Undressed By His Arrogance

Sylvia’s knees buckled. "Winn..."

"And I felt NOTHING," he thundered, slamming his fist against his chest. "NOTHING! No guilt. No fear. No remorse. That is the darkness I have descended to."

"That is the spark YOU helped ignite," he said.

Sylvia crumbled against the wall, sobbing silently.

"For once in your life," Winn snarled, "grow up. Life doesn’t revolve around you or what you want. You are thirty—thirty—and still clueless. Still fragile."

He grabbed her suitcase—half-open near the couch from when she’d returned the night before—and tossed it at her feet.

"Go back to Canada, Syl."

"And don’t ever come back." He pointed again at the door, his hand trembling with fury and heartbreak. "Because I don’t ever want to see you ever again."

"Winn..." Sylvia sobbed. Tears rolled fast down her cheeks.

"Syl, just leave me alone. Go wherever you want. Just let it be away from me."

Sylvia pressed a hand to her mouth to keep the sob from ripping out of her. She had known—deep down—that telling him the truth would come with a cost.

She had underestimated the gravity of what she had done. Was it the fact she did it at all... or was it the fact she told him too late? Too late for him to protect Ivy, Elizabeth. Too late for him to feel anything except betrayal.

Even now, she was terrified to tell him the rest. She wasn’t sure he’d survive the full truth. What would he do? Would bringing Elizabeth back help him forgive her? Maybe. But she couldn’t do that—not until she was sure the child wasn’t in danger anymore.

So Sylvia walked away.

The house was silent behind her as she stepped out into the cold night. The wind whipped at her dress. She followed the gravel path until she reached the small chapel behind the house.

Her steps echoed softly as she crossed to the back, where her grandfather’s grave lay just outside the chapel wall. She sank to her knees beside the gravestone, the cold earth seeping through her clothes.

"Grandpa," she whispered, wiping her face with shaking hands. "I really messed up this time."

*****

Ivy was surprised—no, stunned—when John knocked lightly on her bedroom door and informed her in his ever-flat, ever-patient voice that Mr. Kane was at the gates waiting for her.

"John, it’s past midnight!" Ivy hissed. Her hair was a mess from tossing and turning, and the faint warmth on her cheeks was from irritation she was trying very, very hard to keep civilized. Midnight was not a socially acceptable hour for... well... anything.

"He is refusing to leave, ma’am."

"Is grandpa asleep?" Ivy asked.

"Yes ma’am," John answered.

"Shit!" Ivy muttered under her breath, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Okay, let him in, but I’ll meet him at the back of the house. In grandpa’s pad."

John bowed his head slightly, the picture of composed obedience. "As you wish, ma’am."

He pivoted and left to carry out Ivy’s instructions.

The moment he was gone, Ivy let out a frustrated groan. "Dammit, Winn. Will you ever leave me alone?!" she whispered to herself, pacing once in her bedroom. She grabbed her robe, throwing it over her shoulders as if it could give her courage or attitude. Her hair was still mussed from sleep, and she wasn’t exactly thrilled to be facing Winn while looking soft and vulnerable. He always made her feel exposed without even touching her.

She padded down the back staircase quietly. When she slipped through the backdoor, the night air hit her.

He was already waiting. His hair was tousled, and the shadows under his eyes made him look even more devastatingly intense than usual.

"What is this?" Ivy snapped, crossing her arms. "Winn, it’s the middle of the night! What do you think you are doing? You cannot just breeze in here like you own me or this place."

Winn stepped closer, lifting a finger to her lips. The touch was brief but it startled her into silence. "Don’t talk," he murmured. "Just listen. I came here to apologise to you." He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. "You were right. Everything that has happened to you is because of me, my family."

A flicker of irritation rose in her. "This couldn’t wait till tomorrow?" Ivy asked.

Winn shook his head slowly. "No."

"I—" she started, but he gestured toward the cushioned bench inside the pad.

"Sit please, Ivy," Winn said. "I promise, I’m not gonna touch you or make you do anything uncomfortable. I just need you tonight."

"I cannot do this! Winn, we are going in circles. One minute, you want to leave me alone, the next minute you wont. I don’t want to have anything to do with you. This darkness that surrounds you, I’m done with it." Ivy snapped.

Winn felt the pain punch through his chest. But yes... she was right. She usually was. The woman had a talent for burning him alive with honesty.

He stepped closer. His fingers twitched—itching, practically begging—to touch her cheek, her arm, her waist... anything. But he didn’t. Instead, he kept his hands locked behind his back, fists tightening. If he touched her now, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

"I wanted to take one long look at you," he murmured, "because I have no idea what I am going to do next, Ivy. But fine, you want me out of your hair, I get it. Work with Joey closely. I will be going on a sabbatical."

A sabbatical.

From his life, his work... from her.

Ivy blinked, momentarily thrown off balance.

"What...what are you going to do?" she asked.

Winn sighed. He looked away for a moment.

"I don’t know," he admitted, and the honesty in his voice was raw. "I need to take a long, hard look at my life, Ivy. I have spent a long time running away from the hard truth that is my family."

"Are you going to hurt someone else?" Ivy asked.

(This is for 200 power stones. Can we get to 400?)