They had been utterly stunned back then.
At the time, though, Baillie was convinced it was Jamison’s connections guiding Ivy behind the scenes—how else could she pull off something so impressive? But now, it was obvious: that had all been her own skill.
He thought of how, after the Windsor family threw her out, she hadn’t ended up homeless or desperate. Instead, she was driving a luxury car, living in a beautiful home, thriving in every sense of the word. And back then, she hadn’t even married Jamison yet. So she must have achieved financial independence through stock trading long before any of that.
As Baillie pieced it all together, regret surged through him, relentless and consuming.
“Mr. Windsor, do you have any further questions? If you’re doubting our team’s professionalism, you’re welcome to find someone else,” Edmond said coolly, snapping Baillie out of his daze.
Baillie quickly collected himself, apologizing at once. “I’m sorry, Mr. Shaw, I didn’t mean it that way. Quantum Hedge Securities has an impeccable reputation in the industry, and your expertise is second to none—it was my mistake.”
With that, he respectfully invited Mr. Shaw and his team to the conference room.
The meeting dragged on right up until lunchtime. Afterward, the Windsor Group hosted a business lunch, and everyone headed out together.
At the restaurant, Baillie seized an opportunity to pull Ivy aside.
“Is there something you wanted to discuss, Mr. Windsor?” Ivy asked evenly.
Baillie watched her, his gaze searching and wary. “Ivy, whatever’s happened between us is over. You’re not planning to sabotage this project, are you?”
He was treating Ivy like some petty schemer.
But as far as Ivy was concerned, the grudges were long since settled. Emma was dead. The Windsor family had fallen from grace. Even Windsor Manor was gone—burned to the ground. As long as the Windsors left her alone, she had no interest in bothering them again.
“If that’s what you’re worried about, you can relax,” Ivy replied calmly. “I’m just doing my job. As someone working on this project, I want it to succeed as much as anyone.”
“'Just doing your job'…” Baillie echoed with a sardonic smile. “You think Jamison would really let you work this hard?”
“I’ve endured far worse these past three years. This is nothing. And besides, this job is only temporary.”
Her words, light and mocking, left Baillie looking embarrassed.
It was true: in finance, credentials mattered, but so did real ability. Otherwise, how could you ever expect clients to trust you with their money? Even if Jamison doted on his wife, he wasn’t the type to coddle her blindly. Ivy needed to start at the bottom, prove herself, build experience.
But with her talent—and Jamison’s network—there was no way she’d be an ordinary employee forever.
Meanwhile, if Baillie failed to pull off this restructuring, he wouldn’t even get to be a regular employee. He’d be buried in debt and disgrace, lucky if he could scrape by delivering groceries for a living.
The thought made his nerves spike, anxiety twisting in his gut.
He stood there silently, fists clenched, wrestling with himself before finally speaking. “As long as you don’t make things harder for the Windsor Group, that’s all I ask. We’re still family, after all. Please—just leave us a way out.”
To say that was as good as admitting defeat; it was practically a plea for mercy.
Ivy’s expression flickered with surprise.
After a moment, she replied softly, “I never set out to make trouble for anyone. You’re the ones who always treated me with hostility.”
With that, she turned and headed back to the private dining room.
She had considered asking about the car accident, but since Baillie claimed their old grudges were finished, there was no point dragging it up again. Besides, whether she asked or not, Jamison was already having someone investigate—just to be safe.
What Ivy didn’t know was that Baillie later recounted everything that had happened to his parents.
When Adkins and Rosetta Windsor found out just how capable their daughter was, their regret was so deep it hurt.
Just before the end of the workday, Ivy’s phone lit up with a call from her best friend.
“Ivy, we’re coming to pick you up after work—dinner’s on us tonight!” Katrina’s voice was bright and cheerful on the line.
Ivy frowned. “What, am I going to be your third wheel?”
“Excuse me? Obviously, Naylor’s the third wheel. Katrina and I are the true love story here!”
Ivy couldn’t help but laugh.
Knowing they were already on their way, she didn’t bother to refuse and agreed happily.
That evening, Naylor treated the two girls to a feast—good food, good wine, plenty of laughter. After dinner, they wandered through the shops, indulging in a little retail therapy, before finally heading home.
Down in the underground parking lot at Golden Maple Estate, Naylor popped open the trunk and pulled out a travel bag.
Katrina teased him, “Wow, so prepared—planning to move in for good?”
Naylor shot her a mischievous grin. “You know what they say—easy to invite in, tough to kick out.”
Ivy rolled her eyes at their banter and hurried ahead, just as her phone rang. Seeing Jamison’s name, she quickly answered.
“Hello?”
Jamison heard the elevator chime in the background and asked, puzzled, “You’re only just getting home now?”
“Yeah, Mr. Wilson treated us to a night out. We just got back, and as soon as I walk in, you call.”