“Micah!” Carla snapped at her son the moment he spoke.

But Micah wouldn’t back down. “It’s true! Ivy and I grew up together–we’ve known each other since we were kids. We were always close, and then Uncle just–”

“Micah.” Thad’s voice cut through the room, stern and cold. His expression darkened. “If you keep making a scene, don’t blame me for throwing you out.”

Carla hurried forward and grabbed Micah’s arm, her voice lowered in a frantic whisper. “Stop this, you promised me just now–”

She hadn’t even finished her attempt at soothing him when Micah, emboldened, retorted directly at Thad, “Uncle, this is my grandparents’ house. I came here to see them–you don’t have the right to kick me out.”

Ivy stared at him in disbelief.

Had it really only been a short while since she’d seen Micah? When did he start acting this bold?

She wasn’t the only one shocked–the entire Ludwig family was stunned.

Jamison, dressed head-to-toe in black, stood coolly to the side. He couldn’t help but let out a short, cold laugh at Micah’s words–though the sound sent a chill down everyone’s spine.

He didn’t bother wasting words on his nephew. In a flat voice, he ordered, “Butler Fitch, have someone escort Mr. Shepherd out.”

Jamison wasn’t married yet, nor had he set up his own household, so his parents’ home was still his home. Here, his word was law–even if it meant kicking out a relative.

At his command, Butler Fitch immediately appeared with a couple of burly security guards. His tone was polite, but there was no mistaking the threat. “Mr. Micah, will you leave on your own, or shall we help you?”

The words were courteous, but the message was crystal clear.

Micah was trapped, his pride in tatters. He shot Carla a desperate look. “Mom… Did you hear him? He’s completely out of line!”

“Enough! Apologize, now–or I can’t help you either.” Carla knew she was just a married daughter, hardly in a position to interfere in her own family’s affairs. All she could do was scold her son.

The standoff continued.

Adela Ludwig, who had been silent for some time, finally spoke, her face stern. “Micah, you’re not a child anymore. Keep this up, and you’ll land yourself in real trouble one day.”

Micah’s voice trembled with indignation. “Grandma, I only like someone. What’s so wrong about that?”

“Your feelings are causing trouble for others and making the whole family miserable. That is exactly what’s wrong!” Adela Ludwig didn’t spare his feelings.

“Grandma, you’re just siding with Uncle. This is all because of him–”

“So what if I favor my own son?” Adela’s patience wore thin. “Isn’t that my right?”

Micah flushed red, then pale, utterly humiliated.

Jamison, meanwhile, took Ivy’s arm and started toward the main house, pausing only to call back, “Butler Fitch, why are you still standing there?”

At his signal, Butler Fitch motioned to the guards, who began moving toward Micah.

“Wait, wait! I’m sorry! Can’t I just apologize?” Realizing he was beaten, Micah caved in immediately, lowering his head and pleading, “Uncle, I’ll apologize, okay?”

Ivy watched the scene, her expression unreadable.

She had honestly thought Micah had grown a backbone. Turns out, he was still the same–spineless as ever. What on earth had she ever seen in him?

Jamison stopped and turned, his face unreadable and cold. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes made it clear–he was waiting for Micah to do it.

Micah clenched his fists, turned to face them, and after a long, agonizing pause, finally mumbled, “A–aunt Ivy…”

Ivy’s face grew even more complicated.

Jamison gave her arm a gentle nudge. “Your nephew’s talking to you. Aren’t you going to answer?”

Ivy shot him a glare. If there weren’t so many people watching, she would’ve stormed off right then.

“I heard him,” she replied, lips pressed into a thin, reluctant line.