Chapter 131
Jamison knew exactly what had shocked her, but he still repeated himself, his tone calm and clear: “I said it was my oversight that got you yelled at. I’m sorry.”
“Are you feeling alright? Are you really Jamison?” Ivy stared at him in disbelief. Was he actually apologizing? And in such a gentle, humble tone?
Over in the driver’s seat, Dr. Ludwig, clearly not amused by the sarcasm, snapped, “Ivy, if you don’t want this apology, I can take it back.”
“Sorry, my hearing’s just fine now. I heard every word. Mr. Jamison actually apologizing to someone—now that’s a first.” Ivy shot back, her voice dripping with mockery.
Jamison smirked, one hand deftly steering the wheel. “Your hearing’s better? That’s fast. But just because the pain’s gone doesn’t mean your eardrum’s fully healed. That’ll take about a month. You should still be careful.”
Listening to his careful advice, Ivy frowned even harder. What’s gotten into him today? Did he wake up on the wrong side of the bed? She’d come spoiling for a fight, fully expecting another heated argument. Instead, he apologized, then checked on her—something was off.
“Today, you almost seem human,” she muttered. “And you’re even talking like one.”
Jamison let out a laugh, half annoyed, half amused. “When am I not human?”
“You never are.”
“Then what am I?”
“A peashooter.”
“What?” Jamison had been bracing himself for "monster" or "jerk," but "peashooter"? He was caught off guard.
“You really didn’t have a childhood, did you? A peashooter—mouth all puckered up, firing off shots, ‘pew pew pew’.”
Katrina, who hadn’t left yet, was leaning against the doorway, listening in on her best friend’s playful bickering. She shook with silent laughter.
Just imagine that flawless, handsome face with a cartoonish little mouth.
After hanging up, Jamison arrived at the hospital. Parking the car, he made his way toward his department, pulling out his phone to search for “peashooter.” When the image popped up, he clenched his jaw in silent frustration, then scrolled through his call log and shot Ivy a text.
If I’m a peashooter, then you’re a zombie.
Ivy was having breakfast when his message arrived, and she just found Jamison’s behavior today even more bizarre.
Dr. Ludwig, you should get your head checked once you get to work. Wouldn’t want a brain disease sneaking up on you.
Jamison read her reply, his face turning stony. He shoved his phone deep into his pocket. His colleagues saw him stride in, radiating a chill that made them all hastily grab their patient charts and rush off to the wards.
On Ivy’s end, when no more messages came, she shrugged and went back to her breakfast. Katrina finished eating first. As she cleared the dishes, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen and frowned.
“Your dad?” Ivy guessed instantly.
“Yeah.” Katrina nodded, answering the call. “Hey, Dad…”
Her father’s voice came through loud and hostile: “Where have you been since school let out? Hanging around with that Ivy girl again? She’s got AIDS—she’s practically at death’s door! Are you trying to kill yourself?”
Katrina bristled immediately, turning to leave the room.
Ivy overheard the yelling and called out lightly, “No need to leave on my account. It’s fine.”
Katrina’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She cut her father off, “What do you want?”
“There’s a charity gala tomorrow night. Half the city’s elite will be there. You’re going.”
“I’m not. I hate those things.”
“You’re going, whether you like it or not! Your mom was just in the hospital again, cost me a fortune. You think her ex-husband ever did half as much as me?”
Katrina, voice steady, shot back, “Maybe if you hadn’t taken over Mom’s shares in the company, she’d have an income of her own.”
By then, Ivy had finished eating too. She started clearing the table to give her friend some privacy. She’d barely stepped into the kitchen when Katrina reappeared, the call already over.