As the third-largest city in America, Chicago in the dead of night is both dazzlingly decadent and fraught with danger.
Bruce lay on the large bed in Ivanka’s apartment, his sweat gradually cooling as his breathing slowed and steadied.
The air still lingered with the scent of their recent passion, a mixture of the lavender essential oil Ivanka habitually used and the smell of gunpowder that Bruce brought with him.
Ivanka lay on her side, completely naked, a soft silk blanket draped over their chests.
Her fingers lightly brushed across Bruce’s arm and chest.
“You fulfilled your promise from this morning.” Ivanka’s voice sounded exceptionally soft in the darkness, like a feather brushing against skin.
“I promised you.” Bruce held her hand, closing his eyes to feel the delicate touch while also recovering his strength.
“You killed someone today.” Ivanka was not asking; she was stating a fact.
This was the instinct of a Psychologist, combined with her understanding of Bruce, which allowed her to read the truth from the slightest emotional shifts.
“I saved someone.” Bruce answered briefly, looking straight into Ivanka’s eyes.
Neil Vance’s crazed face flashed through his mind, followed by the sensation of pulling the trigger, the trajectory of the bullet piercing the air, and finally, the dull thud of Neil’s body hitting the ground.
However, this time he truly felt no psychological pressure, no repression, no pretense; everything was so natural.
He didn’t know if this change was due to Ivanka’s psychological counseling or their passion.
Ivanka, lying beside him, turned onto her back, staring at the halo of light projected from outside the window onto the ceiling, and suddenly said: “My father has killed people too.”
Bruce turned his head to look at her.
In the less than a week they had known each other, Ivanka rarely spoke about her family.
He only vaguely knew that she came from a wealthy family in New York and had moved to Chicago to escape an arranged marriage; everything else was a mystery, and he hadn’t asked.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Bruce’s hand slowly climbed up to Ivanka’s shoulder.
The question Ivanka asked him most often over the past few days was now being asked by him in return.
The silence lasted for nearly half a minute before Ivanka began to speak, her voice as calm as if she were telling someone else’s story.
“My father’s name is Brian, and after he married my mother, Bella Anderson, he changed his surname to Anderson to inherit the Anderson family business.” Ivanka stared at the ceiling, her fingers unconsciously gripping Bruce’s fingers.
“My mother, Bella, was an artist who loved painting watercolors and was so innocent she was almost otherworldly.
She loved Brian very much, believed his sweet words, and handed the company over to him to manage, while she only focused on charity and the art foundation.”
“Before my eighteenth birthday, my mother promised to give me a portrait she had painted herself.”
Ivanka’s calm voice cracked for the first time, laced with a hint of anger.
“She went to our lakeside villa, saying she needed to find inspiration.
However, two days later, on the very day of my eighteenth birthday, the police called to say she had drowned.
The railing of the lakeside pier had broken, she fell, hit her head on a rock, and died there.”
Bruce gripped Ivanka’s hand tightly, feeling the coldness of her skin.
“The autopsy result said it was an accident.
The police also said it was an accident caused by the railings being in disrepair and the wooden planks being slippery due to the rain that day.” Ivanka let out a cold laugh, a laugh devoid of warmth.
“But do you know?
That villa is maintained by professionals every week, and the railings had just been replaced three months ago.
Besides, my mother was afraid of water and would never go near the lake on a rainy day.”
“So, you suspect…”
“However, less than a month later, Brian married that bitch Regina,” Ivanka continued, her voice becoming cold, hard, and even a bit grating.
“Twenty-two years old, eighteen years younger than Brian, and she used to be his executive assistant.
At the wedding, that bitch was even wearing my mother’s pearl necklace, which was an heirloom my grandmother had left to my mother.”
Bruce could imagine the scene.
A young girl who had just lost her mother had to watch her father impatiently marry a new wife, who was even wearing her mother’s jewelry.
That wasn’t just betrayal; it was naked desecration.
“Then they started arranging my life.” Ivanka turned to Bruce, her eyes reflecting the faint light from outside the window in the darkness.
“They wanted me to marry a senator’s son.
That man was ten years older than me and had three prior records of domestic violence, but they were all suppressed by his senator father.
Brian said it was a’strategic marriage’ that would be good for the company and the family.”
“Yes, I ran away.” Ivanka nodded in response, her voice returning to a flat tone.
“I took the trust fund my mother left me, came to Chicago for college, and opened my own counseling office after graduation.”
“But for all these years, I have been secretly investigating my mother’s death.”
“Hiring private investigators, checking records, contacting witnesses from back then.”
“But every time there was progress, the trail would go cold.
Witnesses would change their stories, records would ‘go missing,’ and private investigators would suddenly resign.”
Ivanka stated this loudly, her speech rapid, her tone revealing struggle, unwillingness to accept defeat, and anger.
Alarm bells rang in Bruce’s mind; this was no longer a typical wealthy family drama—this was a planned cover-up, likely involving a crime.
“What did you find?” Bruce believed that given Ivanka’s behavior, she must have discovered something, but it had been cut off by someone.
Ivanka sat up and turned on the bedside lamp.
Under the soft light, her face appeared both fragile and resolute.
“A week before my mother passed away, she changed her will.
She left 51% of the company’s shares to me, not my father.
But the new will ‘disappeared’ after she died, and the court simply followed the old will, giving all the group’s shares to Brian.”
Bruce also sat up.
Now he understood; this wasn’t just a simple marital betrayal—it was a planned intrusion and forced seizure.
A multi-billion dollar family business, control, ownership—yet there was an inconvenient wife in the way.
Murder, changing the will—it was a cliché but real script.
“Does he know you are investigating?” Bruce asked the biggest question on his mind.
He was curious why Ivanka’s father hadn’t harmed her when she was young.
“He knows.” Ivanka gave a bitter smile, though beneath the smile was anger that could hardly be contained.
“He even called me, his tone kind and affectionate, urging me to let go of the past and come back to help with the family business.”
“When I said no, he hinted that ‘accidents might happen, just like your mother’s’.”
This sentence sent a chill down Bruce’s spine.
He had experienced street shootouts, knife-point hostage situations, and bomb threats; he wasn’t afraid of those.
As a police officer, these were already part of his daily routine.
But this kind of cold-blooded threat from a closest kin had an indescribable terror.
“Why not call the police?” Bruce asked instinctively, but immediately realized his question was stupid.
The answer was obvious: money and power.
“Call the police?” Ivanka shook her head, got out of bed, and walked slowly toward the liquor cabinet.
“He used to be just an upstart.
But now, he is the Mayor of New York, and I heard he is even preparing to run for Governor, and the State Prosecutor is his college roommate.”
Bruce fell silent.
He had seen how power could distort justice and had witnessed how money could buy testimony.
At the Chicago South Side police station, he fought against this reality every day.
Suddenly, a thought flashed through his mind.
Clear, sharp, and impossible to ignore.
He stared straight at Ivanka as she walked over with a glass of wine.
“That is the reason why you approached me, right?”
This question was like a knife, cutting through the air in the room and causing Ivanka’s expression to freeze for a moment.
“Hank said that you were hard to book, and your clients were all big shots with status.
At first, I thought it was Hank who made the appointment, but now it seems you were the one who approached me.” Bruce ignored Ivanka’s frozen expression and continued, speaking to himself.
“So, you chose a police officer, a cop who just solved several tricky cases and proved his ability.” Bruce stated slowly, his voice calm but every word heavy like a weight.
“Not just any cop, but me.
Because you needed someone to help you investigate, and I have the ability and am easy to approach.
I just transferred to Chicago; I have no background, no ties.”
Ivanka looked at him, those usually warm eyes now unfathomable. Find the original chapter at g.com.
Then she smiled, not a smile of pleasure, but a smile of relief and frankness.
“You are very sharp, Bruce, sharper than any Psychologist I have ever met.” Ivanka admitted, without any defense.
“Yes, I first noticed you because of your case records.
That drug dealer kidnapping case, that counterfeit money case, the arms smuggling case, the drug smuggling case.
You solved four tricky cases in a short time, and it was always you who found the key clues.”
Bruce’s heart sank; he did not like people who approached him with an agenda.
“But that was the beginning.” Ivanka reached out to stroke his face, her movements gentle.
“If I only needed a detective, I would hire the best one, not sleep with him.”
The directness of her words left Bruce stunned.
“Listen,” Ivanka sat up straight, her eyes looking directly into Bruce’s eyes, locking gazes just like when she had an important conversation with him in the clinic.
“I am a lesbian.
At least, until I met you, I always was.”
Bruce blinked.
He really hadn’t expected this turn of events; it almost made him throw his back out.
“Really, since puberty, I have only had feelings for women.” Ivanka said frankly, watching Bruce’s wide eyes, almost laughing out loud.
“I had two girlfriends in college and had brief connections after graduation.
But men have never sparked my interest, until I saw you.”
“So, yes, I admit my initial motive for approaching you was not pure.” Ivanka knelt beside Bruce, cupping his cheeks with both hands, and admitted it generously.
“But the feelings are also real.
It’s the first time I’ve felt desire and attachment toward a man, which surprised even me.”
“But you don’t want a traditional relationship.” Bruce said suddenly, not in an interrogative tone, but as a statement.
Ivanka’s eyes turned sad.
“My mother loved that man very much, married him, and even gave him everything.
And the result?
She died, was replaced, and was forgotten.
I don’t want to repeat the same mistake.
I won’t marry anyone, I won’t change my surname to someone else’s, and I won’t hand my life over to someone else.”
Ivanka took a deep breath, looked straight into Bruce’s eyes, and then said something even more shocking.
“I won’t demand your loyalty.
You can see other women, as long as you don’t bring them here and don’t let me see it.
And you must take precautions; I don’t want you to get sick.”
Bruce stared at her, unsure if he had misheard.
“Are you giving me permission for an open relationship?”
“I am stating reality,” Ivanka did not dodge, looking straight into his eyes.
“I love you, Bruce.
I never thought I would fall in love with a man before, but I want to be with you, share a bed, share a life, share secrets.
But I won’t become ‘Mrs.
Stacey,’ I won’t give up my career to move into your apartment, and I won’t play the role of the docile girlfriend at police department parties.”
Ivanka squeezed his hand, her tone carrying a hint of imperceptible pleading.
“If you want a traditional wife and children, then I am not that person.
If you can accept me as I am—a lesbian Psychologist investigating her mother’s murder, a woman who needs space and will also give you space—then we can try.”
Bruce leaned back against the headboard, his brain working at high speed, processing the information he had just received.
This was too crazy.
He had only known her for four days, and now she had confessed that her initial motives were impure, confessed her sexual orientation, confessed an open relationship, and revealed an extremely dangerous family case.