As soon as he stood up, a few of the stylists in the salon couldn’t help but stare at him, their eyes practically sparkling with adoration.
Naturally, the men nearby had their gazes locked on Ivy.
Someone even whispered, “Is she a new celebrity? She’s gorgeous—definitely going to be famous!”
This high-end salon was a favorite among celebrities, so it was no wonder people jumped to conclusions.
Jamison’s jealousy flared up again. The moment he saw so many men openly ogling his wife, his expression darkened. With a cold, warning glare, he pulled Ivy firmly into his arms.
Caught off guard, Ivy stumbled into his embrace and shot him an annoyed look. “What do you think you’re doing? Did you forget your back’s still injured?”
He lowered his voice, murmuring, “Sometimes I wish I could just hide you away.”
Ivy rolled her eyes, suppressing a laugh as she shot back, “And what would you do with a toddler, exactly? You do realize it’s illegal to bully minors, right?”
“Sharp tongue. Petty as ever.”
He’d only made a casual remark, but she never missed a chance to fire back.
As they were about to leave the salon, Ivy suddenly remembered something.
She let Jamison hold her close and deliberately led him over to the lounge area.
“Emma, take your time, we’ll head out first. See you tonight.” Her voice was gentle, and as she turned to leave, she tossed Emma a playful, triumphant glance, waving her elegant fingers cheerfully in farewell.
Emma clenched the throw pillow in her arms so tightly her knuckles turned white, lips pressed together in anger. Watching Ivy show off like that left her trembling with frustration.
Rosetta, watching her eldest daughter’s reaction, felt an indescribable mix of emotions.
They’d tried so hard to reconcile with Ivy, but no matter what they did, nothing seemed to work.
When you want something you can’t have, it’s human nature to turn that longing into resentment—even hatred. That was the Windsor family’s tangled attitude toward Ivy now: eager to win her favor, yet simmering with bitterness, even though she was their own flesh and blood.
The pair grabbed a quick lunch at the mall before heading to a flagship boutique to look for an evening gown.
Ivy used to be a regular here, but after three years away, the new sales associate didn’t recognize her.
Fortunately, the staff were sharp enough to notice their striking looks and impeccable style. Even if they couldn’t name the designers, it was obvious their clothes were custom-made from top-quality fabrics. The sales associate greeted them warmly.
When she learned Ivy was shopping for an evening dress, she led her over to the ready-to-wear section.
But Jamison’s attention was immediately captured by a white gown displayed front and center.
It wasn’t overly revealing—off-the-shoulder, with delicate butterfly accents on each side and a full, airy skirt adorned with three-dimensional butterflies. Under the showroom lights, the dress looked like something out of a fairy tale, as if a garden nymph or a fluttering butterfly had come to life—breathtaking, elegant, and enchanting.
“Ivy, try this one,” he called out, stopping her as she was about to walk further in. Ivy glanced back, her eyes lighting up. “You have great taste.”
The sales associate hesitated, looking a bit uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, sir, but that evening gown is a limited edition from our new couture collection. It’s currently just for display and not for sale. I hope you understand.”
Jamison’s expression didn’t change. “Didn’t you make the dress for someone to wear? What’s the point of leaving it on display? Get your manager, please.”