Chapter 13

Ivy was in the middle of changing her bedsheets when the bedroom door was suddenly kicked open, making her jump.

She turned around, her expression calm. “What’s the matter, big brother? Oh, I heard my sister shouting – did something happen?”

Baillie looked ready to barge in and give his younger sister a piece of his mind. But then he remembered she had HIV. Hesitation flickered across his face, and he even took a step back.

“Ivy! That was way out of line! Was it you who put dog poop on Emma’s bed?” Baillie’s voice was loud and angry, but he sounded more bluster than bite.

Adkins and Micah had come downstairs as well, determined to stand up for Emma.

Ivy frowned and looked genuinely confused. “What are you talking about? What dog poop?”

Adkins snapped, “Don’t play dumb! Who else could it have been but you?”

Ivy tilted her head, feigning innocence. “I haven’t even left my room. What could I have done? You were all in the living room – did any of you see me go out?”

The three of them fell silent, unable to answer.

Micah asked, “And where’s the dog poop from your bed?”

Without missing a beat, Ivy picked up the trash bin and held it out to them. “Here you go. Want a bite?”

Adkins, Baillie, and Micah glanced inside, their faces twisting with disgust – almost as if they’d been forced to taste it themselves.

Ivy turned back to her room, calmly continuing to change her sheets. “Sometimes puppies misbehave and make a mess. If you want to blame someone, try training the dog instead of coming after me.”

She’d just thrown Micah’s own words back at him, word for word.

The three men exchanged looks, jaws clenched, simmering with frustration – yet powerless to do anything.

They were convinced Ivy was behind it, but they had no proof and couldn’t fathom how she’d pulled it off.

They even began to wonder if, after spending years in those remote mountain villages, Ivy had ‘picked up’ some kind of dark art. How else could she have managed to sneak dog poop onto Emma’s bed without anyone noticing?

It made no sense…

In the end, all they could do was go back upstairs to comfort Emma.

Ivy finished changing her sheets and carried the trash outside.

On her way back in, she glanced at the luxurious doghouse in the backyard, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corner of her lips.

Upstairs, Emma was still sobbing.

No one knew that, while everyone else was having dinner, Ivy had slipped out through the tiny window of the maid’s room – a feat only possible because she was so thin she was practically skin and bones.

She’d snuck into the doghouse and scooped up a fresh pile of dog poop.

Then, using the doghouse as a foothold, she’d climbed up to the second-floor window – straight into Emma’s room.

After three years of captivity, she’d tried to escape countless times and could climb walls with practiced ease.

A second-story window was nothing. Child’s play.

Meanwhile, Jamison had just finished a grueling six-hour surgery to save a car accident victim, finally wrapping up after eight in the evening.

The operation had gone well, but the patient was still in the ICU, facing a critical twenty-four-hour window.

After making arrangements for his patient, Jamison was finally done for the day.

His mentor’s son – and his close friend – Naylor Wilson pulled up to the curb to pick him up.

“Well done, Professor Ludwig. Another life saved,” Naylor said with a grin, swinging open the passenger door like a loyal sidekick.

Jamison looked exhausted, his gaze cool and distant. “Too soon to tell. It’s up to fate now.”

Naylor shut the door and walked around to the driver’s seat, full of confidence. “With you around, even the Grim Reaper doesn’t stand a chance. I have faith in you.”

He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through messages, falling silent.

“What do you want to eat?” Naylor asked.

“Whatever.”

“Leave it to me, then.”

Jamison lapsed back into silence, eyes fixed on his own phone, brows knitting in concern.

At a red light, Naylor glanced over and suddenly snorted. “Another sea of red?”

Turns out Jamison was checking his stock portfolio – every single holding deep in the red.

Jamison’s face darkened.

Naylor laughed. “The market’s been great lately. I made nearly a hundred grand this month. How do you manage to pick so many deadbeat stocks, man?”