Chapter 195

“I asked about it—Mr. Ludwig said the painting isn’t suitable for public sale, and he doesn’t want it falling into anyone else’s hands.”

A pang shot through Ivy’s heart. Suddenly, she understood why Jamison was willing to pay such a high price for that painting. Was it because of how she’d reacted when she saw it? Had it moved him, made him want to protect her? Did he want to buy the painting, no matter the cost, just to spare her from ever seeing it again and being reminded of the pain?

That had to be it… Otherwise, there was no way to explain why he’d pay so much for a painting he didn’t even like.

“Sawyer, tell Mr. Ludwig the painting’s not for sale. The artist appreciates his interest, but it’s not available.”

“Understood.”

After she hung up, Ivy tried to go back to her book, but her mind kept wandering. She couldn’t help but worry whether Sawyer would actually be able to handle that man. She had to admit, Jamison really knew how to get under people’s skin. If he’d been targeting some naive, inexperienced girl, his tactics would have landed him in her bed a long time ago.

Ten minutes later, Sawyer called again.

“Miss Windsor, Mr. Ludwig insists on speaking directly with the artist. What should I tell him?”

Ivy frowned. Was this man never going to give up?

“Just tell him the painting’s not for sale and I’m not interested in talking. If he keeps pestering you, just ignore him,” she replied, her patience wearing thin.

Sawyer sounded hesitant. “Miss Windsor, you must be joking. That’s Mr. Jamison we’re talking about—rumor has it he’s even harder to please than the Ludwig family’s eldest son.”

“Don’t worry. He won’t give you any trouble.”

Ivy was firm, but she still refused to reveal her identity. Left with no choice, Sawyer gave in.

Once the call ended, Ivy felt troubled too. She’d originally hoped to use this painting as a chance to get her message out—to show, in the most direct way possible, the reality faced by women who’d been trafficked and to call for more compassion and understanding for them.

She’d kept her identity secret at first because she didn’t want the attention focused on herself, or on her complicated family background. She wanted people to focus on the issue, not her personal drama. Her plan had been to reveal her identity and speak to the media only after the exhibition had made enough of an impact. But then Jamison had shown up, intent on buying the painting—meddling where he didn’t belong.

Her phone chimed—a WhatsApp notification snapping her out of her thoughts. She reached for her mouse and glanced at the corner of the screen. As expected, it was Dr. Handsome again.

Dr. Handsome: Did you check out the art show?

Ivy’s heart skipped a beat. What were the odds—he’d pick today to ask about the exhibition?

Mrs. Smith: I did.

Dr. Handsome: When did you go? Over the weekend?

Mrs. Smith: Today.

Dr. Handsome: Today? What a coincidence.

Ivy paused, then asked: Did you go today too?

Dr. Handsome: Yeah, this morning.

Dr. Handsome: So, is it possible we passed by each other without knowing?

Ivy gazed at the screen, her thoughts swirling with uneasy curiosity. This morning, she’d been hassled by Baillie and his friend, then later cornered by Rosetta and Emma—both times sparking a scene. The crowds had been impossible to ignore. Had Dr. Handsome been among them?

Thank goodness he didn’t know what she looked like. She’d have died of embarrassment.

As she pondered, another message popped up.

Dr. Handsome: Someone caused a huge scene at the show this morning. The crowd was massive. Did you see what happened?

So he had seen it!

Mrs. Smith: You seem to have a lot of free time. I thought doctors were supposed to be above gossip.

Dr. Handsome: Watching drama is human nature. I bet you stopped to watch, too.

Ivy thought: Who are you kidding—I was the drama.

Mrs. Smith: I peeked for a second, but it was boring, so I left.

On the other side of the screen, Jamison caught her little lie and couldn’t help but smile knowingly at his computer. Somewhere along the line, he realized he’d become a bit obsessed. He couldn’t explain why he kept chatting with Ivy online, even when he knew it was risky. Maybe it was because Ivy had her guard up so high around “Jamison” that he couldn’t find a way in.