When Jamison and Ivy returned to Golden Maple Estate, Boyd was already waiting downstairs, accompanied by an agent who had previously visited The Windsor Group.

As they headed upstairs, Ivy’s phone buzzed. It was a call from the building’s concierge: guests had arrived.

“They’re certainly eager–barely past eight and they’re already here.” A faint, sardonic smile tugged at Ivy’s lips.

Jamison shrugged. “I doubt they’ve had much sleep lately.”

Moments later, the intercom chimed at the front entrance. Boyd went to open the door.

Downstairs, Adkins stood with his wife, Rosetta, and son, Baillie, waiting outside the security door.

The lock clicked open, and as they stepped inside, all three wore complicated expressions.

They entered the soaring, marble-clad lobby—golden light spilling across polished floors. Baillie looked around, wide-eyed. “This place must cost a fortune. And Ivy lives in the penthouse? How on earth did she afford something like this?”

Rosetta’s face was stiff with barely concealed resentment. “It must have been Micah who bought it for her. He probably felt guilty and tried to make up for it with money.”

Back then, their daughter hadn’t yet been with Jamison, and they certainly didn’t have that kind of cash themselves.

Baillie frowned. “But what about her car? That’s another couple hundred grand, at least.”

Rosetta shot her son a look. “Don’t you remember? As soon as she came back, she gathered up all her old jewelry and sold it off, dirt cheap. Used that for the car.”

Even now, the thought of those jewels made Rosetta’s heart ache.

They’d easily been worth over a million, but her eldest daughter had unloaded them for a fraction of their value. What a loss!

“If I’d known she’d turn out so ungrateful, such a disappointment, I never would have bought her all those jewels. Twenty years raising her, millions spent, and this is how she repays us? Selfish child!” The more Rosetta spoke, the angrier she got—her eyes reddening with bitter frustration.

Adkins stepped into the elevator and turned to scold his wife. “Enough. Complaining won’t change anything. If we bring her back home today, we’ll get our investment’s worth soon enough. She’s married to Jamison–Mrs. Jamison of the Ludwig family! That alone proves our efforts weren’t wasted.”

The truth was, their biggest hope in raising Ivy had always been that she’d climb her way into the upper crust.

They’d never imagined a foster daughter would ruin their plans.

And they certainly never dreamed that, after so much scandal, their disgraced eldest would still manage to marry into one of the wealthiest families in the city.

Regret had haunted them ever since.

If they’d known things would turn out like this, they would have at least found her a nice place to live when she returned–let her recover in comfort, instead of letting their relationship deteriorate so badly.

Rosetta, chastened by her husband, quickly recomposed herself and muttered, “I just worry… she may not want to come home with us.”

Baillie piped up suddenly, “Oh, by the way–did you know Ivy’s gone back to school? She’s living on campus now, not here.”

Adkins looked stunned. “Back to school? She’s married to Jamison–what’s she doing with her head in books? Her job now is to take care of her husband and start having kids for the Ludwig family. She’s not getting any younger! What kind of nonsense is this–moving into a dorm?”

Rosetta was equally incredulous. “Who told you that? Why haven’t you mentioned it before?”

“I heard it over drinks last weekend. Some friends have siblings at Neo Haven University. They said the campus beauty, Ivy, was back, and asked if it was true.”

Baillie had been having a rough time lately, constantly networking, buying dinners, schmoozing for investment deals. He’d been drinking too much, and the news had slipped his mind until just now.

Adkins shook his head in exasperation. “She must be out of her mind after all those years away. Married into wealth, and she still wants to play student? She should be focused on keeping her husband happy!”

With a soft chime, the elevator doors slid open.

The three of them hurried out.

Marble floors gleamed beneath their feet; the grandeur of the foyer was overwhelming. The Windsor family couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy at Ivy’s comfortable, luxurious life.

They made their way to the penthouse. Before they could even ring the bell, the heavy mahogany door swung open.

Boyd stood at the threshold, smiling politely. “Mr. Windsor, Mrs. Windsor, Mr. Windsor–welcome.”

Rosetta didn’t recognize him, but Adkins and Baillie did. He was a well-known investor in their circle. They exchanged quick, curious glances–what was Boyd doing here?

But the father and son weren’t slow on the uptake; realization dawned almost immediately. “Mr. Ludwig… you and Mr. Jamison are…?”

Boyd’s smile deepened. “He’s my uncle–our families have always been close.”

Understanding clicked into place for Adkins and Baillie.

Inside, the penthouse was beyond lavish—“luxurious” hardly did it justice. The Windsors' feelings grew even more tangled as they looked around.

Ivy’s affluence stood in stark contrast to their own decline.

For a moment, the three of them felt like country bumpkins gawking at a royal palace.

In the living room, Jamison was sprawled carelessly on the sofa, one arm casually resting around Ivy’s waist. Ivy sat prim and poised, but from a distance, it looked as if she was nestled against her husband’s side.

The Windsors took in the scene. Each harbored their own thoughts, but one thing was clear: Mr. Jamison truly doted on Ivy.

“Ivy, Mr. Jamison–it’s been a long time,” Adkins said after an awkward silence, forcing a cordial smile as he broke the ice.

Jamison barely spared them a glance.

Ivy’s expression was equally unreadable. Her gaze flicked over them, and she asked, almost idly, “Where’s your daughter? I haven’t seen her in ages. I was just thinking of her, actually. I hope all is well, now that she’s found her Prince Charming.”