Updated Oct 4, 2025 • ~15 min read
Three weeks after the Times article broke, life had settled into a strange new rhythm. The initial media frenzy had calmed to a simmer, Richard was under SEC investigation, and Ivy and Theo were navigating unemployment while living in Naomi’s spare room. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was theirs.
What Ivy hadn’t anticipated was the social fallout.
Manhattan’s elite had divided into camps—those who believed the allegations and distanced themselves from Richard, and those who saw Ivy and Theo as traitors who’d betrayed family for publicity. The latter group was surprisingly large, and their whispers followed Ivy everywhere she went.
“Ignore them,” Naomi advised over coffee one morning. “Rich people always protect their own. They’re scared that if Richard can fall, so can they.”
“I know. It’s just exhausting.” Ivy scrolled through another email from a former colleague—this one rescinding a lunch invitation with a thinly veiled excuse. “I knew there would be consequences, but I didn’t expect to become a social pariah.”
“You’re not a pariah. You’re controversial. There’s a difference.” Naomi grinned. “Besides, you’ve got interview requests from three different companies. Your reputation as someone willing to stand up to corruption is actually an asset.”
That was true. While some doors had closed, others had opened—smaller firms, ethical companies, organizations that valued integrity over connections. Ivy had interviews lined up for the next week, and her prospects looked surprisingly solid.
Theo’s situation was more complicated. The fraud charges were still pending, requiring legal defense and court appearances. He’d been systematically cut off from Harrington Industries contacts, and the corporate world viewed him with suspicion—the son who’d turned on his father, potentially unreliable.
But he was handling it with the same strategic calm he brought to everything, networking quietly, leveraging his international business experience, slowly rebuilding a professional identity separate from Richard Harrington’s shadow.
“I have a meeting today,” Theo said, emerging from the bedroom in a sharp navy suit. “Consulting firm downtown. They’re interested in my experience with overseas acquisitions.”
“That’s great!” Ivy stood to kiss him, but he pulled away slightly, adjusting his tie.
“It’s preliminary. Might not go anywhere.” His tone was distant, distracted.
“Still. It’s progress.”
“Yeah.” But Theo was already checking his phone, his mind clearly elsewhere. “I’ll be back around six. Don’t wait up if I’m late.”
He left before Ivy could respond, and she stood in the kitchen feeling strangely dismissed. It wasn’t the first time—over the past few days, Theo had been increasingly withdrawn, his attention fractured. She’d assumed it was stress from the investigation, the pressure of rebuilding his life.
But something about this felt different.
The feeling crystallized that evening when Ivy’s phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number: Thought you should see this.
Attached was a photo taken at a restaurant—upscale, candlelit, intimate. Theo sat across the table from a stunning woman in a crimson dress, her hand on his arm, both of them laughing like they shared secrets.
Ivy’s stomach dropped.
She zoomed in on the photo, confirming it was definitely Theo, definitely recent based on the suit he’d worn today. The woman looked familiar—sleek dark hair, perfect makeup, the kind of polished beauty that came from wealth and maintenance.
A second text arrived: That’s Leila Cross. Theo’s ex. They dated for two years before you came along. Thought you should know he’s been seeing her again.
Leila Cross. The name triggered memory—Theo had mentioned her once, briefly, as someone from his past. But he’d implied it was ancient history, nothing relevant to their present.
Apparently that was a lie.
Ivy stared at the photo, jealousy and hurt warring in her chest. After everything they’d been through—losing jobs, facing investigations, choosing each other over family—Theo was having intimate dinners with his ex?
She tried calling him. It went straight to voicemail.
She texted: Can we talk when you get home?
No response.
By nine PM, Ivy was pacing Naomi’s apartment, anger building with each passing minute. By ten, she was furious. By eleven, when Theo finally walked through the door, she was ready to explode.
“Where have you been?” she demanded.
Theo stopped short, clearly not expecting an interrogation. “Meeting ran late. Then drinks with the team to discuss—”
“Drinks with Leila Cross?” Ivy held up her phone, showing him the photo. “Want to explain why you’re having romantic dinners with your ex and not mentioning it to me?”
Theo’s expression shifted—surprise, then something like guilt before he masked it. “Who sent you that?”
“Does it matter? Is it true?”
“It’s not what it looks like.”
“Really? Because it looks like you’re on a date with your gorgeous ex-girlfriend while I’m sitting at home like an idiot.” Sparks of jealousy fueling an enemies to lovers stepbrother romance ignited in Ivy’s chest, old insecurities flaring. “How long has this been going on?”
“Ivy, calm down—”
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Her voice rose despite her best efforts. “Three weeks ago, you told me I was worth everything. That you chose me. And now you’re sneaking around with Leila?”
“I’m not sneaking around.” Theo’s voice hardened defensively. “Leila reached out about a business opportunity. Her firm is looking for consultants, and she thought I’d be a good fit. That’s all.”
“A business opportunity that requires candlelit dinners?”
“It was a networking event at her company. She invited me as a professional courtesy.” Theo ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I didn’t mention it because I knew you’d react exactly like this—jealous and accusatory.”
“Maybe if you’d been honest instead of hiding it, I wouldn’t have to be jealous!” Ivy’s hands shook with anger and hurt. “Do you have any idea how it felt to get that photo from a stranger? To realize you’ve been lying to me?”
“I haven’t been lying. I just didn’t mention every professional meeting I take.” Theo’s voice was cold now, walls going up. “You don’t get to control my entire life, Ivy. We’re partners, not prison wardens.”
“Partners communicate. Partners don’t hide things.”
“Like you hid your evidence gathering from me for weeks?” Theo shot back. “Like you made unilateral decisions about confronting my father without discussing it first?”
The accusation stung because it was partially true. “That was different—”
“It’s not different. You want transparency when it suits you but expect privacy when it doesn’t. That’s not partnership, that’s hypocrisy.”
They stood facing each other across Naomi’s living room, the space between them charged with anger and hurt and all the stress of the past month finding an outlet.
“I can’t believe you’re making this about me,” Ivy said, her voice breaking. “You’re the one having secret dinners with your ex.”
“It wasn’t secret, it wasn’t romantic, and I’m done defending myself for having a professional life separate from us.” Theo grabbed his keys from the counter. “I’m going for a walk. We can talk when you’re ready to be rational.”
“Don’t you dare walk out on this conversation—”
But he was already gone, the door closing with controlled force that was somehow worse than slamming.
Ivy stood alone in the empty apartment, tears of frustration burning in her eyes. Naomi emerged from her room where she’d clearly been listening, her expression sympathetic.
“Want to talk about it?” she asked gently.
“He had dinner with his ex. A beautiful, successful ex who’s offering him job opportunities. And he didn’t tell me.” Ivy sank onto the couch, exhausted. “Am I crazy to be upset?”
“You’re not crazy.” Naomi settled beside her. “But Ivy, honey—you need to talk to him about the real issue.”
“The real issue is that he’s seeing Leila—”
“The real issue is that you’re terrified he’s going to leave you.” Naomi’s voice was gentle but firm. “You’ve both been under incredible stress. You’re living in my spare room, unemployed, facing investigations. That’s enough to strain any relationship. And instead of talking about your fears, you’re projecting them onto Leila.”
“I’m not projecting—”
“You are. Because it’s easier to be angry at him for having dinner with an ex than to admit you’re scared this whole situation is too much for your relationship to survive.” Naomi took Ivy’s hand. “Talk to him. Really talk, not just fight. Figure out what you’re both actually afraid of.”
Ivy wanted to argue, but Naomi was right. The jealousy was real, but underneath it was fear—that Theo would realize Ivy wasn’t worth the cost of his rebellion, that Leila’s polished perfection was more appealing than Ivy’s complicated mess, that three weeks of stress had exposed cracks in their foundation.
“What if he does choose her?” Ivy whispered. “What if I destroyed his life and he decides she’s the easier option?”
“Then he’s an idiot and you deserve better.” Naomi squeezed her hand. “But I don’t think that’s what’s happening. I think two people in love are under extreme pressure and taking it out on each other instead of the situation. Fix it, Ivy. Before jealousy destroys what you’ve built.”
Theo didn’t come back that night. Ivy lay awake in the guest room, staring at the ceiling, replaying the fight and hating every word she’d said. She’d accused him of lying, of sneaking around, of choosing Leila—all without giving him a chance to actually explain.
Naomi was right. She’d let jealousy override reason.
At two AM, her phone buzzed: I’m staying at a hotel tonight. We both need space to cool down. We’ll talk tomorrow.
Ivy typed and deleted three responses before settling on: Okay. I’m sorry for how I reacted. We should talk.
Three dots appeared, then disappeared. No response came.
She finally fell asleep around four, exhausted and miserable, and woke to find Naomi already gone for work and a note on the kitchen counter: Give him space. He’ll come back when he’s ready. Love you. —N
The day dragged. Ivy had a phone interview at eleven that went poorly—she was too distracted, her answers unfocused. She tried to work on her portfolio, but her mind kept drifting to Theo. Where was he? Was he with Leila? Had last night been the beginning of the end?
At three PM, her phone rang. Not Theo—Claire.
“Mom?” Ivy answered, surprised.
“I read the SEC report.” Claire’s voice was tight, controlled. “The preliminary findings. You were right. About Richard. About everything.”
Ivy’s breath caught. “Mom—”
“I need to apologize.” Claire’s voice cracked. “I chose him over you. I didn’t believe you, didn’t support you, and you were right all along. I’m so sorry, Ivy. I’m so sorry.”
Tears burned Ivy’s eyes. “It’s okay. I understand why—”
“It’s not okay. You’re my daughter. I should have trusted you, believed in you, stood by you. Instead I…” Claire trailed off, emotion overwhelming her. “I’ve left him. Moved out, filed for divorce. My lawyer says the prenup will protect me from most of the legal fallout, but Ivy, I just… I wanted you to know I’m sorry. And I love you. And if you can forgive me—”
“Of course I forgive you.” Ivy was crying now too, relief flooding through her. “Mom, I love you too. I never wanted to hurt you, I just needed the truth—”
“I know. I understand now.” Claire’s voice steadied slightly. “Can we have lunch? Tomorrow? I want to hear about everything—the investigation, Theo, all of it. I want to be the mother I should have been from the start.”
“Yes. Lunch tomorrow. I’d love that.”
They talked for another twenty minutes, Claire apologizing and Ivy reassuring, building bridges that had been burned by Richard’s manipulation. When they finally hung up, Ivy felt lighter—one relationship healed, even if another was fracturing.
At six PM, Theo finally came home. He looked exhausted, his suit rumpled like he’d slept in it, his expression guarded.
“Hi,” Ivy said from the couch.
“Hi.” Theo set down his bag, maintaining distance. “Can we talk?”
“Please.”
They settled in the living room, careful space between them on the couch. Theo spoke first.
“I should have told you about Leila reaching out. You’re right—we’re partners, and I should have communicated instead of assuming you’d overreact.” He met her gaze. “But Ivy, you need to understand—Leila is my past. A serious past, yes. We dated for two years, and breaking up with her was one of the hardest things I did. But that’s over. She’s offering me professional opportunities because she knows I’m good at what I do, not because she wants to rekindle anything.”
“Then why didn’t you just tell me?” Ivy asked quietly.
“Because I knew you’d see her as a threat. Because we’re both stressed and I didn’t want to add relationship drama on top of everything else.” Theo’s expression was pained. “And because honestly, it felt good to have something—someone—in my life who wasn’t connected to the Richard disaster. Who could look at me as Theo the consultant instead of Theo the guy who destroyed his father’s empire.”
The honesty cut deep. “You resent me.”
“No. God, no.” Theo finally closed the distance between them, taking her hands. “I resent the situation. I resent that everything in my life right now is defined by what happened with Richard. But I don’t resent you. I love you, Ivy. That hasn’t changed.”
“But you needed space from me. From us.”
“I needed space from the pressure,” Theo corrected. “From constantly being ‘Richard Harrington’s son’ or ‘the guy in that scandal.’ With Leila, I could just be me for a few hours. That’s all it was.”
Sparks of jealousy fueling an enemies to lovers stepbrother romance still flickered, but Ivy forced herself to listen, to understand. “I’m sorry I freaked out. I saw that photo and I just… I got scared. That you’d realize she’s easier, that I’m too much trouble, that losing everything for me wasn’t worth it.”
“Ivy.” Theo cupped her face, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You’re worth it. Leila is beautiful and successful and completely drama-free. And I don’t want her. I want you—complicated, fierce, impossible you. Because you’re real. Because you see me, not just the Harrington name. Because choosing you was the first real choice I’ve made in six years.”
“Even when it’s hard?”
“Especially when it’s hard.” Theo’s smile was crooked, fond. “Easy doesn’t mean better. And we’re not easy, Ivy. We’re messy and intense and probably terrible for each other on paper. But I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m with you. So no, I’m not choosing Leila. I’m choosing us. Every time.”
The declaration broke open something in Ivy’s chest. She kissed him, desperate and apologetic and claiming all at once. Theo responded immediately, pulling her into his lap, his hands tangling in her hair.
“I’m sorry,” Ivy gasped against his mouth. “I’m sorry for not trusting you, for jumping to conclusions—”
“I’m sorry for not communicating,” Theo murmured between kisses. “For making you feel like you couldn’t trust me. We have to do better, Ivy. Both of us.”
“We will. We’ll figure it out.” She pulled back just enough to see his face, seeing love and exhaustion and determination there. “Together?”
“Always together.” Theo kissed her again, thorough and claiming. “You and me against jealousy, stress, and whatever else tries to tear us apart.”
They made love in the guest room with renewed urgency, proving to each other that they were solid, that jealousy hadn’t won, that their relationship could survive storms. And afterward, wrapped in each other as evening fell over Brooklyn, Ivy felt the last of her fear ease.
“My mom called,” she said quietly. “She’s left Richard. Filed for divorce. She apologized.”
“That’s good,” Theo murmured into her hair. “One relationship healed.”
“And ours almost broken.”
“But not broken. Tested, maybe. But not broken.” Theo’s arms tightened. “We’re stronger than jealousy, Ivy. We survived Richard. We can survive anything.”
Ivy wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that love was enough to weather every storm. But she also knew that three weeks of stress had nearly destroyed them—and there were months of investigations, trials, and rebuilding ahead.
“Promise me something,” she said.
“Anything.”
“Promise that when it gets hard—when the pressure builds and we want to run—we talk. We communicate. We don’t let fear or jealousy or stress make decisions for us.”
“I promise.” Theo pulled back to look at her seriously. “And you promise the same. No more walls, no more shutting me out when you’re scared. We face everything together.”
“Together,” Ivy agreed.
They held each other as night fell, the city alive beyond the windows, the future uncertain but theirs to build. Proof their forbidden attraction can’t be denied pulsed between them—jealousy had tested them, but love had won.
For now, that was enough.
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