Chapter 3
The private wing of the Blackwood estate felt worlds away from the opulence and chaos of the ballroom. Here, the halls were dimly lit, lined with dark mahogany panels and heavy velvet drapes that muffled the sound of the storm raging outside.
Ivy sat on the edge of a leather-upholstered chaise lounge in Ronan’s personal study, the heavy coat still draped over her shoulders. The doctor, an elderly man with silver hair and a professional, unshakeable demeanor, finished applying a soothing antiseptic ointment and a clean white bandage over her torn shoulder.
"The skin is broken, but the muscle damage is minimal," the doctor spoke quietly, packing his leather case. "Keep it clean, miss. And try to avoid any strenuous movement for the next few days."
"Thank you, Doctor," Ivy murmured.
With a polite nod, the doctor packed his instruments, stood up, and quietly exited the room, leaving the heavy oak door clicking shut behind him.
For a long moment, the only sound in the expansive study was the rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner and the heavy patter of rain against the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Ronan stood by the fireplace, staring into the flickering amber flames. He held a glass of dark amber whiskey in one hand, swirling the liquid slowly. He hadn't touched a drop; his mind was entirely occupied by the events that had unfolded downstairs.
"You took the hit for the girl," Ronan said without turning around. It wasn't a question.
Ivy shifted slightly, wincing as the movement pulled at her bandaged shoulder. "She was terrified. And her mother is sick. If she had lost her job tonight, her family would have lost everything."
Ronan finally turned, his dark eyes fixing on hers. He took a slow step toward the chaise lounge, his imposing shadow stretching across the Persian rug. "And you? You risked your own safety, your livelihood, for someone you barely know."
"Some people don't have the luxury of looking away, Mr. Blackwood," Ivy replied, meeting his gaze with an unyielding fire in her eyes that caught him off guard. "Not everyone can afford to be cruel."
A faint, bitter smile touched the corner of Ronan’s lips. For years, people in his world had feared him, flattered him, or tried to betray him. No one—least of all a maid—had ever looked him in the eye and spoken to him with such raw, unapologetic truth.
May you like
He knelt down on one knee in front of her, closing the distance between them until Ivy could feel the heat radiating from him.
"You have courage, Ivy Lancaster," Ronan murmured, his voice dropping to a low, intimate register. "More courage than half the politicians who were cowering in that ballroom tonight. But loyalty in this house comes with a price. Are you prepared to pay it?"
