Katrina gave a wistful sigh. “He really does love you, you know.”

Ivy smiled, cheeks tinged with a shy blush. “Yeah, I know.”

Watching her friend’s uncharacteristically bashful expression, Katrina caught on and lowered her voice. “You two made up, then?”

Ivy gave a dismissive snort, but her eyes sparkled with candor. “Please. We’re married—what else are we going to do? With his status, the fact that he’s willing to humble himself is already more than enough. I’d be a fool not to let things be.”

Katrina nodded in wholehearted agreement, flashing her a thumbs-up.

Once Jamison finished tidying up the kitchen and emerged, Ivy tossed her hair with a touch of bravado. “Alright, you go do your thing. Katrina and I are heading out for some shopping. If you’re free later, you can pick me up.”

Which, in their unspoken language, was as good as agreeing to move back into Ludwig Mansion, at least for now.

Looking thoroughly pleased, Jamison’s handsome features broke into a smile.

“Sure. Walk me downstairs?”

“Oh, please. Why would I walk you down, you’re not—”

Before Ivy could finish, Katrina gave her a shove, steering her straight toward Jamison. “Go on, see him out. If you don’t, I’m not coming shopping with you!”

Ivy shot her friend a mock glare, calling her a traitor, but Jamison was already pulling her out the door.

Of course, seeing him off was just an excuse. Stealing a kiss was the real goal.

No sooner had they stepped outside than Jamison turned, pressed her against the wall, and lowered his head for a kiss.

Ivy flailed her arms in dramatic protest, which only made him laugh, taking her resistance as playful teasing.

When the kiss finally ended, Ivy rolled her eyes in exasperation and shoved him away. “Go on, before Katrina starts making fun of me again.”

“She’ll only be delighted for you,” Jamison replied with a grin, then asked, ever considerate, “You have enough money for shopping?”

“Of course I do.”

He chuckled. “That’s right, I almost forgot—Miss Ivy, published author since middle school.”

She nudged him with a smile. “Anything you want while I’m out? Since you’ve been so generous with me, maybe I should return the favor.”

Jamison looked genuinely surprised, his dark eyes lighting up with pleasure. “If you want to buy me something, I’ll love whatever you choose.”

She scoffed, tossing him a playful glare. “In your dreams. Now get going, I’m not walking you all the way down.” With a flick of her hand, she turned away. “Bye!”

It had been ages since they’d gone shopping, and with the change of season, the stores were bursting with new arrivals.

The two of them lost track of time as they browsed—though it was mostly Ivy doing the buying, while Katrina just admired from afar.

“This trench coat is perfect for you,” Ivy coaxed, admiring Katrina in a lightweight beige number. “It’s not expensive, the fit is great, and you’ll get plenty of wear out of it. Go on, buy it!”

Katrina peeked at the price tag tucked inside the lining, then shook her head. “No need. I already have a few at home.”

For the Lester family, a thousand-dollar coat was barely a blip on the radar. But for Katrina, it amounted to two months of her mother’s care at the nursing home.

She just couldn’t justify it.

Ivy, well aware that Katrina’s finances were tight—her friend was in grad school, scraping together extra cash from research projects and saving every penny for emergencies—watched her hang the coat back on the rack. Without a word, Ivy plucked it off again and headed to the register to pay for both their items.

Katrina tried to protest, reaching to snatch it back, but Ivy blocked her. “Come on, can’t I buy something for myself too? I like it.”

With that, Katrina could only relent, though she was still a little embarrassed.

Just as the commotion died down, a familiar voice drifted over from behind a display rack nearby.

“Mrs. Burke, please, could you talk to Mr. Burke for us? Just give us a little more time. We’re not trying to dodge our debts, we’re just in a tough spot right now. If Mr. Burke sues and the project gets shut down and our accounts are frozen, it’ll be impossible for us to pay anything back!”

“Mrs. Windsor, how many times have you asked me that?” Mrs. Burke’s voice was sharp, almost mocking. “Every time I talk to Burke about it, he chews me out. And you want me to go back for more? Your eldest daughter married Mr. Jamison, your youngest married into the Carter family, and you expect anyone to believe the Windsor family’s broke? You just think you can lean on your sons-in-law and push people around.”

“Mrs. Burke, it’s not like that… My daughters married well, yes, but their lives are their own. We don’t want to be a burden to them. Please, just—”

“Oh, now you’re talking sense? Funny, that’s not the story I heard. Word is, the Windsor family kicked your eldest out because she was kidnapped and ruined the family name. Now Mr. Jamison treats her like a treasure, and you’re desperate to cling to her again—but she’s not stupid enough to let you drag her down.”

“And as for your youngest, an adopted daughter… who knows what you were thinking there. You doted on her, but I hear she doesn’t even stay in touch anymore. And Mr. Carter? I heard he’s a real brute—beats her up, parades her around at parties like some kind of trophy. It’s just sad, really.”

Ivy clutched her new clothes, frozen in place. She didn’t walk away; she just stood there, listening as the society wives picked apart her family’s dirty laundry.

Good news never travels far, but bad news? That’s everyone’s favorite topic.

The Windsor family’s scandals were now open secrets, passed around their social circle like after-dinner gossip.

Katrina slipped her arm through Ivy’s, voice gentle. “Come on, let’s go. Don’t let them get to you.”

Ivy nodded. She had no desire to linger, so she started to walk away.

But as they rounded the display, Mrs. Burke caught sight of them and called out, delighted, “Well, if it isn’t Miss Ivy! What a coincidence!”

Her words instantly drew the attention of everyone nearby.

Ivy instinctively glanced over at the sound, and what she saw made her stop short.

There, kneeling on the floor like a servant from another era, was her own mother—once proud and unyielding—helping Mrs. Burke slip on a new pair of shoes.