Jamison let out a heavy sigh, pushing aside his tangled thoughts for the moment. He stood up and went to finish the rest of his work.

The next morning, over breakfast, Ivy brought up the idea of inviting Jamison out for a meal.

Katrina looked startled. “Me? Why do I have to go? He did you a favor, not me.”

“Just come with me, please. Otherwise, it’ll just be him and me—awkward, right? Imagine if someone we know sees us; they’ll get the wrong idea,” Ivy explained.

“So what if they do? You’re both single adults. Having dinner together isn’t a crime.”

But Katrina clearly didn’t want to go.

Ivy, though, was insistent.

The two hadn’t finished arguing about it when Ivy’s phone rang.

She glanced at the caller ID, surprised.

Baillie.

She didn’t want to answer. She muted the phone and set it aside.

Moments later, it rang again.

“Just pick up,” Katrina urged. “Maybe they finally came to their senses and want you back.”

Ivy had finished her breakfast. She set down her spoon and picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Ivy, how many times do I have to call before you answer?” Baillie’s tone was sharp, tinged with annoyance.

Ivy didn’t bother responding. “What do you want?”

“What, can’t I call you unless I have a reason? I’m your brother—your real brother!” Baillie put on his usual act.

Ivy gave a cold little laugh. “Mr. Windsor, have you forgotten we already cut ties?”

“Ivy, family ties don’t just disappear. Go ahead and ask any court in the country,” Baillie shot back.

Ivy pressed her lips together, anger rising inside her.

True, you can’t legally erase blood relations. But if she were utterly useless to them, the Windsor family would have dropped her in a heartbeat.

If Baillie was reaching out now, it had to mean they needed something from her.

“So you called just to give me this little speech?” Ivy cut to the chase.

Baillie hesitated, then finally got to the point. “Mom’s sick. She wants to see you.”

“She wants to see me?” Ivy almost laughed. “And what would she want with me now?”

No one had wanted to see her when she actually lived under their roof.

“She’s your mother, you know. Isn’t it only natural she’d want to see her own daughter? And stop lying to us, we know you don’t have AIDS. Mom says—since it was all a misunderstanding, we should clear the air. You can move back home.”

He said it so righteously, as if Ivy were just a doll to be picked up or tossed aside at their whim.

Ivy gave a cold little laugh. “Lying to you? When did I ever lie to you?”

They were the ones who never believed her.

“You had a rash and told us it was AIDS—if that’s not lying, what is?”

“I told you the very first day I came home that I wasn’t sick. Did you believe me?”

“You… you didn’t show us any proof!”

“I said the police could vouch for me, but you didn’t listen then, either.”

“That—well, that day was Emma and Micah’s engagement party. We were all busy, so much going on—who had time for all that?” Baillie was clearly on the defensive now, his words stumbling.

Ivy noticed he still couldn’t even offer an apology. She gave a cold snort. “The Windsor family’s affairs have nothing to do with me. Don’t bother me again.”

She was about to hang up when Baillie suddenly lost his temper.

“Ivy, this is too much! Do you know why Mom’s sick? Because of you! She’s been wracked with guilt ever since she realized she misunderstood you—crying herself to sleep every night, wanting to call you but too ashamed. She even tore into Emma, nearly kicked her out of the house—that’s got to count for something, right? What more do you want from us?”