CHAPTER 215: HE HAS FAMILY TOO

"He has family too," Ivy insisted.

Joey hesitated.

"He didn’t tell you..." Joey muttered.

Ivy’s brows drew together. "Tell me what?"

Joey sighed. "He hasn’t spoken to his parents in over a year."

"Why? I understand him staying away from Tom. But Anna?" She shook her head as confusion twisted through her.

Joey sighed, shoulders sinking. "When the Orchard will was read," he began, rubbing both hands over his face, "asides from getting the entire Orchard fortune, Winn also found out his parents had been lying to him his whole life."

"What do you mean?"

"Tom isn’t his father," Joey said quietly. "So no, Ivy... he doesn’t have anyone. Just me and you. And right now, what will work is you."

"He’s limited on loved ones," Joey continued. "Losing one that would love him unconditionally, one who he wasn’t even given the opportunity to meet..." He stopped. "Ivy, the baby wasn’t just a loss for you."

Ivy cut him off with a sharp, trembling snap. "What? So it’s my fault?"

"Isn’t it?" he shot back. "I know you’re angry he got married to Sharona. But put yourself in his goddamn shoes. You left him. You kept your pregnancy from him—kept a piece of him from him. A piece he deserved to know. A piece that might’ve anchored him when everything else was burning. Take some blame too, Ivy. You earned it."

And with that, Joey turned and walked back to his car. He simply left her with the truth, as brutal and unpolished as it was.

Ivy stood there long after the engine faded down the driveway. The cool evening breeze tugged at the curls she’d pinned up for her Saturday night outing.

Joey was right.

And the realization cracked her open from the inside. She had been thinking about her own pain, her own hurt, her own abandonment.

She guarded her heart and decided he could burn outside its gates because she was the one who almost died. She was the one who lost the baby. She was the one who crawled out of hell with scars she didn’t ask for.

But she wasn’t the only one bleeding.

She didn’t think about Winn.

This wasn’t her.

She wasn’t selfish.

She wasn’t self-absorbed.

Yet somehow—somewhere along the way—she became exactly that.

Her throat tightened. The night air suddenly felt too thin. She clutched her bag tighter to steady herself.

She looked around the estate, her gaze sweeping over the pristine lawn. Was this new life changing her? she wondered. She couldn’t tell anymore if she was becoming a better version of herself or a harder one.

Maybe it was the pain—the loss, the pursuit of revenge—that was reshaping her into someone she barely recognized. Someone colder. Someone sharper.

With a slow exhale, she reached into her handbag and pulled out her phone.

She typed out a message to Eugene:

I’m sorry. Something came up. I won’t be able to make it.

She got into the car and told the driver, "Orchard Ville."

Half an hour later, they arrived at the Orchard mansion.

Ivy stepped inside... and froze.

It was a disaster zone.

Everything made of glass was shattered. The chandeliers lay on the ground, broken into glittering debris. The massive dining table was a pile of jagged shards. The TV screen was smashed inward. The coffee table was crushed.

Lamps were toppled, their ceramic bodies cracked open. Even the wall art lay face down as if trying to hide from the destruction.

"Oh my God..." she whispered, hand flying to her mouth. Her heels crunched against broken glass with every step, echoing through the cavernous mansion.

She stepped deeper into the ruined home. "Winn?" she called.

"Winn!" she called louder, trying not to slip on the glass.

"You shouldn’t be here."

The voice was rough, low, and completely devoid of the command she associated with him.

Ivy spun around quickly.

There he was—sitting on the ground near the kitchen doorway. Empty bottles of alcohol surrounded him. A small gash sat across his cheekbone, another on his brow. His hands... God. His hands were covered in tiny cuts.

"Winn..." she breathed, the guilt hitting her full force.

"What are you doing, Winn?" Ivy asked softly.

She dropped her bag and knelt beside him. Up close she could see the fine tremor in his fingers, the exhaustion in every line of his body, the despair behind his half-lidded eyes.

"Letting off steam," he muttered.

"By going full Incredible Hulk?" Ivy shot back, glancing pointedly at the ruined mansion around them. "News flash, you aren’t the Hulk. Hulk doesn’t bleed."

A tiny corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile, but it died before reaching his eyes.

"You have a first aid box in the house?"

"Kitchen cabinet," he said, tipping his head weakly toward it. "First one on the top right."

Ivy pushed herself to her feet, stepped carefully through the debris, and fetched the white metal first aid box. When she returned, she sat close—too close for Winn’s emotional stability—and opened the kit.

She soaked a cotton pad with antiseptic and reached for his hand.

The moment her fingers brushed his skin, Winn stiffened.

Ivy ignored the way her own pulse jumped and focused on cleaning his cuts, gently swiping across his knuckles where tiny slivers of glass still clung. She picked up the tweezers and got to work pulling them out.

"You shouldn’t be here, Ivy," Winn murmured.

"I wanted to be here." She blew lightly on a cleaned wound and reached for his other hand. "Joey told me you haven’t been to work."

"Didn’t feel like it."

She finished cleaning his cuts and began wrapping gauze around the deeper one on his palm.

Winn looked anywhere but at her.

"Ivy, you need to go," he said, swallowing hard. "I don’t want you here."

"No," she said simply.

He finally glanced at her, eyes rimmed red and full of splintered anger and heartbreak. "You need to talk about it."

"Like you did?" His gaze sharpened, stabbing into her. "Who did you grieve with, Ivy? Mr. Young and Handsome?"

(This additional Chapter is just cause I love you all)