“What are you doing here?” Emma’s voice shot up an octave, sharp and incredulous.

Ivy turned, a dress draped over her arm, her tone casual and cool. “Why shouldn’t I be here? Is this your store or something?”

Emma’s eyes swept over her from head to toe, then she gave a cold, mocking laugh. “Look at you, all bundled up like that. Must be your skin’s rotting off, huh? And you still dare to come out shopping? Not worried about infecting anyone?”

Without waiting for an answer, Emma spun around and shouted, “Manager! Where’s the manager? This woman’s got some contagious disease—her skin’s oozing and infected, you’re letting someone like that in here? Who’d dare try on clothes after her? Do you people even care about your business?”

Even before Emma finished, the manager hurried over, flustered. “Miss Windsor, please calm down.”

Micah quickly followed, lowering his voice to plead, “Emma, come on, don’t make a scene. There are people around…”

“So what?” Emma shot back, her chin high, voice ringing with self-righteousness. “She’s the sick one, running around and spreading God knows what. That’s a crime, you know! I’m just protecting the public!”

Ivy’s lips curled in disdain. She shot Emma a look and said, “Slander’s a crime, too, Emma. You might want to watch what you say.”

“Slander? As if! Everyone knows you have HIV, Ivy!”

The word seemed to freeze the air. The manager and a sales associate went stiff, uneasy glances darting between Ivy and Emma.

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” the manager said, stepping forward. “Otherwise I’ll call security.”

Ivy met her eyes, unflinching. “And your evidence?”

The manager hesitated, glancing at Emma. “Miss Ivy said so herself—she’s one of our VIP clients.”

“Miss Ivy…” Ivy echoed the title with a sardonic tilt of her head. “Emma, is this what all your scheming was for? Just to take my spot as ‘Miss Ivy’ at this store?”

Emma smirked. “Well, I’m the only Windsor heiress left, aren’t I?”

Ivy laughed under her breath, then turned to the manager with deliberate indifference. “If you want rumors, Emma’s the one with a real infection. Hers is even more contagious.”

“What?” The manager’s face paled, unable to tell who was lying anymore.

“Liar!” Emma practically stamped her foot. “If you’re not sick, Ivy, why are you all covered up? You must be hiding sores all over your skin—why don’t you just show everyone?”

She turned to the manager, barking orders. “Go on, pull up her sleeves! Bet she’s covered in ulcers.”

Just then, Katrina emerged from the fitting room, hearing the commotion. Seeing her friend under attack, she didn’t hesitate to jump in. “Who do you think you are, Emma? Who gave you the right to strip Ivy’s clothes?”

Emma only hugged herself and sneered, “What, scared? Manager, if you want to keep this place open, you’d better throw them out. Or I’ll never set foot in here again.”

Micah tried again, gently, “Emma, please, let’s just go to another store.”

“Why should I!” Emma rounded on him, voice biting. “Didn’t you promise me this morning? Said you’d never talk to her again, you’d pretend not to know her if you saw her—barely a few minutes and you’re already breaking your word! Who do you really care about, Micah?”

“Of course I care about you,” Micah insisted, slipping an arm around her shoulders, trying to steer her away. “But look at her, Emma—why not just let it go?”

But Emma dug her heels in, twisting out of his grasp. “I’m not leaving! Manager, are you just going to stand there?”

With a helpless sigh, the manager turned to Ivy. “Miss Ivy, I’m sorry, but perhaps you’d be more comfortable shopping elsewhere.”

It was clear now that the manager recognized who Ivy was.

Katrina bristled. “Is this how you treat customers—throwing them out for no reason?”

Ivy gently stopped her with a raised hand, signaling her not to argue.

She stepped forward, moving unhurriedly until she stood face-to-face with Emma. With slow precision, she removed her sunglasses, fixing Emma with a cold, unwavering stare.

Emma instinctively shrank back. “What are you doing?”

“Emma…” Ivy’s voice was calm, almost curious. “I’ve always wondered—back then, at the police station, you told everyone you saw my file, that I had HIV and a child. Is that right?”

Emma’s face tightened, her body leaning away. “O-of course. I saw it myself!”

“That’s odd… I wonder where things went wrong.” Ivy frowned, a trace of confusion on her face.

Without haste, she took off her mask, then unbuttoned the cuffs of her chiffon blouse. Suddenly, she lifted her arms.

Emma flinched, ducking as if expecting a blow. “Ah-!”

But Ivy simply rolled up her sleeves, revealing two slender, flawless arms—pale, smooth, unblemished. She smiled coolly. “Emma, I remember you always envied my skin. Any color looked good on me, didn’t it?”

She held one arm up to Emma’s, comparing. “You know, this dress actually suits me better—on you, it just makes your skin look dull, like you’ve spent your life working in a coal mine.”

“Ivy!” Emma shouted, her voice cracking with anger and humiliation.

Katrina stepped up, addressing the manager and saleswoman sharply: “Open your eyes and look for yourselves! Miss Ivy doesn’t have a single sore, and she’s not sick!”

Emma stared at Ivy’s arms, wide-eyed in disbelief. “You… you’re better? But just a few days ago, you were….”

“It was just an allergic reaction,” Ivy replied coolly. “But thank you for your concern.”

“Allergic reaction? That’s not what you said before! You claimed you were dying—that your HIV had flared up!”