“No, that’s not true!” Emma burst out, shaking her head. “Dad, Mom–it was Ivy! She put that thing in my clothes. I couldn’t see anything with my head covered; I thought it was a snake! I was terrified–I just said whatever she told me to! She was threatening me, making me confess! Officer, you have to believe me. I only said what she wanted under duress, it doesn’t count!”
Emma pleaded with her parents, her voice desperate, then turned to argue frantically with the police.
But Ivy knew–Emma’s frantic denial wouldn’t be enough to convict her. Unless someone could find the traffickers she’d colluded with all those years ago and get them to testify, there was no real proof.
The real reason Ivy had exposed everything in front of everyone was to see whether her biological parents and brother would believe her or not.
Sure enough, Adkins and Rosetta’s faces softened a little as they listened to their youngest daughter’s explanation. “Emma, tell us the truth–did you have anything to do with Ivy’s kidnapping?”
“No! Dad, if Ivy hadn’t saved me that day, I would’ve been the one taken! Why would I help someone kidnap myself?” Emma sobbed, her words tumbling out.
Worried that the Windsors might not believe her, she glanced around, then suddenly cried out, “I guess the only way to prove my innocence is to die-!”
Before anyone could react, she shoved Rosetta aside, rushed to the dining table, and slammed her forehead against the marble edge.
“Emma!”
“Emma-!”
Blood streamed down Emma’s face as she collapsed in a heap, unconscious.
Chaos erupted. The Windsors and Micah hurried to her, fumbling to lift her off the floor. “Call an ambulance! Hurry!”
Micah’s mind raced. He rushed over to Jamison. “Uncle–please, come quickly! Emma’s hurt, there’s so much blood-”
Jamison frowned, exasperated. He’d given up his rare day off just to attend this birthday dinner; now he was being dragged into extra trouble.
“Thad, you go handle it. We’re leaving,” Thad Ludwig, the eldest of the Ludwig family, said grimly. He shot Jamison a look and then shepherded his wife and children out of the mayhem.
“Mr. Ludwig! Wait–please!” Adkins called out in panic, humiliated by the family’s departure. But Thad was resolute; he didn’t even look back.
Jamison barely spared them a glance. “Take her to the hospital. There’s nothing I can do.”
“Uncle, at least check on her-”
“Can’t help. Not my field.”
Micah had no choice but to run back to Emma.
Standing off to the side, Ivy watched Emma manipulate her family yet again with such an obvious stunt. She felt nothing but cold contempt.
Her own skin rash still hadn’t healed; the itching was unbearable. She fought the urge to scratch, her small face tight with annoyance.
“Ivy! How could you? Emma just had a miscarriage–her body hasn’t even recovered! How could you do this to her?” Micah shouted, rounding on Ivy after seeing Emma unconscious.
Ivy snorted, unbothered. “Are you all brainless? She’s set me up again and again, even caused my accident. She just admitted it herself–yet somehow you’re still convinced I’m the one targeting her?”
“You scared her! Of course she’d admit anything when you put her through that!” Micah yelled back.
Ivy rolled her eyes–hard. No words. Just utter idiots. Every single one.
By now, the police realized they couldn’t make sense of the situation. Another call came in, and they quietly slipped away.
Ivy couldn’t be bothered to stay a moment longer. “Katrina, let’s go.”
She turned to leave, but Micah chased her down, grabbing her arm. “You’re not going anywhere! Emma’s hurt because of you–you have to take responsibility!”
Ivy eyed his hand on her arm, arching an eyebrow as she gave him a cool, almost amused smile. “You’ve got guts. My skin’s practically falling off, and you still dare to touch me.”
Micah’s eyes darted to her arm–and recoiled in horror. Ivy was wearing short sleeves; her exposed forearms and neck were covered in red, blistered rashes.
Some had burst and scabbed over, the skin around them raw and puckered. It was enough to make anyone’s skin crawl.
“What… what happened to you?” Micah stammered, eyes wide with fear.
“What do you think?” Ivy said blandly. “You all know I’m sick, right? Well, here it is. An outbreak.”
“An outbreak… it’s contagious–oh god, it’s contagious…” Micah panicked, frantically waving the hand that had touched her, spinning around the room in search of the bathroom. “Where’s the bathroom? I need to wash my hands!”
Jamison stood nearby, taking in the scene with a faintly amused glint in his usually cold eyes. For the first time, Mr. Jamison looked at Miss Ivy with a hint of admiration.
Moments later, the wail of an ambulance cut through the chaos.
Micah tried to insist Jamison go to the hospital with them, but Jamison brushed him off.
Not only that, but Mr. Jamison’s sharp tongue was in fine form as he quipped, “Better hurry–wait any longer, and the wound might heal on its own.”
Micah was furious–but Jamison was family, and there was nothing he could do except fume in silence.
Off to the side, Ivy couldn’t help but let out a laugh at Jamison’s comment.
Jamison glanced back at her; Ivy quickly stifled her smile, cleared her throat, and put on an innocent face.
As Rosetta passed by her eldest daughter, her eyes flickered with obvious disgust at Ivy’s ravaged skin. And yet, for some reason, she still paused and asked, “Ivy… when are you coming home?”