“Home?” Ivy turned her gaze to her mother, her tone Icy. “Do you really think I can go back?”
She’d already laid out irrefutable evidence, yet still couldn’t convince them of Emma’s poisonous schemes.
What was the point of returning to a place like that?
“Mom!” Baillie’s voice called from outside. Rosetta gave her eldest daughter a look filled with pain before turning away and leaving.
The enormous mansion felt suddenly colder, emptier.
Micah’s parents lingered, exchanging quiet words with Jamison. Then Carla walked over to Ivy.
“Ivy…” Carla’s expression was complicated, a mix of apology and concern as she faced her son’s former girlfriend.
Ivy’s face remained calm. “Is there something you need, Mrs. Ludwig?”
Carla hesitated, then asked, “Were you really kidnapped because Emma worked with those traffickers?”
Ivy looked at her, understanding dawned–Micah’s parents were starting to doubt
Emma.
So, today’s drama hadn’t been for nothing.
“Yes. I heard it with my own ears back then. Emma admitted it herself today.”
Carla nodded slowly. “Alright. Thank you.”
She turned away, murmured a few words to Jamison, then left with her husband.
Katrina glanced at her best friend. “Should we get out of here?”
Ivy reconsidered, a sly smile curving her lips. “There’s still food, and we’ve already paid for it. We might as well enjoy the meal before we go.” She was in high spirits–what better way to celebrate than with a feast?
“Absolutely!” Katrina grinned too, then waved over the boys and the hired security guards. “Come on, everyone, eat up–you all deserve it after today.”
As Ivy turned toward the dining room, she caught a tall, striking figure standing off to the side. She couldn’t help but smile, her tone teasing as she called out, “Dr.
1/4 the side. She co
11:52
Ludwig, are you still lingering after the show’s over?”
Jamison’s lips twitched in that famillar, elegant half–smile, With his composed features relaxed, there was something undeniably charming about him.
Of course, that was only true when he kept his mouth shut.
“Miss Ivy, your schemes are impressive. In another era, you’d have been a master at court intrigue,” Jamison said, genuine admiration in his tone.
Ivy gave him a level look. “Is that a compliment? Aren’t you angry that I just humiliated your nephew’s wife?”
He didn’t answer, but his gaze drifted to her exposed arm. His voice was quiet, but there was a note of concern. “You should see a doctor about that. Autoimmune conditions aren’t easy to treat. If you let it get worse, it’ll only be more trouble.”
Without waiting for a reply, Jamison turned and walked away.
Ivy watched his dignified figure retreat, her eyes darkening thoughtfully.
Katrina whistled, impressed. “That Dr. Ludwig is something else. He just glanced at you from across the room and figured out you have an autoimmune disease.”
Ivy didn’t say anything, but a strange feeling stirred inside her.
Since she’d come back, apart from Katrina, only Jamison had believed she didn’t
have HIV.
Maybe it was the way she’d devoured everything at dinner, but that night Ivy’s rash flared up worse than ever.
The Windsor family called several times, but she ignored all of them.
Her skin itched so badly she’d scratched herself raw, her nerves frayed and her patience gone. She had no energy to deal with anyone.
Eventually, she lay soaking in a cold bath, finally feeling a little relief.
Her phone kept chiming with WhatsApp messages.
She reached for it from the edge of the tub and opened the group chat.
No wonder everyone was so lively–Dr. Handsome was online.
Ivy wasn’t in the mood for small talk, but seeing Dr. Handsome’s name made her eyebrows knit together.
11.03 WHE
Maybe… she should ask him. He’d definitely know the best dermatologist around.
She opened a private chat.
Mrs. Smith: Dr. Handsome, sorry to bother you again. Could you recommend the best dermatology clinic?
Over at the Ludwig estate, Jamison had just been wrangled into family dinner and was now bored out of his mind.
A WhatsApp notification popped up–it was Mrs. Smith. His fingers paused, and he tapped the message open.
His face froze as he read it, eyes locked on the screen.
Dermatology?
Immediately, images of Ivy’s rash flickered through his mind…
Could it be a coincidence?
His heart gave a strange little leap. Sitting up straighter, he typed a careful reply.
Dr. Handsome: What kind of skin condition do have?
you
Ivy’s spirits lifted at his quick response. She was about to tell the truth, but then hesitated and typed:
Not me. I’m asking for a friend. She’s got a rash–her doctor said it’s pityriasis rosea, gave her some meds, but nothing’s working.
Jamison stared at the screen, feeling more than shocked.
He’d guessed during the day that Ivy’s rash was probably pityriasis rosea.
Could it be… Ivy is Mrs. Smith?
All at once, a hundred little details flashed through his mind.
Mrs. Smith had vanished from social media for three years–the same three years Ivy had been missing.
Mrs. Smith had severe cramps; so did Ivy.
Mrs. Smith once asked his advice about gynecologists; Ivy had recently seen Professor Penn.
And Ivy’s sudden wealth–he’d always wondered about the source, half–convincer was a gift from his nephew.
11.52
But if Ivy was Mrs. Smith, it would all make sense.
Mrs. Smith had made a fortune trading stocks over the years.
And there was more…
Lining up all the clues, Jamison suddenly felt like a complete fool.