Over dinner that evening, Ivy Windsor brought up what had happened earlier in the day as she sat across from Jamison Ludwig.

“It was honestly eye-opening,” she said, swirling her wine. “Emma Windsor really dove right into her new role, didn’t she? And Sheridan Carter–who knew he was so generous? Just looking at the shopping bags Emma was carrying, I’d say he dropped, what, thirty or forty grand at least.”

Ivy couldn’t believe her cousin’s luck with men. Emma always seemed to find some gullible guy willing to throw money at her without a second thought.

Jamison chuckled. “The Carters have money to burn. That’s exactly why, even with Sheridan’s terrible reputation, he still manages to get married over and over. People overlook a lot if you’re free with your cash.”

“So basically, Emma’s making out like a bandit,” Ivy said, her tone a mix of envy and amusement.

Jamison arched an eyebrow, sliding a piece of steak onto her plate. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous again?”

She scoffed, tossing her hair. “Hardly. My life is a thousand times better than hers right now.” But after a moment, her bravado faded, and she added quietly, “It’s just… every time I think about going back to Silverfen, I remember those three years of hell I went through there. Meanwhile, Emma’s still enjoying her charmed life. Sometimes it just doesn’t feel fair.”

She couldn’t help but wish, just for a moment, that it was Emma who’d been trapped out in the mountains all those years–a woman stolen away and forgotten, never able to escape.

Let her be stuck there forever, Ivy thought bitterly.

Jamison squeezed her hand, his voice firm and reassuring. “Trust me, Emma’s not going to have a happy ending. She’ll pay for everything, and it’ll be worse than anything you ever went through.”

Ivy assumed he was just trying to make her feel better and didn’t think much of it.

It wasn’t until much, much later that she realized just how much power this man wielded–enough to decide the course of someone’s marriage with a single word.

After dinner, Jamison offered to drive her home, but Ivy shook her head.

“We leave the day after tomorrow. I’d rather stay at my parents’ these last two nights. I’ll be with you the whole time once we’re on the road, so what’s the rush?” Her cheeks flushed pink as she mumbled the last part, embarrassed by her own shyness.

Jamison grinned. “Fair enough. I’ll let you have two more nights to yourself–time to mentally prepare, right?”

Ivy shot him a look, lips pressed together in silence.

She’d been trying to steel herself for this trip, desperate to move on from the past, but the harder she tried to suppress the memories, the more vivid they became.

That was part of why she needed to go back to Silverfen.

You had to face your pain head-on if you ever wanted to be free of it.

That painting, Lock, had forced her to confront so much–but evidently, it hadn’t been enough. The wounds still festered, refusing to heal.

This time, she hoped, she could rip those scars wide open, let the sunlight in, and finally let them close for good.

Before their departure, Jamison pulled some strings and had the local president of the Ludwig Group’s Westshire branch arrange for a welcoming party at the airport.

So when their flight touched down at Westshire International, three sleek black Mercedes vans awaited them in the parking lot.

A sharp-looking young man stepped forward as soon as they emerged, introducing himself with a crisp handshake. “Mr. Ludwig, welcome. I’m Derek, vice president of the Ludwig Group’s Westshire branch. Mr. Ludwig gave us your instructions. If you or Mrs. Ludwig need anything at all, please let me know.”

Jamison nodded. “Thank you, Derek. Appreciate it.”

“You’re too kind, sir.” Derek opened the car door with a respectful gesture, inviting them inside.

But Jamison, ever the gentleman, slipped an arm around Ivy’s waist and ushered her in first.

Settling into her seat, Ivy glanced out the window at the impressive row of luxury vehicles. She leaned in and whispered, “Don’t you think this is a little over the top?”

Chapter 311

Jamison laughed. “Over the top? We’ve got a whole group with us. What would you have me do–make them run alongside the car?” He squeezed her hand gently. “Relax. We’re giving these guys jobs, not exploiting them. No need to feel guilty about the entourage.”