartment watching her walk away, and for a while like my lungs gave out , I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“Ivy, please,” I called out, my voice cracking in a way I didn’t recognize. “Please don’t do this. Please.”

She didn’t turn around. Didn’t even slow down. Just kept walking toward the elevator like I was already gone.

I stepped into the hallway.

“Wait,” I said, louder this time. “At least let me—”

The elevator doors opened.

She stepped inside without looking back at me once.

I moved faster, my bare feet slapping against the cold tile, but the doors were already closing. I watched them slide shut with her inside, watched the numbers above start counting down, and felt something inside me break that I didn’t know was still intact.

I stood there for a minute, staring at the closed elevator doors like they might open back up. Like she might change her mind and step out and give me another chance to explain. Another chance to make her understand.

But she didn’t.

I turned around slowly and walked back into the apartment. The door was still open, still waiting like maybe she’d come back. I closed it hard enough that the sound echoed through the empty space.

My apartment felt different now. Smaller. Like the walls had moved in while we were talking.

I went to the kitchen and just stood there, gripping the edge of the counter hard enough that my knuckles went white. My hands were shaking. My entire body was shaking.

Predator.

That’s what she’d called me.

And the worst part was that she wasn’t wrong.

I’d spent six years trying to convince myself that I was different now. That I’d changed. That what happened with Hanna was something I’d learned from and moved past. But standing in my apartment watching Ivy walk away from me, I realized I’d just been lying to myself the whole time.

I’d never actually faced what I did.

I’d just run from it. From Hanna’s family. From the guilt. From myself. And then I’d run from Ivy when she got too close to the truth.

My phone sat on the counter. I stared at it like it might bite me.

I could call her. I could text her. I could go back downstairs and wait for her in the lobby and try to explain again. But what was the point? She’d already made up her mind. And honestly, she was right to.

I deserved this.

I deserved to stand alone in my expensive apartment and feel the weight of every bad choice I’d ever made. I deserved to watch someone I actually cared about walk out of my life because I was incapable of being honest until it was too late.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I found Dr. Chen’s number. My therapist. The person I’d been seeing for the last three years, supposedly working through my issues.

Except I’d never told him about the sex tape. Never told him about Hanna actually killing herself. Never told him that the “relationship mistake” I kept referring to had actually destroyed someone’s life.

I’d told him a watered-down version. A version where I was just a young asshole who’d learned his lesson.

I hadn’t told him the truth.

Which meant I hadn’t actually done any of the work. I’d just been going through the motions, showing up and talking about other stuff, letting him think I was healing when really I was just getting better at hiding.

I set the phone down without calling.

What was the point? Dr. Chen couldn’t fix this. Nobody could.

I walked into my living room and sat down on the couch the same couch where Ivy had been sitting just minutes ago. I could still smell her perfume on it. Could still see the impression of where she’d sat when she realized what kind of person I actually was.

My phone buzzed.

I looked at it, hoping—

It was my Deylan.

Harrington called. Wants to know where the statement is. Said Ivy isn’t answering her phone. You good?

I stared at that text.

No. I was not good.

Everything was falling apart and I was the reason. Again.

I typed back: Tell him I’m handling it.

But I wasn’t handling it. I was sitting on my couch in my empty apartment, bruised and broken and finally, finally understanding what it actually meant to lose everything.

Ivy was right about one thing I was a coward.

Because even now, sitting here with my entire life imploding, the first thing I’d done was text my agent a lie instead of facing reality.

I set the phone down and just sat there, staring at nothing.