Thad shot up from his chair. “Jamison, that’s enough! Watch your tone when you speak to your parents!”

Jamison’s voice was calm but unyielding. “I’m just laying it all out upfront. As long as you stay out of this and don’t try any backhanded tricks, none of what I warned about will ever happen.”

The entire Ludwig family fell silent, no one daring to refute him.

Jamison continued, “A peaceful home is a prosperous one. Our family has thrived for generations because we’ve always stuck together–we don’t fight amongst ourselves. That’s a tradition worth keeping. But if you stand in the way of my happiness, I can’t promise I won’t come back and fight for my share of the inheritance. That would only hurt the family and make us a laughingstock. It’s just not worth it. So, for everyone’s sake, I hope you’ll give your blessing to Ivy and me.”

Truth be told, Jamison was every bit as skilled at psychological games as he was in medicine.

These were words the elders usually reserved for lecturing the younger generation. But now, Jamison had flipped the script, stealing all their lines and leaving his parents, older brother, and sister utterly speechless, exchanging helpless glances around the room.

With no one left to argue, Jamison glanced at his watch, then stood up with satisfaction.

“It’s almost midnight. Mom, Dad, you should get some rest. At your age, a good meal and a good night’s sleep are what matter most. Let the next generation figure out their own lives–worrying won’t change a thing, right?”

Danny glared at his son, clenching his jaw in anger but saying nothing.

What was left for him to say after Jamison had taken over the entire conversation? Jamison turned to leave but paused at the doorway, tossing one last line over his shoulder. “Oh, and when you’re ready to accept Ivy, I’ll bring her home for dinner.”

With that, he strode out, leaving the whole family fuming in his wake.

“That ungrateful brat! We never should’ve had him!” Danny thumped his cane on the floor, seething.

Thad let out a bitter laugh. “Looks like Jamison’s rebellious streak never really ended.”

Carla rounded on her parents, her voice sharp. “This isn’t just rebellion–it’s because you two spoiled him rotten! He’s always acted like the rules don’t apply!”

The more she thought about her brother’s words, the angrier she became.

Adela sighed, her tone weary. “Let it go. Maybe he’ll lose interest in a few days, and this will all blow over. Remember how we forced his hand years ago, and he left the country for ages? We can’t go through that again.”

She was referring, of course, to the time when Jamison had fallen for his sister-in-law–a scandal that, in truth, wasn’t really his fault. Fate had played a cruel joke on all of them.

Danny, beard bristling, pushed himself up with his cane. “He’s grown up now. We can’t just push him out again. If we press too hard, he might really come back to fight over the family estate.”

Still fuming, he couldn’t help but curse again. “Ungrateful son! Should’ve never had him! He’s going to be the death of me!”

Adela hurried to his side, soothing and supporting him as the two elders slowly made their way upstairs.

Micah had thought that his own injury and the late-night commotion would force his grandparents to pressure Jamison, maybe even break up him and Ivy.

But in the end, nothing came of it.

Frustrated, he jumped to his feet and tried to follow. “Grandpa, I know you can do something! Please, talk to Uncle–he can’t be with Ivy. I can’t accept it!”

Thad caught his nephew by the arm, his expression stern. “Micah, your grandparents are getting on in years. They need their rest.”

Micah’s face was a picture of misery as he turned pleading eyes on Thad. “Uncle, please talk to him. He can’t be with Ivy…I just can’t accept it…”

Thad looked straight at him, his tone firm. “Micah, haven’t you caused enough trouble lately? You’re not a child anymore. Even if you can’t make a name for yourself, the least you can do is give your parents some peace, and stop stirring up drama at home.”