Chapter 31
The moment they stepped inside and saw the chaos in the living room, Adkins and Baillie were both completely bewildered.
After listening to Rosetta’s complaints, Baillie’s patience snapped. “Ivy, your mother has a migraine. You’ve been banging around all afternoon. That’s just too much.”
Ivy shot back, “So it wasn’t too much for Emma to kick the handyman out?”
“I was doing it for his sake,” Emma retorted, her voice full of self-righteousness. “You’re sick and still running around everywhere. Knowingly spreading HIV is a crime, you know?”
“Oh, so you’re a legal expert now?” Ivy fired back without missing a beat. “Why don’t you tell everyone what the penalty is for helping human traffickers?”
“You-!” Emma sputtered, lost for words, and resorted to calling for backup. “Mom! Did you hear that? Ivy’s accusing me again!”
While the sisters bickered, an engine rumbled in the driveway. A moment later, Micah stepped into the living room.
Emma, still furious with him, rolled her eyes and stormed upstairs.
Micah hurried after her but slipped on a loose floorboard and went sprawling, landing flat on his back with a resounding crash.
The noise sent the Windsor family into a panic. They rushed over, helping him up.
Emma came running down the stairs, her anger instantly replaced with concern. “Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?”
Micah, wincing and rubbing his backside, managed to get up. He glanced at Ivy, who was sitting on the floor, busy with tools. “Did you buy this online? Why are you putting it together yourself?”
Ivy didn’t look up. “Ask your fiancée.”
Micah turned to Emma.
She huffed, “She’s got that illness–who would want to come assemble furniture for her? Of course she has to do it herself. She’s been hammering away all afternoon. It’s driving Mom and me crazy.”
Micah’s gaze returned to Ivy. Her tiny hands struggled to grip the hammer, the other bracing an awkward piece of wood. Every couple of hits, she had to pause and readjust. Without thinking, he bent down to steady the board for her.
“Let me help,” he said.
Ivy looked up at him with a dazzling smile. “Micah, you’re always the sweetest to me.”
Emma’s jaw dropped, her face turning a furious shade of green.
“Micah! Are you here to see me or her?”
“Emma, of course I’m here for you. But look at all this stuff cluttering the living room. What if you trip? Let me help Ivy get it out of the way. It’ll only take a minute.”
Micah’s reasoning was flawless–he made it sound like he was doing the whole family a favor.
“Get out! I don’t want to see you!” Emma shouted, stomping upstairs in a huff.
Micah shot a worried look after his fiancée, then turned back to Ivy and helped her even more earnestly.
Soon, the two of them had the wardrobe finished.
“Micah, you’re amazing. I couldn’t have done it without you today,” Ivy said, beaming, her voice just loud enough to carry up the stairs.
Emma heard every word from the second floor. She yanked the blankets over her head, burning with jealousy.
Once the furniture was assembled, Ivy and Micah moved the wardrobe and desk into the maid’s room. Ivy was thoroughly satisfied with her new space.
At dinner, her meal was left outside the door–nothing but plain vegetables.
She took one glance, turned around, and ordered a deluxe hotpot feast on her phone.
While the Windsor family and Micah sat down together in the dining room, Ivy settled on the sofa in her little corner, savoring her extravagant hotpot set.
The fragrant, spicy broth grew richer and more aromatic with every simmer.
Eventually, the scent filled not just the living room but drifted all the way upstairs.
Back at the table, the Windsors’ hands were shaking with frustration as they gripped their forks. Even Micah felt Ivy was being a bit much. He walked over and tried to reason with her. “Ivy, can’t you eat in your room? The smell is way too strong.”
Her lips were bright red from the spice, her eyes shining and cheeks flushed with color. She looked up at Micah, her delicate features so striking that he was instantly reminded of sweeter times between them.
“There’s an open flame. What if I set the house on fire in my room?” she replied, all wide-eyed innocence.
Adkins, already fuming from losing millions in the stock market that day, slammed his silverware down. “If you know it’s unsafe, why eat it at all? What’s wrong with the meal we gave you? What’s so bad about it?”
Ivy shrugged, sucking in a sharp breath from the heat of the broth. “Dad, just because you got roasted in the market today doesn’t mean you should take it out on me.”
She really knew how to press every button.
Adkins kicked his chair over and stormed upstairs.
But even the study was thick with hotpot aroma–it was everywhere, impossible to escape.
That night, the Windsors had no peace.
Another family meeting was called. Once again, everyone conspired about how to get the eldest daughter out of the house.
But they also worried–if they pushed too hard, Ivy might start a livestream and air their dirty laundry to the media, dragging the Windsor name through the mud.
As they huddled upstairs, frantic for a solution, Ivy lounged in her tiny room, tinkering with her new computer and listening to music.
With the computer, the cramped maid’s room didn’t feel so lonely anymore.
The market crash was all over the news that night, flooding the forums with panic and despair.
Ivy skimmed a few of the more insightful posts, browsed some international analysis, thought for a moment, and then tapped out her own take on the day’s financial carnage.