CHAPTER 131: LEAVE ME ALONE

Sylvia’s fingers trembled over her phone as she pulled Joey’s number. She hated the thought of calling Joey. Her thumb hovered over the call button, hesitating just for a split second.

She took a deep breath and pressed call. The ringtone seemed to drag on. Anna’s voice floated behind her. "Sylvia..." she said softly.

"Leave me alone, Mum!" Sylvia snapped, spinning on her heel.

*****

Joey groaned as the phone vibrated insistently. His eyes blinked open, the sunlight filtering through the half-drawn blinds, casting jagged shadows across the chaos of the Orchard mansion’s living room. Bottles still clinked precariously on the tables, a stray feather boa from the previous night’s debauchery draped across the sofa.

He stretched lazily, trying to shake off the fog in his brain, the remnants of last night’s celebrations still clinging stubbornly.

Across the room, Winn was still sprawled on the chaise lounge in nothing but his shorts. Joey shook his head, a wry grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. The man had gone all out last night—his bachelor party had been legendary.

Strippers, friends, booze, confessions of love shouted over music and laughter—it had been an unforgettable finale to decades of bachelorhood. Even the strippers had gotten an earful about how much he adored Ivy, and Joey had found himself laughing despite the mess.

Joey looked at the caller ID and saw Sylvia’s name. Without a second thought, he slipped silently out of the chaotic living room, careful not to wake Winn.

"Hey, Syl," he said in a low voice.

"Where is Winn?" Sylvia’s voice was sharp, urgent, and tight with panic. Joey could hear her pacing on the other end of the line.

"He is knocked out," Joey said, trying to keep his voice even. He glanced through the living room window where Winn lay sprawled in his shorts, oblivious to the world. "What’s up?"

"Ivy is missing," Sylvia snapped, and Joey felt the sharp sting of alarm in his chest. "I think she got cold feet."

"Oh crap!" Joey swore under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he pressed the phone tighter to his ear. "How do you know?"

Sylvia hurriedly explained everything: Trish’s panicked phone call, the note Ivy had left behind for Trish, the engagement ring placed on the coffee table as if to mock all the happiness that had just been building. Joey felt the heat rise in his chest.

"Alright," he said with a voice edged in urgency. "I’ll meet up with you at Ivy’s house." He hung up, his fingers trembling slightly.

He turned back into the mansion, and his eyes immediately landed on Winn’s phone discarded beside the sofa. He picked it up, swiping up using Winn’s known password. His eyes scanned the screen, and his chest tightened at what he saw. There it was: a message from Ivy, cruelly simple, painfully final.

’I can’t do this Winn. I’m sorry. I don’t think what we have is real enough for long term. Goodbye.’

"Shit!" Joey cursed. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" His fingers trembled as he slid the phone into his pocket, trying not to dwell on the heartbreak those words would inflict on Winn. He could already imagine the anguish, the self-recrimination, the confusion that would consume his friend.

Joey’s gaze swept across the room. The party detritus mocked him, but there was no time to clean or relax. His eyes landed on a notepad on the side table, half-buried under empty glasses and scattered party confetti. He grabbed it along with a pen, flipping it open to start scribbling.

’Best man duties calling. Had to go. I have got your phone. Don’t want you distracted with work.’

He placed the note beside Winn and pulled on his shirt which was hanging on one of the sofas and hurried out of the mansion.

*****

Saturday morning broke over the Kane estate in a swirl of crisp autumn light. Winn arrived early, the air buzzing with nervous energy, the estate quiet except for the faint hum of preparation staff bustling about. Every attempt to reach Ivy through Reese’s phone went straight to voicemail.

As Reese expertly maneuvered the Maybach into the sprawling courtyard, Joey was already waiting. Winn’s stride quickened. "You took my phone? What the fuck, man!"

"Winn..." Joey began.

"What... what is going on?" Winn’s eyes narrowed. Joey’s jaw was tight, his eyes shadowed with concern. A chill ran down Winn’s spine.

Joey let out a long exhale and finally handed the phone over to Winn. "I think Ivy got cold feet," he said softly, as if saying it louder might make it real. Winn’s heart thumped wildly, disbelief mingling with confusion. "Cold feet?" he repeated, chuckling nervously. "That’s impossible." It was impossible because he knew her.

He had read every nuance of her laughter, traced every curve of her mind, felt every beat of her heart against his own. They loved each other—deeply, irrevocably. How could cold feet suddenly intrude into a love that had been tested, cherished, and proven?

"Check your messages," Joey urged, the tension in his voice unmistakable now. Winn scrolled through the screen, each swipe a beat of suspense, and there it was: Ivy’s message, short, curt, and heart-wrenching. ’I can’t do this, Winn. I’m sorry. I don’t think what we have is real enough for long term. Goodbye.’

Winn froze for a moment. A fleeting wave of disbelief passed through him, threatening to wash him into despair. "Well," he muttered with a wry chuckle, "cold feet can be temporary. I’ll just go warm her feet up. It’s not a big deal."

"Winn...we have spent all day and night looking for her. She is gone, man."

"We...Who is we?" Winn demanded, turning sharply, his eyes scanning for any trace of his bride-to-be. His chest tightened. His mind refused to entertain the notion that Ivy—his Ivy, the one who had stolen every corner of his heart—could actually disappear from him.

"Myself, Sylvia, and Trish," Joey answered, wary of Winn’s mounting intensity. The trio had combed every conceivable place, every café, park, old acquaintances where Ivy might have sought solace, yet she remained elusive.