Adkins shouted at his wife, his face twisted with rage as he turned back to point at Ivy. “Don’t you dare think Jamison would ever actually want someone like you, with your attitude. Just wait till he—Hey! Ivy, you—”

“Adkins! Adkins!”

Before he could finish, Ivy slammed her foot on the gas pedal.

Caught completely off guard, Adkins’s hand scraped hard against the car window, and he stumbled as the car shot forward. The force sent him sprawling to the ground, landing flat on his back as the Maserati sped away.

Rosetta, pale as a sheet, hurried over and knelt by his side. “Adkins, are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?”

Adkins sat up, pounding his fist on the pavement in fury. “Ungrateful brat! Cold-blooded, heartless thing! I should never have had her in the first place! She’ll be the death of me, I swear!”

From the rearview mirror, Ivy watched her father’s figure still sprawled on the ground, her eyes icy and her face expressionless.

She never imagined that, in this lifetime, the people she’d come to hate most wouldn’t be the traffickers who kidnapped her all those years ago—but her own family.

When she arrived at the police station, Officer Gallagher was already waiting, knowing exactly why she’d come. He led her to his office.

“By the rules, I can’t share specifics about the ongoing investigation. But, to be honest, from what I’ve seen, it’s unlikely Emma will be convicted.” Gallagher looked apologetic, letting out a weary sigh. “The law is about hard evidence. Even if we all know Emma’s an accomplice, if there’s not enough proof, there’s nothing we can do.”

Ivy remained calm.

She’d expected this outcome.

Originally, she’d come here thinking that if Emma could be convicted for collaborating with traffickers, she’d then report how Emma had hired someone to sabotage her car, causing the brakes to fail.

The man Emma hired had already fled, but if the police opened a case, tracking him down wouldn’t be difficult. Then, with multiple charges, Emma might have ended up behind bars for a good long while.

But now, it all seemed pointless.

Even if she reported the car sabotage, even if the case was opened and the man brought back, nothing truly serious had happened to her in the end. The sentence would be light, barely a slap on the wrist.

“Miss Windsor? Miss Windsor?” Gallagher called her name several times, noticing her silence—and the red handprint on her cheek. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine…” Ivy stood, her voice polite. “Thank you for your help.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get you the justice you deserve.” Gallagher looked guilty, pausing before adding, “Emma might be released in just a few days.”

“I understand.” Ivy gave him a small smile as she left, but her mind was already working on a new plan.

Jamison had been right all along.

Instead of sending Emma to prison for three or five years, it would be far worse to lock her in a miserable marriage for life—to let her suffer every single day.

And as for the Windsor family…

Back in her car, Ivy pulled down the vanity mirror and studied the redness still burning on her cheek. The hatred inside her wouldn’t fade.

If the Windsors refused to believe there’d be consequences, then she’d bring those consequences to their doorstep herself.

Just before the end of the workday, Ivy’s phone rang. It was Jamison.

“What do you want for dinner tonight? I’ll come pick you up in a bit.”

Ivy glanced at her swollen cheek in the mirror, not feeling up to eating out. “Aren’t you working late today?”

“What, you hoping I work overtime every night?” Jamison teased.

“Of course not. I just wouldn’t want to delay your work.”

He laughed on the other end. “Honestly, most of the time I worked late, it was just because there was nothing to come home to. Might as well stay at the hospital. But things are different now. I have a girlfriend—time to enjoy life a little.”