Tony was taken aback, glancing up at the man before him. He looked tall, cold, and utterly unapproachable.

For a moment, Tony assumed he must be Ivy’s bodyguard.

Fortunately, Ivy quickly explained, “This is my husband.”

Tony nodded at once, offering a polite greeting, though the look he gave Jamison was tinged with obvious caution. From that point on, he didn’t dare make any unnecessary moves around Ivy.

Feeling a bit awkward, Ivy shot Jamison a sidelong glance and muttered, “Why don’t you go sit in the lounge for a while?”

Jamison shook his head. “No need. Since I’m here, I’ll get a trim too.”

He was always too busy with work to visit the barbershop; usually, he had a stylist come to his office. Now that he was out anyway, he figured he might as well get it done—and keep a close eye on his wife, just in case one of these flamboyant stylists tried anything.

Ivy looked up at his hair and remembered the last time she’d washed and dried it for him. His dark, stiff hair felt as though it could pierce straight through someone’s heart. For some reason, her chest tightened at the memory.

“Yeah, your hair’s gotten a little long. Let’s do it together, then.”

Thank goodness Katrina wasn’t here. If she’d tagged along, with both of them getting their hair done while she waited, she’d have felt like the third wheel at a solar eclipse.

While Tony discussed Ivy’s style preferences with her, she glanced over at Jamison, who’d just come out after his hair wash.

“So, what kind of cut do you want?” she called out.

Jamison shrugged. “Up to you. I’ll let you decide.”

Ivy narrowed her eyes mischievously, sizing him up before blurting out, “Let’s shave it all off, then!”

Jamison’s eyes widened in disbelief. He arched a brow at her. “If I do, are you going to become a nun right alongside me?”

She scoffed, “Keep dreaming.” Clearly, she was kidding—she already had an idea in mind and relayed it to Tony.

Tony nodded in agreement. “Miss Windsor, if you ever want a career change, you’d make a fantastic stylist yourself,”

“Thank you,” Ivy replied with a gracious smile.

She’d always been the overachiever, the girl everyone envied—no wonder she was recognized as the social queen of Neo Haven, the one all the heirs and trust fund kids tried to woo.

But perfection had its price.

Her brilliance and beauty had sparked Emma’s jealousy, fueling three years of torment she’d rather forget.

The thought of Emma brought a chill to Ivy’s smile. Bitterness welled up inside her.

Suddenly, a familiar voice startled her, making her brows knit together. She turned—and there Emma was.

Emma wasn’t alone; Rosetta stood beside her.

That didn’t make sense. Today was Emma’s engagement party with Sheridan—shouldn’t she be busy with the festivities? Why was she wandering around the mall?

Before Ivy could puzzle it out, Rosetta’s gaze swept the salon and landed on her. She looked just as surprised.

“Ivy! What are you doing here? What a coincidence.”

Rosetta hurried over and, after greeting Ivy, glanced further inside and spotted Jamison. Her tone turned even more respectful. “Mr. Jamison, you’re here as well.” Jamison gave her a cool, indifferent look, quietly relieved that he’d decided to tag along. Otherwise, who knew what kind of scene would unfold with Ivy running into the Windsors alone?

Ivy met Rosetta’s gaze with a blank expression. Even though this was her own mother, she might as well have been a stranger.

Emma was equally stunned. She stepped forward, saying, “What are the odds—you’re here for a haircut too?”

And with Mr. Jamison, no less.

She’d always heard from Micah that Jamison was unpredictable and frosty—even his own family barely dared approach him, and anyone who did was left shivering in his wake.