The Mercer Brothers

Ivy’s POV

The sound of a silk tie sliding through a collar was usually a sound of intimacy. Tonight, it sounded like a noose tightening.

I sat on the edge of the California King bed, my hands folded in my lap. The pristine white sheets were smooth, unwrinkled, just like everything else in our penthouse. Just like my life. Or at least, the life I had pretended to have for the last three years.

Grant stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirror, adjusting his cufflinks. He didn't look at me. He rarely looked at me anymore, unless we were at a gala and he needed the perfect senator’s daughter on his arm.

"It’s better this way, Ivy," he said, his voice casual, as if he were discussing the dinner menu rather than the demolition of our marriage. "Monogamy is... archaic. Especially in my line of work. I have needs. Stress relief."

I dug my nails into my palms. "Needs that half the women in your office can satisfy?"

Grant finally turned. His handsome face, the one that had won over voters and my father, was devoid of shame. He smirked, a cold, calculating tilt of his lips. "Don't be dramatic. It’s just sex. It doesn't mean I don't care about our partnership."

Partnership. Not marriage. Not love. Partnership.

"I didn't agree to this," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I didn't agree to an open marriage, Grant."

He walked over, looming above me. He didn't touch me. He hadn't touched me in months. "You don't have to agree, Ivy. You just have to accept it. You like the house, don't you? The black card? The status? This is the price." He checked his Rolex. "I’ll be late. Don't wait up. Jessica from PR is… efficient."

He grabbed his jacket and walked out the door without a backward glance.

The silence that followed was deafening. I sat there, frozen, the humiliation washing over me like ice water. I had played the good girl. I had buried the wild, reckless part of myself six years ago when my brother died. I had become the perfect doll for Grant, thinking safety was better than passion.

I was wrong. Safety was a cage.

I stood up and walked to the mirror. The woman staring back was pale, fragile, broken. I hated her.

"No," I said to the empty room.

I walked into the massive walk-in closet. I pushed past the pastel dresses and sensible heels Grant liked. I went to the back, to a dusty box I hadn't opened since college.

I pulled out a dress. It was black, short, and made of a material that looked like liquid midnight. It was a relic from a life I had abandoned. A life where I wasn't Ivy the politician's wife, but Ivy, the girl who drag-raced on weekends and hung out with the only people my father hated.

The Mercer Brothers.

The thought of them sent a jolt of electricity down my spine. Dangerous. Wealthy. Criminal. They were my brother’s best friends. They were the kings of the city’s underworld. And they were the ones who told me to run, to find a nice guy, to stay away from the darkness.

Well, I listened. I found the nice guy. And he just cut my heart out.

I stripped off my silk robe and pulled on the black dress. It was tighter than I remembered. It clung to my curves, the neckline plunging low enough to make Grant have an aneurysm. I applied dark red lipstick, the color of dried blood. I let my hair down, shaking out the perfect curls until they were a chaotic wave.

I grabbed the keys to the vintage Porsche Grant kept in the garage for show—the one he never drove because he was afraid to scratch it.

I wasn't going to cry tonight. I wasn't going to sit here and wait for my husband to come home smelling like another woman.

If he wanted an open marriage, he was going to get one. But I wasn't looking for a partner. I was looking for a weapon. I was looking for something to make me feel alive again, even if it burned me to ash.

I revved the engine, the roar filling the garage. As I peeled out onto the street, leaving tire marks on the pristine driveway, I knew exactly where I was going.

The Abyss. The most exclusive, dangerous club in the city. The place where the monsters played.

Tonight, I wasn't the prey. I was the bait.