Chapter 25
Baillie stared at his own trembling hands, his face tight with regret. “Emma, I swear, I didn’t mean to–”
“I don’t want to live anymore!” Emma sobbed, heartbroken, covering her face as she ran upstairs.
“Emma!” Baillie tried to go after her, but Lauren turned and bolted too. Torn, he glanced back and forth, then rushed outside to catch up with his girlfriend.
Out in the yard, Lauren yanked her hand out of Baillie’s grasp and slapped him across the face. “Let go! If you want this relationship to last, you’re moving out of the Windsor house and into the Miller family’s home. After that, you don’t get to come and go as you please. If you won’t do it, we’re done—don’t ever try to see me again!”
Her voice was raw and furious as she hurled the ultimatum at him.
Adkins had just arrived to break things up, but at Lauren’s words, his face darkened. “Lauren, that’s enough! Baillie is my only son. There’s no way he’s leaving the Windsor family just to move in with you!”
“Dad, just stop!” Baillie snapped, anger flaring.
Adkins bristled. “You ungrateful brat! All this because of a girl, and now you’re yelling at your own father?”
Inside, Rosetta and Micah hurried upstairs to try and comfort Emma.
Moments ago, the house had been buzzing with people; now, only Ivy remained at the dining table. With the drama over, she stood up with a satisfied little smile and made her way back to her room.
She knew all too well that after tonight’s chaos, things wouldn’t be easy for her, either. She’d probably be thrown out by tomorrow.
In fact, she suspected her lovely little sister had stirred up trouble on purpose, blowing everything out of proportion so that their parents and brother would unite against her and kick her out sooner rather than later.
If that was Emma’s plan, Ivy almost had to respect her for it. At least she was finally showing some brains.
But Ivy couldn’t just let herself be thrown out so easily—if she caved now, Emma would win it all. Until she found hard evidence, she’d have to dig in her heels and refuse to budge, no matter how unwelcome she was.
As it turned out, Ivy’s instincts were dead on.
That night, after the storm had passed, the Windsor family—along with Micah—gathered in the upstairs study for a family meeting.
Emma sat with an ice pack pressed to her swollen face, her eyes rimmed red as she sniffled. Baillie kept trying to apologize, reaching out and asking to see her face, but Emma turned away from him every time, still furious.
Micah’s heart ached for his fiancée, but thinking of the Windsor family’s decision, he couldn’t help feeling a pang of sympathy for Ivy. “Adkins, are you really going to throw Ivy out? She’s seriously ill—she probably doesn’t have much time left. If you kick her out now, she’ll be all alone…”
“Micah, you say you don’t love her anymore, but you clearly still care. If you’re so upset, why don’t you go keep her company?” Emma shot back, her voice raw with anger and pain.
“Emma, I just pity her, that’s all.”
Adkins turned to his future son-in-law, his tone stern. “Micah, Emma’s right. You need to keep your distance. Everyone knows you and Ivy used to be involved—if you keep acting so ambiguous, Emma’s going to have her doubts.”
Micah pressed his lips together and fell silent.
Baillie, still seething, said coldly, “Well, Lauren made it clear—if Ivy stays here, she’s breaking up with me.”
Rosetta looked torn. After a moment’s silence, she sighed. “Tomorrow. She moves out tomorrow. The new place is already sorted.”
“Agreed. It’s the only way,” the rest of the family nodded solemnly.
Emma pressed the ice pack to her cheek, her expression frosty. But deep in her eyes, a flicker of triumph flashed.
Early the next morning, Ivy went out for her usual run.
The “Stonks Only Go Up” WhatsApp group was already buzzing. Turns out, the US stock market had taken a dive overnight, and everyone was discussing what that meant for the markets back home.
Some were talking about selling off, others about shifting their investments, and a few were convinced now was the time to buy more.
Bob: Where’s Mrs. Smith? She’s been so quiet since she got back. Still not feeling well?
CoachMurphy: @Mrs.Smith, any tips for us mere mortals?
Dale: Probably still asleep—it’s early.
Ivy slowed her pace, breath coming a little short, and checked her phone as the notifications kept coming.
Mrs.Smith: I sold off most of my positions after the rally yesterday.
Bob: So you think today’s going to be a bloodbath?
Dale: I’m selling as soon as the market opens!
Dr.Handsome: I’m staying put. I don’t think the rally’s over yet.
Bob: Dr.Handsome, you’re up early.
Dr.Handsome: Just got off an overnight shift.
CoachMurphy: You doctors work too hard. [fistbumpemoji]
Ivy stared at her phone, a complicated mix of emotions flickering across her face.
Ordinary doctors really did work themselves to the bone. Not like those born into money and privilege, who raked in easy profits just by virtue of their last name.
Mrs.Smith: @Dr.Handsome, since you spend your nights saving lives, here’s a friendly tip: scale back your positions. This volatility isn’t going away soon—cut your losses while you can.
At that moment, Jamison was leaving the hospital, sliding into his car as he read her message, a smirk tugging at his lips. He clearly disagreed.
Dr.Handsome: I’ve done my research lately. I trust my own judgment.
Mrs.Smith: You’re hopeless.
Bob: Dr.Handsome, you really should listen to her. Nine times out of ten, she wins every bet you make. Don’t mess with your hard-earned money.
Jamison read the message, his smirk deepening with a hint of disdain, then tossed his phone onto the passenger seat and started the drive home.
After all, if there was one thing the Ludwig family had in abundance, it was money. Forget his shares in the family conglomerate—just the dividends from his stakes in two top-tier private hospitals brought in more than enough for a comfortable life.