Chapter 2
After moving out of the penthouse, I threw myself into a high-stakes international crisis counseling project.
I clearly underestimated Levi's ego.
To him, my departure wasn't a breakup; it was just a tactical retreat in a game of cat and mouse.
Three days later, my office manager knocked on my door. "Dr. Sullivan, someone just delivered a truckload of flowers. They're a peace offering from Mr. Grant."
She looked at me with pure envy. "It's an entire trunk full of Stargazer lilies. It's the most romantic thing I've ever seen."
My hand froze as I was filling out a patient's medical record.
I was deathly allergic to lilies.
Three years ago, a client of Levi's sent a bouquet to the house and I went into anaphylactic shock.
Levi had stayed by my hospital bed, watching me struggle under an oxygen mask, swearing he'd never let another lily near me again.
Now, he had sent a mountain of them.
Ignoring the knot in my stomach, I walked downstairs.
Levi's driver was standing by the open trunk, and the cloyingly sweet scent hit me like a physical blow.
My throat tightened instantly, and red hives began to bloom across my neck and hands.
My phone buzzed. It was Levi.
"Well? Do you like them?" He sounded smug, almost bored. "Madison told me women find lilies irresistible, so I had the florist clear out their entire stock for you.
"I think this is a big enough gesture, don't you? Stop being difficult and come home for dinner."
He spoke with the casual arrogance of a man who expected a standing ovation for a death sentence.
The air in my lungs was thinning. "Le... vi..." I managed to gasp, my voice sounding like a broken reed.
"What? So touched you're speechless?" Levi let out a dry chuckle. "Whatever. I'll pick you up at seven."
As the sensation of suffocation took over, I used my last bit of strength to hang up and dial 911.
I lost consciousness in the ambulance and woke up hours later in a sterile emergency ward.
Once I could breathe again, I reached for my phone to check my schedule.
The first thing on my feed was a post from Levi.
It was a photo taken at a high-end oyster bar.
He and Madison were clinking champagne flutes over a platter of chilled seafood.
Madison was beaming at the camera, and even though Levi was only seen in profile, he looked perfectly relaxed.
The caption read: [Celebrating someone finally learning how to be sensible. Silence is a virtue.]
The post was from two hours ago. Right when the doctors were pumping me full of epinephrine to keep my heart beating.
This was his version of "picking me up for dinner."
I ripped the IV out of my hand, ignoring the bead of blood on my skin.
I pulled up the photo of the legal separation papers I'd prepared weeks ago and sent them directly to him. [We're done.]
He called back in seconds, sounding livid. "Ivy, what the hell is wrong with you?
"They were just flowers! If you didn't like them, you should have just thrown them away.
"Do you have any idea what a public split will do to the firm's stock price?"
He only ever cared about his bottom line.
"You forgot I was allergic," I said, my voice cold.
There was a brief silence.
"You're still holding onto that? That was years ago," he snapped, his voice dripping with impatience. "Madison doesn't have half as many issues as you do.
"She's happy with whatever I give her. Honestly, Ivy, can you stop being so high-maintenance?"
High-maintenance. He called a near-death experience high-maintenance.
Any lingering spark of affection I had for him died in that moment.
"Don't contact me again, Levi. You make my skin crawl." I hung up and blocked his number.
*****
A week later, I received an invitation from a prestigious psychological association for a summit on a private cruise.
It was a career-defining opportunity, the kind of event I couldn't afford to miss.
But the moment I stepped onto the deck, I saw a familiar figure.
Levi was lounging on a daybed in a linen shirt, looking entirely too comfortable.
Next to him was Madison, wearing my designer bikini.
It was a custom piece I'd ordered from Paris and hadn't even had the chance to wear yet.
Levi lowered his sunglasses, looking at me as if my presence was a foregone conclusion.
"You finally showed up. I booked out half this deck for us." He gestured to the empty chair beside him. "Let's drop the theatrics. This is a reconciliation trip. We need to talk."
"This is an academic conference," I said flatly.
"That was just the bait to get you here."