Chapter 617

If Ivy had deliberately lied or hidden the truth, then it would be understandable for the family to be angry—pressuring her, lashing out with harsh words. But that wasn’t the case.

So it was only right that he, her husband, should step up, take the heat, and push back against the family’s pressure.

After laying it all out, Jamison finished with, “You shouldn’t go back to the house anymore. You deserve a little peace and quiet.”

Ivy smiled softly, turning sideways and leaning against the seat to gaze dreamily at his handsome profile. “Dr. Ludwig…”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

She blurted it out before she could stop herself, making Jamison glance over, lips curling into a wickedly charming smile.

“I’m driving. Don’t start confessing your love right now.”

Ivy’s face froze. She quickly turned away, muttering under her breath, “Fine, don’t listen if you don’t like it.”

He laughed. “How could I not want to hear it? I want to hear it so much, I’m tempted to pull over and show you exactly how much.”

Ivy didn’t answer, but she couldn’t hide the grin tugging at her lips.

A moment later, she shot him a playful look and grumbled, “You’re such a rogue.”

Jamison decided to meet with the Carters and had Boyd send word back to them.

But when he left the house that morning, Ivy was still asleep.

He’d promised her last night that she’d get a full night’s rest, but after her sweet confession in the car, he couldn’t help himself—he had to return the favor, and they ended up tangled in bed for another hour.

So, naturally, Ivy couldn’t drag herself out of bed.

He scribbled a note and stuck it to her phone, pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, tucked the comforter around her, and slipped out quietly.

The meeting was set for a private club, and to Jamison’s surprise, both Sheridan and Emma were there.

It hadn’t been that long since he’d last seen Sheridan, but the man looked like a shadow of his former self.

Sheridan sat slumped in a wheelchair, noticeably thinner, his skin waxy and sallow. He looked like someone whose days were numbered.

Jamison frowned. With the Carter family’s resources, even kidney failure could be managed—maybe not cured, but at least his suffering could be eased, his quality of life improved. How had Sheridan ended up in such a miserable state?

Unless, of course, his kidneys weren’t the only thing failing.

When Jamison walked in with his people—but without Ivy—Sheridan glared at him from under heavy lids. “Where’s Ivy? Too afraid to show her face?”

Jamison just smiled, unconcerned. “She’s still sleeping. This isn’t worth disturbing her rest.”

The moment Emma heard that, jealousy surged through her like a flood.

Sick as she was, with a child she’d never get to hold, her future looked bleak and hopeless. The woman who’d ruined her—who’d brought her to this pitiful state—was still basking in wealth and love, cherished and protected.

Life was so unfair. How could she accept it?

Once, she could fall back on the Windsor family, but now even they had turned their backs on her, written her off completely.

The more Emma thought about it, the more unhinged she became, her anger boiling over.

Standing behind Sheridan, she clenched her fists so tightly her nails dug into her palms, but she felt nothing. Her face twisted with rage, eyes burning with hatred.

Jamison glanced at her, curious as to why she was back with Sheridan, but before he could speak, she snapped—launching herself at them like someone possessed, screaming, “If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me! You’re all coming with me!”

Jamison had come prepared, flanked by his bodyguards.

Before Emma could get anywhere close, the guards rushed forward and restrained her.

But she fought like a madwoman, thrashing against their hold, even snapping her jaws like she meant to bite.