Ivy stared at the screen, her chat still frozen on her last message. No reply. She frowned, puzzled.
What happened? The conversation had been going so well–why the sudden radio silence?
Maybe he got called into another late shift? Doctors always seemed to be on call for something.
She sighed, scrolling back through their chat history, reading their exchanges for the umpteenth time. When she realized what she was doing, embarrassment hit her like a splash of cold water.
Seriously, Ivy?
Are you actually waiting for a guy to text you back–online, no less? Have you lost your mind?
Hadn’t she learned her lesson with men by now? And this was just some guy on the internet. For all she knew, the charming username belonged to a balding, beer–bellied retiree in his basement.
Doctors, after all, led high–stress lives, pulling insane hours and overnight shifts. Even if this one was attractive, a few years on the job would wreck anyone, no matter how good they looked at first.
Not everyone could be like Jamison–born into privilege, working just to pass the time.
The next morning, Ivy was jolted awake by her phone ringing.
Of course–it was the Windsors. Her brother, Baillie.
No use running from it. This time, she answered.
“What is it?”
“Ivy, when are you moving out?” Baillie didn’t waste time.
She let out a cold laugh. “What’s your rush? Is Emma threatening to throw herself down the stairs again?”
“This isn’t about Emma,” Baillie said, his tone clipped. “I’m the one asking. Lauren won’t take me back. She says as long as you’re living with the Windsors, she won’t
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Chapter 112
even consider it.”
Ivy couldn’t help but laugh again, but this time it was sharper. So her brother was actually lovesick–still hung up on Lauren after all this time.
Seems her old rival was determined to become her sister–in–law.
“What is it with you men and manipulative women?” Ivy shot back. “All it takes is a pout and a fake little giggle and you lose your minds.”
“Don’t talk about Lauren like that! Women are supposed to be sweet, gentle, and delicate–not prickly and combative like you. You’re impossible to deal with!”
The irony stung. Three years ago, Ivy had been the darling of Neo Haven’s high society–talented, brilliant, every accomplishment lauded. She’d been proud, a little spoiled, but everyone fawned over her and called her irresistible.
Now, even after surviving the unthinkable, when she needed her family most, there wasn’t an ounce of warmth or concern. All she got was blame–told she was stubborn, difficult, impossible.
This was what people meant when they said everything changes.
The words she wanted to hurl back caught in her throat. Ivy paused, then said quietly, “I’ll come by tomorrow and settle everything.”
Before Baillie could reply, she hung up.
Even though she’d made up her mind to cut ties, a heaviness lingered. That house had been her home for twenty years, Those people were her own flesh and blood.
Now she had to walk away, turn her family into strangers. Who could do that and not feel anything?
After breakfast, Ivy’s Maserati was returned. Having her car back made everything
easier.
Last night, Dr. Handsome had sent her the schedule for one of the hospital’s top specialists. There happened to be an opening this morning.
Ivy grabbed her bag and headed to the hospital to register in person.
Katrina was tied up today, so Ivy went alone.
While she waited for her number to be called, she kept herself busy–checking her stocks, making another round of trades. The chat in her investment group was still going strong, and she chimed in every now and then.