Chapter 4 IVY MORGAN'S POV

"You're just going to stand there like that call didn't happen?"

Nicholas's face was unreadable. The phone sat on the desk between us like a live grenade.

"I'm trying to think," he said.

"You're doing that thing again where you go full robot."

"Ivy."

"No, I'm serious. Someone just said your daughter sees too much and you're thinking? You should be freaking out."

"I don't freak out."

"Well maybe you should start. Because that voice sounded like it crawled out of a horror movie."

He finally looked at me. "You heard the same thing I did?"

"Every word."

He picked up the phone, checked the screen, and then set it back down. "No number. No trace."

"You're telling me a billionaire doesn't have some hacker friend on standby for anonymous calls?"

"I'll have security pull the logs."

"Great. While you do that, maybe I'll just go lock myself in the bathroom and scream."

His voice dropped. "Don't joke."

"I'm not. Your fake fiancée is terrified. Congratulations."

"I won't let anything happen to you."

I crossed my arms. "And Lena?"

He paused.

"That's what I thought," I said. "Whoever that was, they know about her. They mentioned her. That's not random."

He walked over to the windows and stared out. "It could've been someone bluffing."

"Or someone who knows what happened to Eliza."

He flinched.

"Tell me what's going on," I said. "All of it."

He didn't answer.

"Nick."

"Ivy."

We stared at each other.

He exhaled. "Eliza didn't just get sick. Her illness came fast. No symptoms, no warning. By the time doctors figured it out, it was too late."

"That's not suspicious?"

"It was, apparently. There was an inquiry after she died. Someone claimed I'd changed her medication. That I paid the hospital to cover it up."

I blinked. "Did you?"

"No. But once those kinds of accusations start, they don't stop."

"Is that what the tipster said?"

He nodded. "I never saw the full report. Just fragments."

"And now the voice says Lena sees too much. Which implies this isn't over."

"Or that someone wants me to believe it's not."

I walked over to the desk and picked up the phone. "We need to trace it."

"I already said-"

"Let me make a call."

He watched me.

"I used to date a journalist," I said. "Paranoid guy. He traced every number that called him after midnight. I bet he still owes me a favor."

Nicholas didn't stop me. He just watched while I dialed.

"Derek. It's Ivy."

A pause, then a groan. "Ivy Morgan. What did you break?"

"I need a trace."

"This better not be for a story. I'm still blacklisted at the Times because of your last pitch."

"It's not for a story. It's personal."

"Who pissed you off?"

"An anonymous caller."

"Threats?"

"Something like that."

"I need the number."

"It was blocked."

"I can still work with that. Forward the metadata if you have it."

"You'll get it in five."

He grunted. "You owe me."

"I always do."

I hung up.

Nicholas tilted his head. "Derek?"

"Ex. Likes bourbon and conspiracy theories. I'll buy him both."

"If this leads to anything-"

"It will."

We stood in silence for a moment.

"Do you really think someone killed your wife?" I asked.

His voice was low. "I think someone wanted her quiet."

"Why?"

"She found something. Something she wasn't supposed to see."

"Like what?"

He walked to a locked drawer, pulled out a slim folder, and handed it to me.

I opened it.

"Medical records?"

"Eliza requested copies of files not related to her own health. She asked questions about pharmaceutical donations. Unusual billing. Two doctors resigned within weeks."

"What was she looking for?"

"I don't know. But I think she found it."

"Did she tell anyone?"

"She started acting paranoid. She told me someone was watching her. That our daughter wasn't safe."

"And you didn't take her seriously?"

"I thought she was just scared. I told her she needed rest."

"And then she died."

He looked down. "Yes."

I swallowed. "And now Lena could be next."

"No. I won't let that happen."

"Then we need to figure this out. Fast."

His phone buzzed. A text.

He read it. His expression changed.

"Security found something."

"What?"

"The nanny. She's missing."

I felt my mouth go dry. "Missing as in fired or missing as in gone?"

"She didn't show up this morning. No message. No call. Her phone's off."

"Do you think she was involved?"

"I don't know."

"She was with Lena yesterday."

"I know."

"Have you checked her background?"

"She passed every check."

"Not well enough, apparently."

Nicholas was already texting.

"We need to go to her apartment," I said.

"I'll send security."

"I'm coming."

He gave me a look. "You don't need to-"

"I'm coming."

He didn't argue.

We pulled up to a brownstone on the Upper West Side. Quiet block. Too clean.

Nicholas's security team was already there.

"She hasn't been home," one of them said. "Mail's stacked. Lights out. No sign of forced entry."

"We're going in," Nicholas said.

The guy hesitated. "We need a warrant."

"She works for me. I'm checking on her well-being."

That seemed to be enough.

The door opened.

Inside, everything was too neat. No clutter. No dishes. No clothes out.

"She left in a hurry or she never lived here," I said.

We split up. I checked the bedroom.

Closet empty.

Drawers empty.

"She cleared out," I called.

Nicholas appeared in the doorway. "She was planted."

"By who?"

"I don't know."

We heard a noise from the hallway.

Both of us were still.

Then a voice. "Step outside. Hands up."

Nicholas looked at me. "That's the NYPD."

I felt panic crawl up my throat. "What do we do?"

"Comply."

We walked out slowly.

Three officers stood with weapons drawn.

"Mr. Thorne?" one asked.

"Yes."

"Put your hands where we can see them."

He did.

I followed.

"Step away from the woman."

"Why?" Nicholas asked.

"You're being detained for questioning."

"What the hell for?"

The officer pulled something from his belt. A small clear bag.

Inside was a watch.

Tiny. Pink.

Lena's.

"We found this in the dumpster behind the building," the cop said.

I stepped forward. "Why is that a problem?"

The cop looked at me. "Because there's dried blood on it."