Chapter 35

“Is it illegal for me not to sell my house?” Jamison cut the realtor off, his clear, detached gaze sweeping across the room.

The realtor shrank back, stammering, “N–no, of course not. It’s not illegal, sir, but you might miss out on a great opportunity…”

Jamison ignored him entirely and started to leave.

Ivy smiled, folding her arms in a leisurely pose. She spoke, her tone unhurried but sharp: “So, Mr. Jamison, turns out you’re not just a quack doctor, but a coward too. Petty, thin-skinned, the whole package.”

Katrina jumped at that, grabbing Ivy’s arm in alarm. “Ivy, don’t be so harsh!”

She barely knew Jamison, but seeing how he’d stood there, cold-faced and radiating an intimidating presence that made it hard for anyone to breathe, she was starting to understand why her friend had such a strong bias against him. With a personality so aloof and distant, so impossible to approach, it was hard for anyone to warm up to him. But then she remembered Ivy’s already difficult situation with the Windsor family; if she ended up making an enemy out of Mr. Jamison too, things would only get harder.

Yet, as sharp as Ivy’s words were, they seemed to have struck a nerve.

Jamison turned around, his handsome features darkening further. “Trying to provoke me?”

“Hardly,” Ivy replied, sitting down and crossing her legs. “I’m just stating facts.”

Jamison ground his teeth. The only negative reviews in his otherwise flawless life all came from this woman right here, and he couldn’t help wanting to wring her neck. But he was a doctor. His job was to save lives, not take them.

“Why do you want that house so badly?” he suddenly asked, changing tack.

Ivy pulled out a chair and sat, her expression cool and poised. “I like it. Simple as that.” She gave him a faint, sly smile. “I have to admit, your character leaves a lot to be desired, but your taste is impeccable.”

Jamison let out a short, humorless laugh. “Should I be thanking you for the compliment?”

“No need. I’m always fair—give credit where it’s due, and call out what I can’t stand.”

Jamison fell silent, his expression unreadable.

Katrina, tense from head to toe, hesitated before raising her hand timidly, hoping to break the stalemate. “Um, Mr. Jamison… Ivy really loves that house. And honestly, it’s just sitting empty—wouldn’t it be better to let someone who appreciates and cares for it take it off your hands? Maybe that could bring you some peace of mind, too.”

“Ivy, why are you bothering with him?” Ivy snapped, yanking her friend’s arm back.

Jamison gave a contemptuous laugh. “Funny. A woman like you, and yet you have a friend who actually knows how to speak like a human being.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? What kind of woman am I?” Ivy shot back, instantly bristling.

“Hot-tempered, sharp-tongued, stubborn, contrarian, and you attack everyone equally,” Jamison rattled off his list of stereotypes, then added, “We’ve barely met, and I’ve already spotted these many flaws. I’m honestly starting to wonder if you have any redeeming qualities at all.”

Ivy was stunned. Not only did she have to put up with grief at home, but now she had to pay money to get insulted while trying to buy a house? Why was she even bothering? The housing market was in a slump; buyers had all the power. She had money—surely she could find a house she actually liked.

The silence between them grew heavy.

Finally, Ivy stood up abruptly. “Katrina, let’s go.” She grabbed her friend, and as she turned to leave, she couldn’t resist glancing back at Jamison. “Fine, let your precious house rot, or maybe let the rats and cockroaches move in. They’ll probably appreciate it more than you do.”

The realtor looked like he was about to cry. “Miss Windsor, wait, please—let’s talk this out—”

“Oh? Hit a sore spot, did I? Is that why you’re suddenly too embarrassed to keep up the act?” Jamison smirked, clearly enjoying himself now as he continued to needle Ivy.

Ivy snapped, spinning back around to let loose: “You’re just another heartless capitalist, hiding behind your white coat to cash in on other people’s misery. And you think you’re any better than me? Calling me hot-tempered, sharp-tongued, stubborn—look in the mirror! You strut around like some model citizen, but underneath it all, you’re just a wolf in sheep’s clothing!”