When Jamison returned to Ludwig Mansion, it was already past ten at night. Yet the grand, gilded hall was ablaze with light. Both Ludwig family elders were present, along with Carla’s whole family and Thad Ludwig as well.
As Jamison stepped into the living room, the family doctor was still tending to Micah’s bruised face.
“That’s enough–stop making such a fuss over a tiny scrape,” Jamison said, taking a seat, his tone laced with sarcasm.
At that, Carla whipped around, her face flushed with anger. “Jamison, that’s out of line! How is he making a fuss? Look at the lump on Micah’s forehead! You really didn’t hold back, did you?”
Jamison glanced at his nephew. Their eyes met, and in that instant, he understood–Micah hadn’t told the truth.
Since that was the case, Jamison had no choice but to take the blame for his nephew’s “injury.” When it came to protecting Ivy, they were of one mind, no words needed.
“It was an accident. I didn’t mean to,” Jamison said, biting down on his already split lip. The taste of blood quickly filled his mouth again.
“Oh my God, Jamison–are you bleeding?” Adela, his mother, suddenly gasped, having noticed the blood at the corner of his mouth.
Jamison wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, frowning slightly as he looked at the crimson stain on his fingers. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”
“How can you call this nothing? Look at you–bruised and bleeding!” Adela’s voice trembled with worry as she hurried to his side, pausing only to scold her grandson. “Micah, what’s gotten into you, treating your uncle like this?”
Micah was startled to see how battered his uncle’s face was.
But knowing his uncle’s ways, he instinctively protested, “He’s the tricky one–he hit me harder, just not where anyone can see.”
Carla shot her son a sharp look and nudged him, signaling him to keep quiet.
Adela glared at her grandson, clearly displeased, but both boys were family–she couldn’t really take sides. Instead, she quickly summoned the doctor to tend to Jamison’s injuries.
“I already patched myself up on the way home. It’s fine,” Jamison said politely, but didn’t actually resist the doctor’s attention. In fact, as the doctor dabbed disinfectant onto his wounds, Jamison couldn’t help but suck in a breath through his teeth from the sting.
“Mr. Jamison’s injuries are a bit more serious than Mr. Micah’s, especially here near the eye. The retina is bloodshot,” the doctor said, frowning with concern. He added carefully, “Mr. Jamison, you should stop by ophthalmology for a checkup tomorrow–just to be safe.”
“All right.”
Adela, hearing this, turned to scold her grandson again, but Carla was quicker–she smacked her son on the back and snapped, “Show some respect! How could you go for your uncle’s eye? What if something worse had happened?”
Adela swallowed her anger and let it drop.
“I–I didn’t mean to. I just lost my temper, that’s all,” Micah muttered, guilt heavy in his voice. He glanced at his mother, silently begging for help.
Carla got the cue and turned to her parents, quickly steering the conversation back to the real issue. “Dad, Mom, we’re here tonight because of Jamison and Miss Ivy. You can’t just let Jamison act on a whim.”
With the subject back on track, Jamison’s face grew serious.
Seated at the center of the sofa, Jamison’s father, Danny Ludwig, tapped his cane on the floor and fixed his youngest son with a stern look. “I hear you’ve made things official with this Miss Ivy?”
Jamison met his gaze without flinching. “Yes. I have.”
“Ridiculous!” Danny snapped. “The Windsor family is a laughingstock these days–their name is smeared all over the media. Of all the people in the world, why pick a Windsor girl?”
Jamison remained unruffled. “The Windsor scandals have nothing to do with Ivy. She was thrown out of that family long ago.”