“Uncle… I know Emma made mistakes, but she’s been punished enough, hasn’t she? Can’t you just let it go?”

“Hopeless…” Ivy’s lips curled into a cold, bitter smile as she heard this, too angry to even listen anymore. She shook her head and sank back onto the bed.

Jamison shut his eyes in frustration, jaw clenched, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

“Micah, can’t you see Emma’s using you? Both the Carters and the Windsors have cut her off. She’s got nowhere else to go, so she’s latching onto you. Everyone else avoids her like the plague, but you’re running straight into trouble?”

Sometimes Jamison wondered how the Shepherd family could produce someone so dense. Their ancestors must be rolling in their graves.

But Micah wasn’t swayed; instead, he shot back, “If you all know she’s desperate, why are you still pushing her? Do you really have to drive her to the edge to feel satisfied? She’s pregnant–no matter what, the child is innocent. If something happens to her, that’s two lives lost. Can you really live with that?”

“Uncle, you’re a renowned doctor. Your job is to save lives, not destroy them. Where’s your conscience? And Ivy, I know she’s suffered–she’s paid her price too. Can’t this cycle of grudges finally end?”

Ivy couldn’t take it anymore. She reached for her husband’s arm and tugged. “Hang up. If he insists on making his own bed, let him. We can’t control his fate–let’s just respect his choices.”

Let go of the need to save everyone. Respect the path others choose.

Of course, Jamison understood this. He felt a wave of disappointment–and before hanging up, he made his point crystal clear. “Emma’s just using you, Micah. If you’re so eager to be her pawn, don’t come crying to me when things go wrong, and don’t go playing the victim with the Ludwigs, either.”

He wanted to lay it all out, so there’d be no excuse later if his parents got dragged into the mess.

Micah replied, “Emma’s only asking for a place to stay. She hasn’t used me for anything. We loved each other once–she even lost a child for me. I just don’t want to be heartless.”

Jamison let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Well, Mr. Shepherd, looks like you’ve finally grown up–so responsible. Good for you.”

Micah flushed with humiliation, wanting to argue, but Jamison ended the call before he could say another word.

Emma, curled up in his arms, had heard every word exchanged.

As he set his phone aside, she smiled, satisfied. Kneeling up in his embrace, she leaned in and kissed him.

“Micah, I love you… I’ve always loved you. I only got together with Sheridan to get back at you… Micah, let me be yours… you’ve been so good to me–I want to give you something in return…” She was passionate, gentle, and completely unreserved. No man could resist a woman so eager, so willing.

He hesitated, but only for a moment, before Emma pulled him under once again…

After the call, Jamison’s expression was icy as he replayed the recording, forwarding it to Carla without a word.

It was late, and she didn’t reply.

But at dawn, before he was even fully awake, his phone rang insistently.

Not wanting to wake the woman beside him, he snatched up the phone and silenced it, squinting at the screen.

Carla.

He glanced back at Ivy, making sure she was still asleep, then slipped quietly out of bed and into the living room balcony before answering.

“Jamison, I just finished listening to that recording. Micah didn’t come home last night, and he won’t answer his phone. What should I do?” Carla was finally panicking, turning to her younger brother for help.

Jamison’s voice was flat. “Do nothing. If he wants to ruin his life, not even a miracle can save him.”

“That’s not possible, Jamison… Emma’s going to drag Micah down with her!”

“Nothing I can do. I told you ages ago to send him abroad. You wouldn’t listen–so what’s the point of asking me now?” Jamison was running on too little sleep and too much frustration. His tone was sharp. “I’m busy. Bye.”

He hung up without waiting for a response.

It was still early. He padded quietly back to the bedroom.

As soon as he slipped under the covers, Ivy, eyes still closed, nestled into his arms and mumbled, “Was it your sister?”

“Yeah.”

She just sighed, nothing more to say.

Because, really, what was the point?

Jamison had intended to get a little more sleep, but his mind was restless–and with his beautiful wife in his arms, the morning heat was impossible to ignore.

Ivy felt his hand begin to wander. Her brow furrowed slightly. She opened her eyes and looked at him.

He met her gaze and apologized at once. “Sorry. Go back to sleep…”

He quietly withdrew his hand.

Ivy knew he was in a bad mood.

Words wouldn’t help much. Maybe a bit of distraction would clear the storm cloud over his head.

So she gently took his hand and pulled it back. “If you want to, go ahead…”

Jamison’s eyes widened in surprise, clearly caught off guard.

But with his wife giving him the green light, he wasn’t about to refuse–that would only embarrass her.

A smile broke through his gloom. He leaned in, kissed her lips, and murmured, “Then let me carry you to the shower…”

Before Ivy could reply, he was already out of bed, sweeping her into his arms in a classic bridal carry.

Ivy instinctively looped her arms around his neck, blushing and half–resigned, half–embarrassed. “Every time, you only care about hygiene. Doesn’t it kill the mood?”

“Not at all. Your health comes first.”

He was a doctor, after all. He knew better than anyone how important hygiene was in married life.

So many women’s health problems came from careless men.

Most men only cared about their own pleasure, never realizing how much their wives had to endure.

Ivy thought, Well, at least I don’t have to do the heavy lifting–he handles everything. She smiled, letting it go.

But after their shower, when things were heating up in the bedroom again, Jamison suddenly paused, a thought crossing his mind.

“Do you have any protection here?”

Ivy blinked in confusion. “Protection? Is it raining outside?”