Ivy couldn’t remember the last time she’d truly felt a pang of sympathy for someone. But right now, seeing the man who was always so aloof and commanding—sometimes even insufferably so—lying there looking so pale and worn out, she felt a deep ache inside. In that moment, she finally understood what it meant to care for someone so much it hurt.

Her feelings for Jamison, which had been growing steadily, suddenly surged into something far more intense.

Love was guilt.

Love was worry.

Love was that desperate urge to take his pain as her own.

Love was knowing she shouldn’t fall for this man, and yet being utterly powerless to stop herself.

If Jamison hadn’t been so badly hurt, Ivy thought she might have lost control and just wrapped her arms around him.

On the hospital bed, Jamison knew the stitching was over, but his body was slow to react to the anesthesia; the pain was still sharp and left his mind drifting. He kept his eyes closed, trying to let his nerves settle and give his body a moment’s respite.

A gentle, raspy call reached his ear. For a split second, he thought he was imagining things. Once his head cleared, he opened his eyes and saw Ivy crouched by the bed, her face close to his. She was real.

“I thought I told them not to let you in. How did you get through?” His tone was mild, his face unreadable.

Ivy didn’t seem to mind. Quietly, she explained, “They let me in after you finished with the stitches.” She hesitated, then added, “The county officials have arrived. They brought medical staff to help everyone. How are you feeling? Do you want to go out and see them?”

Jamison realized his brother had probably called in favors through his father-in-law, getting a whole team of officials out here in the middle of the night. Given the circumstances, he knew he should at least show his face and say a few words. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, his gaze sharper now.

“Just give me a minute. Help me up.”

“Of course.”

Ivy stood and carefully supported his uninjured right shoulder, her touch gentle and cautious. His shirt was ruined, stained with blood and impossible to salvage. A bodyguard came in carrying a shopping bag. “Mr. Ludwig, there was only one clothing store open in town. I hope this will do for now.”

Ivy took the bag and found a crisp white dress shirt inside. With the tenderness of a mother tending a child, she helped Jamison slip into the fresh shirt, every movement soft and precise.

Together, they stepped out. The county officials were just finishing their visits with the wounded officers and townsfolk. The mayor quickly introduced Jamison to the county officials. Pleasantries were exchanged. The county officials, recognizing Jamison’s status, treated him with particular respect.

It had been an exhausting day—endless chaos, relentless stress. Jamison had lost a lot of blood, and now, as midnight stretched on, he was visibly running on empty.

Sensing this, the county leader immediately offered up his own car. “Mr. Ludwig, the accommodations here are quite basic. Why don’t you and your wife return to the county? Take my car—my driver will see you both safely back to your hotel.”

The villagers lingering nearby, along with Gregory—the quack doctor who’d been hanging around outside—began to look more and more ashen. For so long they’d swaggered around, never imagining they’d finally run into someone with real power. And none of them had guessed that “Daisy” had such an impressive background, enough to bring so many officials running.

“It’s late, Mr. Ludwig—let’s do it this way. I’ll come by the hotel in the morning to check on you both,” the county official said.

The county and town leaders still needed to head to Silverfen to calm the townspeople and deal with the night’s chaos. They were in a rush.

Jamison didn’t stand on ceremony. With Ivy and his men, he climbed into the county leader’s car. After saying their farewells to the officials, the car pulled away from the hospital.

Ivy finally let out a quiet sigh of relief. But when she looked over to see Jamison leaning wearily against the seat, her heart filled with worry all over again.