Undressed By His Arrogance

From the staircase, the other children emerged slowly, eyes wide with confusion. Morgana’s eyes swept over them, tears beginning to cloud her vision. Her lips trembled.

The room seemed suspended in that violent, charged moment, every heartbeat echoing loudly.

Evans took in the scene. James stood frozen near the center of the room, a gun hanging heavy in his hand, his face pale and rigid. Morgana was pressed in front of him, her body curved protectively, one arm flung wide as if she could physically block the world from reaching her son.

And Tom—Tom lay sprawled on the floor, blood pouring from his chest in dark, spreading rivulets that soaked into the rug. Neither Evans nor Tim moved toward Tom. Some lines, once crossed, didn’t earn mercy.

Tim’s gaze lingered on Tom. "You did this?" he asked before turning to James.

"No!" Morgana screamed. "I did it."

Evans’s eyes flicked down to the weapon still clutched in James’s hand, then back up. "The gun is in his hand, Miss Adams," he said evenly.

Morgana spun, grabbed the gun from James’s shaking fingers, and wrapped both hands around it, lifting it. Her arms locked, her shoulders squared. "I did it," she repeated. "Please... please... I’m begging you. I did it."

"Mum..." James’s voice came from behind her.

"Stop talking, sweetie," Morgana said urgently, without turning around. "Stop talking." She would carry this. She would carry all of it.

Tim stepped forward, hands visible, posture controlled. "I’m sorry," he said. "We will tell the cops exactly what we saw."

Morgana’s knees threatened to buckle. Tears streamed down her face unchecked now. "Please, Tim," she whispered desperately. "Please."

"Why should I do anything for you?" he asked quietly. "After everything you and Tom did."

"He is your nephew," Morgana said hoarsely, clutching at that last thread of hope.

"You really cannot tell me you didn’t know Tom was adopted," he said coldly. "And both of you killed my father, didn’t you?" His eyes bored into hers. "The same technique you were going to use on Anna. Her medicine."

Evans shifted slightly, glancing toward the staircase where the children stood frozen, wide-eyed, absorbing far more than they ever should have.

"I will confess to everything," Morgana said. "Everything we have both done. Everything we were about to do." Her grip tightened around the gun. "Just please—leave my son out of this. I did it." She was simply choosing. Choosing her children over everything else she had chased, over the man bleeding out on her floor, over the future she’d convinced herself she deserved.

Tim turned his head slightly toward Evans. Evans met his gaze and gave a short nod. Morgana saw it. She spun toward James, reaching for him. "Listen to me, sweetie," she said urgently. "I am so sorry it eventually came to this." Her hands framed his face, thumbs brushing his cheeks. "But you take care of your siblings, you hear me? Always protect them. Above all else."

James shook his head, lips trembling, but no words came. Morgana leaned her forehead against his.

The distant wail of sirens began to rise. Morgana glanced toward the window. Then she turned back to her children, forcing a soft smile through the tears. "Protect each other," she said gently. "I’m going to be fine, okay?"

What followed unfolded in fragments. Hands on her wrists, cold metal snapping shut. The murmured instructions of officers moving efficiently through the house. A sheet pulled over Tom’s still body as he was lifted away. Morgana walked out with her head high, eyes locked on her children until the last possible moment, imprinting their faces into her memory.

Evans and Tim stood off to the side as Morgana was placed into the back of a patrol car. When the door shut and the car pulled away, both men exhaled at the same time, the tension draining out of them in a long, heavy sigh.

"It’s over?" Evans asked quietly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

"It’s over," Tim replied. He stared down the street where the patrol car disappeared, his jaw tight, old ghosts finally—finally—laid to rest.

"My God," Evans muttered. "It’s been quite the journey."

"That’s one way to put it." He glanced at Evans. "You should give them the news."

Evans nodded.

"You aren’t coming to the wedding?" Evans asked, pausing mid-step on the front walk as the last of the police vehicles pulled away. The street was finally quiet again.

Tim gave a sad smile. "If he wanted me there, he would have invited me, Evans." He shoved his hands into his coat pockets, shoulders lifting in a small shrug that didn’t quite hide the ache underneath. "It’s okay. It’s fine. I’m here whenever he’s ready."

Evans nodded slowly, then glanced back at the house. "Tom really ruined a lot of lives, didn’t he?" he murmured. "Those kids in there... how will they get through life?" 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Tim followed his gaze. "They will figure it out," he said simply.

*****

Winn had officially had enough.

He’d been waiting for hours—actual, unforgivable hours. First, Ivy gallivanted off to see his mother’s doctor, insisting on full blood panels, medication audits, and a lecture that made the poor man sweat through his lab coat. Then she made damn sure his mother was admitted for observation, personally overseeing every step.

As if that wasn’t enough, she’d gone with the guys to speak to detectives about Tom’s case. Winn had watched the clock tick forward while his blood pressure climbed, high enough that he briefly wondered if he needed his mother’s damned medication himself.

He’d even sent Reese to "politely" hurry things along, which everyone involved knew was code for terrifying every one.

Enough was enough.

With a sharp exhale, Winn stood, yanked on his tie, and stalked out of the courthouse.

He slid into his car and drove, engine roaring as he cut through traffic, ignoring speed limits. The city blurred past him, his thoughts laser-focused on one thing and one thing only: Ivy.