“Jamison…” Ivy moved to her husband’s side, her voice low and steady. “Let’s just send them away. There’s no point in arguing.”
Jamison nodded in agreement, already of the same mind. He turned to Boyd, who stood nearby. “Boyd, see our guests out.”
Boyd stepped forward and gestured toward the exit. “Mr. Shepherd, I’m going to have to ask you and your family to leave.”
But the leader of the Shepherd family didn’t budge. Instead, he turned his scorn on Ivy, his voice rising with mockery. “Ivy, you really are something! Kidnapped and missing for three years, and you still managed to crawl back alive—and now you’ve latched onto Jamison, married into the Ludwigs, and become Mrs. Jamison herself. Remember when you dated Micah? He brought you to dinner with us. The whole night, he couldn’t take his eyes off you, piling your plate with whatever you liked. Micah loved you, truly. And this is how you repay him? You got him killed!”
He jabbed a finger at Jamison, venom dripping from every word. “And you, Jamison. Sure, you’re a doctor—but you’re as ruthless as they come, making a killing off the desperate and the dying! Outsiders might not know, but we do. Your surgeries cost a fortune. You and your precious Ludwigs, lording your power over everyone, trampling lives like they’re nothing!”
Another man joined in, pointing an accusing finger. “Your sister killed someone and just walks free! Insanity plea? You think we’re idiots? She’s faking it just to escape the law!”
The Shepherds were like a pack of wild dogs, biting at anyone they could reach.
Jamison tightened his grip on Ivy’s hand, shielding her behind him. He shot Boyd a glance, just a subtle tilt of his head.
Boyd caught the signal instantly and called over a handful of young men, who wasted no time hustling the Shepherds toward the door.
Chaos broke loose.
“Carla! You killed my brother! Murderer! The Ludwigs use their money and power to bribe the police—letting you play the crazy woman, dodging justice. None of the Ludwigs are decent! Carla’s a killer, Thad’s a bloodsucking tycoon, Jamison’s a butcher with a stethoscope!”
“We want justice! A life for a life!” The Shepherd clan howled in unison, waving their fists in the air, their voices swelling into a chant.
Someone unfurled a black-and-white banner and held it high for all to see: JUSTICE FOR MY BROTHER—CARLA MUST PAY. THE LUDWIGS CAN’T BUY THEIR WAY OUT.
It was clear they had come not just for grief, but for war.
The commotion only grew, drawing guests from every corner of the house. The Ludwig family’s scandals had long been the subject of gossip in elite circles, twisted and retold with every passing month.
Especially Jamison’s marriage—everyone knew Ivy’s complicated past: the Windsor family’s cast-off daughter, Micah’s ex, now suddenly wed to Jamison, making her her ex-boyfriend’s step-aunt. For ages, the tangled love triangle had been the juiciest topic in high society.
Eventually, the Ludwigs stopped responding to rumors. Jamison, for his part, openly doted on Ivy and even warned off the city’s young bachelors. The scandal wore itself out, fading from conversation.
But today, with the Shepherd family stirring up trouble, curiosity reignited. The crowd pressed in, whispering and speculating, desperate for a front-row seat.
“Where’s Carla? Bring her out! She killed my brother—she owes us an explanation!”
“Yeah! Return the Shepherds‘ inheritance! And pay us what we’re owed!”
“A life! She took a life!”
“Carla! Come out! Don’t pretend to be crazy. You’re not fooling anyone!”
The Shepherds kept up their barrage, baiting and shouting.
Inside the parlor, Davina and the other Ludwig women sat with Carla, keeping her company, hoping to shield her from the ruckus outside.
But some things can’t be avoided.
Carla, though confused and barely lucid, still remembered her own name. She mumbled, “Someone’s calling me… someone’s calling me…” She turned, staring toward the doorway.
“Carla, ignore them. Just stay here with us—” Davina tried to soothe her, but before she could finish, Carla suddenly shot to her feet and bolted for the door.
“Carla! Carla!” Guests scattered, craning to see the drama unfold.
Carla moved fast, shoving her way through the crowd, sending people stumbling in every direction, drawing curses from startled mourners.
Davina and the other women couldn’t keep up.
At the entrance, a side table was piled with fruit and pastries for guests. Carla grabbed a platter, her voice slicing through the chaos: “Ivy! Ivy!”
She had spotted Ivy the moment she emerged from the parlor.
She hated Ivy—though she couldn’t remember why, the urge to attack her was overwhelming.
Plate in hand, Carla charged straight for her.
Jamison’s instincts were razor sharp; even in the midst of chaos, he caught the faintest cry of “Ivy.” He spun around, eyes narrowing, and with lightning speed, pulled Ivy into his arms, shielding her.
There was a sickening thud—the heavy platter crashed down on Jamison’s head, striking him so hard he nearly lost his balance.
Gasps and shouts erupted from the crowd. Boyd went pale but kept his composure, reacting instantly; before Carla could strike again, he tackled her, forcing her away.
Others rushed to wrest the platter from her hands, but Carla, wild-eyed and frenzied, broke free, shoving aside anyone who tried to stop her as she hurled herself at the Shepherd clan.