Undressed By His Arrogance-Chapter 315: What Are You Saying?

"I need to talk to you first," Irene said, gripping Ivy’s arm firmly.

"Not now." Ivy tried to step around her, adrenaline surging. Every instinct screamed at her to get to Winn. To see him. To confirm with her own eyes that he was still breathing. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

Irene moved again, blocking her path. "Listen," she said quietly. "I am not trying to stop you. I just need to remind you that you carry a baby inside you, and you have to take it easy. Okay?"

"What... what are you saying?" she whispered, dread clawing its way up her spine. "Is Winn dead?"

"No," Irene said quickly, squeezing her arm. "No. He’s alive."

Ivy sagged slightly then Irene kept talking.

"He’s in a coma. His organs are shutting down. The doctors say he ingested a toxin, and they don’t know the antidote until they know the exact toxin. They’re keeping him stable and running tests."

"Who did this?" Ivy asked softly.

"We haven’t had a chance to get to that yet. Anna is inconsolable," Irene answered softly.

Ivy stepped past Irene.

Her heels clicked sharply against the floor as she crossed the short distance to Anna. Tim looked up, instinctively tightening his hold on Anna. Anna’s face was blotchy and red, her sobs coming in uneven gasps that sounded painful.

Ivy stopped directly in front of her.

"Who did this?" she asked again.

Anna tried to speak. Her mouth opened, closed. A strangled sound came out instead, and fresh tears spilled over. She shook her head, fingers clutching at Tim’s jacket.

"I don’t have the fucking time for this, Anna," Ivy said sharply. Heads turned. "Who the fuck did this?!"

Sam’s brows shot up in approval. Tim stared at Ivy. Anna flinched as if struck, her sobs faltering in shock.

Before Anna could crumble further, Maurice stepped forward, adjusting his coat. His face was pale, eyes darting nervously.

"We suspect it was my assistant," he said. "He was nowhere to be found after it happened."

Ivy’s head snapped toward him.

"Who is your assistant?" she demanded.

"Raphael Levine."

"You kept Raphael as your assistant?" Ivy asked, incredulous now, a sharp edge of disbelief cutting through her fury.

Maurice frowned, clearly thrown. "Why wouldn’t I? Has he done something wrong?"

"I don’t have time for this," she said flatly.

She turned on her heel and looked straight at Evans, who straightened instantly. "Call Mike. Now. And where is Reese? I need him here immediately."

Evans nodded without question, already pulling out his phone.

"And," Ivy added, "I would like to see my fiancé."

A ripple went through the small group. Tim looked surprised. Anna finally lifted her head, eyes wide and glassy, staring at Ivy as if she was seeing her clearly for the first time.

Ivy didn’t care.

She didn’t care about optics. She didn’t care about enemies watching, about whispers or headlines or threats lurking just beyond the hospital doors. She didn’t care that declaring Winn hers so openly painted a target on her back—and on the child growing inside her.

Let them come.

Winn lay somewhere down the hall, broken and poisoned and fighting for his life. The man she loved. The father of her child. The reason the monster inside her had finally been unleashed.

She was done hiding.

Sam nodded once and turned toward the nurse’s desk. He leaned slightly on his cane, murmuring a few low words to the charge nurse. Papers were checked, a clipboard consulted, and after a brief exchange that ended with a respectful yes, sir, Ivy was waved forward.

The corridor toward the ICU felt longer than it should have been. Each step Ivy took felt disconnected from the rest of her body. Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs, every beat chanting the same word over and over again: live, live, live.

When the nurse finally pushed the door open, the sound was soft—but to Ivy it felt deafening.

Winn lay there, impossibly still.

The sight of him punched the air from her lungs. His skin was pale, the sharp planes of his face softened. An oxygen mask covered his mouth and nose, fogging faintly with each shallow breath. Tubes snaked into his arms, machines blinking and beeping around him.

This man—this dangerous, infuriating, brilliant man—had always filled rooms with his presence. Seeing him reduced to wires and silence felt wrong. Unnatural.

Ivy walked closer on unsteady legs, the beeping of the monitors growing louder in her ears until it drowned out everything else. Her fingers trembled as she reached for him, brushing through his hair with aching tenderness. It was still warm. Still him.

"You cannot die, babe," she whispered. "You will not die. You hear me? You hang in there. Please."

She swallowed hard, blinking back tears that burned. She slid her hand into his, lacing their fingers together. His hand was heavier than she remembered, limp in her grasp, but real. Tangible. Proof he was still here.

"I’m sorry I was mad at you," she said. "I’m so sorry. I didn’t know... I didn’t know what it felt like. What this feels like."

"God, I was so busy trying to pretend I wasn’t terrified. I didn’t know how it feels to imagine a future and then have it ripped away."

Her thumb stroked the back of his hand over and over, a nervous rhythm. "Baby, please. Elizabeth needs you. I need you. I promise—I promise I will not whine or argue with you anymore for the rest of our lives. Okay? I’ll complain internally like a normal person."

"Just... don’t leave me," she whispered, lowering her forehead to his knuckles. "Please don’t."

The machines continued their steady chorus, indifferent to her pleas. Time stretched. Ivy stayed there, holding him, breathing with him, willing her strength into his body as if sheer stubbornness could pull him back.

The door opened softly behind her.

She didn’t turn at first.

"Ivy," Evans said gently. "Mike and Reese are here."

She finally looked up, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. There was steel beneath the grief now, a sharp clarity that hadn’t been there before. Love had cracked her open.