When Ivy had first come back, she was all skin and bones. Her complexion was sallow, her skin was rough and cracked, and her hands looked as gnarled as an old woman’s. But after a few months of care—and peeling from a nasty bout of pityriasis rosea—her skin was now porcelain-smooth, soft as new, radiant and unblemished.
Jamison held her hand as if it were a rare gemstone, turning it over gently, admiring it with growing fondness. Seeing that the room was empty, Ivy glanced down and quietly asked, “Did Derek leave?”
“No, they’re still staying at the hotel. Funny thing, Derek used to work in this county before he joined The Ludwig Group, so he knows the area pretty well. He’ll be around these next few days.”
Ivy nodded in understanding.
“He’s gone to arrange dinner. You look a bit tired, so let’s just eat something simple here tonight and get some early rest.”
She nodded again. With Jamison handling everything, she didn’t have to lift a finger. It almost felt ridiculous, letting herself be pampered like this. For so long, she’d struggled to survive on her own; now, these calm, comfortable days felt like an unexpected gift. She let herself enjoy it, even as a faint sense of unease lingered.
Jamison spoiled her completely. If this went on, she worried she might get used to such easy, idle days. But nobody can rely on someone else forever.
So she warned herself in secret: Just for these few days… just for… let yourself sink into it. Once they were back home, she’d return to being the old Ivy again.
It wasn’t long before Derek brought up their dinner, smiling as he explained, “Mr. Jamison, these are some of the county’s specialties. Give them a try—you and Mrs. Jamison, see if you like them.”
“Thank you, they look great.”
“I’ll leave you to enjoy your meal,” Derek said, and quietly left the room.
Chapter 313
Ivy picked up her fork and looked over the dishes, a wry smile touching her lips. “I lived here for three years, and not once did I hear about any local delicacies.”
Back then, she’d never had enough to eat—let alone anything special. The mountain village was desperately poor; no wonder none of the local girls wanted to marry there, and families were forced to pay for brides from elsewhere. Silly’s family was even worse off. His mother was sick for years, battered and abused, unable to work or earn money. His father raised a few sheep and pigs, but what little he made barely covered his drinking and the most basic needs.
As for Ivy, because she’d been trafficked there, they’d kept her half-starved from the beginning, afraid she’d have the strength to run. When they realized she was stubborn and unyielding, Silly’s father grew furious and refused to let her eat properly. Sometimes, the food they gave her was hardly better than animal slop.
Remembering those days, Ivy’s hand trembled as she gripped her fork. Looking back now, she couldn’t fathom how she’d survived it all. Jamison heard her comment and immediately understood what she meant.
Before he could figure out what to say, he noticed her staring at her plate, eyes brimming with tears, as if she might break down any second. He panicked. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Is it the food—don’t you like it?” He hadn’t finished speaking before he was already reaching for his phone, ready to call Derek and have the dishes replaced.
Ivy quickly stopped him. “No, no—it’s fine. The food’s good. I just… remembered some things from before, and couldn’t help it…” She wiped her tears away, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “I’m okay.”
But Jamison didn’t believe it for a second.
He studied her for a long moment, then spoke gently, “Ivy, if it’s too much for you to go back there, we won’t go. I’ll talk to the police—they’ll understand.”