“Katrina?” Ivy’s voice drifted in from the hallway, but there was no reply. She called again, a bit louder this time. “Are you still asleep?”

Upstairs, tangled in the sheets and pinned beneath Naylor’s weight, Katrina was definitely wide awake now – her heart thundering, cheeks flushed.

“Uh–yeah! I’m up! You go on to work!” she called back, her voice cracking as she tried to sound casual.

Ivy stifled a laugh behind her hand, spun on her heel, and practically skipped down the stairs. As soon as she was out the door and out of earshot, she burst into laughter, unable to hold it in any longer. Fumbling for her phone, she sent Jamison a voice message on WhatsApp.

“Oh my god, I did something wicked first thing this morning. Hope I didn’t give them a heart attack! Hahaha!”

Back upstairs, the two “guilty” parties were still frozen in place long after Ivy had left.

Katrina’s face was scarlet, and she was mortified – she couldn’t imagine ever facing anyone again.

Naylor was gritting his teeth. “I told you she’s got eyes everywhere. Jamison keeps saying I’m paranoid about his wife, but she knew exactly what she was doing!”

His grumbling only made Katrina more exasperated. She balled her fists and pounded on his chest. “This is all your fault! Why did you sneak upstairs last night? Now Ivy knows! How am I supposed to look her in the eye?”

Naylor huffed and silenced her complaints with a kiss, his tone wicked. “She’s gone. It’s just the two of us now – don’t waste a perfectly good morning.”

He was the boss, after all. Being late wasn’t exactly a problem for him.

Katrina’s protests faded into half-hearted punches, which only seemed to encourage Naylor further. He couldn’t help thinking – it’d be a crime not to make the most of all that energy.

After Ivy joined the team working on The Windsor Group project, it was inevitable she’d cross paths with Baillie again.

Baillie finally relaxed when he saw Ivy wasn’t standing in the way of the project’s progress.

But just as things at work started to settle, chaos erupted at home.

His wife – still emotionally unstable after her miscarriage – was picking fights over everything. She blamed Baillie for not caring about her, for being obsessed with the company, for not mourning the baby enough. Their arguments grew more explosive by the day, and sometimes, in the heat of the moment, she’d even lash out physically, leaving Baillie with bruises and a split lip.

Baillie wasn’t exactly a patient man, but with so much riding on his wife – especially now, with the company’s restructuring on the line – he couldn’t afford to push her too far. If she filed for divorce, the entire business deal could implode.

Baillie could grit his teeth and endure it, but his mother, Rosetta, had no such patience.

No mother could stand by watching her son get battered by his wife – especially when that wife was only a few years younger than herself, and Rosetta had never approved of her to begin with.

So, after discovering where Ivy worked, Rosetta decided to pay her a personal visit.

It was lunch hour. Ivy had just ordered food and was about to eat when a coworker approached her desk. “Ivy, there’s someone here to see you.”

She paused, surprised – she couldn’t think of anyone who’d drop by the office. Still, curiosity got the better of her, and she went out to the lobby.

There stood Rosetta.

Ivy wasn’t all that surprised; she figured Baillie must have told his family something about her.

“Mrs. Windsor, what can I do for you?” She kept her distance, still unable to bring herself to say “Mom.”

Rosetta looked nervous. Glancing around self-consciously, she spoke in a gentle, almost pleading tone. “Ivy, could we talk somewhere more private?”

Ivy didn’t feel like entertaining her. “I haven’t had lunch yet. If you’ve got something to say, just say it here.”

Rosetta hesitated, glancing at the open office. “This is your workplace – I’d hate for anyone to overhear and cause you trouble. You haven’t eaten? Let me buy you lunch, please?”

Ivy was caught off guard by her consideration; it was rare for Rosetta to think about anyone but her son.

She eyed Rosetta. “No need for lunch. There’s a café on the rooftop terrace. Let’s go.”

Rosetta immediately fell into step beside her.

Once they reached the rooftop and found a seat, Ivy wasted no time. “So, what do you want?”

Rosetta approached, then, without warning, dropped to her knees in front of Ivy. “Ivy, I’m so sorry, I was wrong.”