“Oh, okay…” Katrina trailed off, but then suddenly blurted, “Does his family even approve of you two getting married? With Micah in the picture, aren’t they going to…?”
Ivy gave a faint, nonchalant smile. “Of course they disapprove. But Jamison doesn’t care, and he told me not to care either.”
Katrina shook her head in disbelief. “Dr. Ludwig really is something else! Ivy, you have to be happy—wildly, unapologetically happy!”
The two of them drove back into the city, grabbed lunch at a bistro, and only headed home afterward.
But as soon as they stepped out of the elevator, Ivy caught sight of a figure waiting in the hallway.
“Miss Windsor, I finally managed to catch you. Apologies for dropping by unannounced.” Carla Ludwig stood poised and impeccably dressed, a limited edition crocodile leather purse dangling from her wrist, exuding an air of affluence and authority.
Ivy’s expression darkened. She hadn’t expected to see Jamison’s sister today. Just days ago, Micah’s mother had called, demanding a meeting, which Ivy had declined. She never thought Carla would show up in person, uninvited.
Clearly, news of Jamison’s wedding plans had stirred up quite a storm in the Ludwig family. And Carla, Ivy knew, wasn’t here just as his sister—she was here as the family’s envoy. Someone like Mrs. Ludwig didn’t bother to show up unless the matter was serious.
“Katrina, why don’t you head in first? I’ll have a word with Mrs. Ludwig,” Ivy said, motioning her friend toward the door.
But Katrina wasn’t having it. She gripped her suitcase and glared protectively at Carla. “I’m staying with you,”
“It’s fine, really.” Ivy gave her a gentle shove, insisting she go inside.
Then Ivy turned, pressed the elevator button, and said coolly, “Mrs. Ludwig, let’s talk somewhere else.”
She had no intention of letting just anyone cross her threshold, least of all Carla.
Carla’s expression was composed, almost frosty, as she followed Ivy into the elevator.
They found a quiet corner in a café downstairs.
“Miss Windsor, these apartments aren’t exactly cheap, are they?” Carla’s tone was pointed. “I heard the penthouse here goes for, what, ten million? Maybe more. Where did you get the money to live in a place like this?” Her implication was obvious: she thought Ivy was spending her brother’s money.
Ivy just smiled. “I have my own ways of making money. I don’t owe you an explanation.”
Carla found her answer unsatisfying, but didn’t dwell on it. Instead, she reached into her purse, pulled out a check, and slid it across the table. “Five million. It’s yours—if you walk away from Jamison.”
Ivy glanced at the zeros, remembering the fifty million Jamison had offered her. She replied matter-of-factly, “But your brother’s offer came with even more zeros, and he wants me to marry him. If you were me, which would you choose?”
“What? So Jamison really did give you money?” Carla snapped, as if she’d finally caught Ivy in the act.
“Jamison always thought you were extraordinary, but it turns out you’re just another gold-digger, aren’t you? Five million isn’t enough for you.” Carla’s words dripped with contempt.
Ivy smiled ruefully and shook her head. “You know, for someone who’s his sister, you really don’t know him at all. Money is the least impressive thing about Jamison.”
She leaned in, her words full of pride for the man she was about to marry. “Your brother isn’t just rich—he’s handsome, tall, sharp as a tack, wildly successful, and—most importantly—he’s got stamina. I’m sure, as a married woman, you know just how important a strong man is in marriage. Honestly, that’s much more appealing than any bank balance.”