When they returned to Silverfen, the entire village felt different from the night before. There were still police officers stationed around, keeping watch to prevent another public outburst. Among them were strangers from out of town–families who had traveled from far and wide to search for their missing loved ones.
Some had finally found daughters they’d been separated from for years; they clung to each other, overcome by both joy and sorrow, sobbing uncontrollably. Others, who had made the journey holding on to a sliver of hope, could only watch as others were reunited, the pain of their own disappointment cutting even deeper.
Ivy stepped out of the car, taking in the scene before her, her emotions tangled and impossible to name. Those traffickers deserve a thousand deaths, she thought bitterly. Driven by greed, they’d torn apart countless happy families, leaving behind nothing but heartbreak and tragedy. For those lucky few who managed to find their lost children at all, it was a miracle in the middle of so much misfortune.
But there were so many others–children stolen and never seen again, families left to grieve for a lifetime, some separated forever by death itself. Their sorrow and injustice would haunt them for the rest of their days. As Ivy stood there, her heart aching with grief and anger, she couldn’t help but think of her own story–and the bitter irony of it all.
She overheard the accents of some visitors–one group was clearly from the far north. These parents had crossed endless miles, spent everything they had, all for the chance to see their daughters again. And yet, her own family–wealthy, influential, with every resource at their disposal–had given up on her the moment they learned she was HIV positive and had given birth to an older man’s child.
It hit her with sudden clarity: her parents never truly loved her. They didn’t love Emma or Baillie Windsor, either. To them, children weren’t miracles or ties of blood–they were investments. They raised their daughters to be accomplished and poised for one reason: to increase their value, to secure better marriages, to bring in alliances that would benefit the family.
The moment she’d been kidnapped, her reputation ruined, her “worth” lost–she became nothing more than a useless chess piece, easily discarded. A chill settled over Ivy as she realized, strangely enough, she was almost grateful for what she’d been through. At least she’d seen through their hypocrisy and greed early on.
Otherwise, even if she avoided disappointment and pain now, one day she’d still be shackled to them—used as a pawn for profit, drained for their gain. And because she still cared, she’d never be able to break free completely, forever locked in a cycle of struggle and heartbreak. With a long, slow breath, Ivy felt the resentment she’d carried for so long finally begin to melt away.
Jamison noticed her lost in thought, silent and distant. He could guess what she was thinking–her own pain reflected in the scene before them–and it stung him to see it. He slipped an arm around her shoulders, holding her gently but firmly, and murmured, “Don’t think about it anymore. It’s over now. I’ll always be here to protect you.”
Ivy pulled her gaze away, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m fine. I just… feel like I finally see things clearly.”
Warren, who’d been waiting for them, had dozed off against the car for a couple of hours. He’d been up all night; his eyes were bloodshot as he approached, looking apologetic. “Mr. Ludwig, Miss Windsor, I’m so sorry to trouble you again. Thank you for coming back.”
Ivy quickly composed herself, her expression returning to normal. “Don’t mention it. You’re the one who’s been working so hard.”
He gave a weary smile. “It’s just part of the job–I’m used to it.” Then, glancing at Jamison with concern, he asked, “Mr. Ludwig, how’s your injury? It was our oversight yesterday that got you hurt. I really can’t apologize enough. Our supervisor came down last night and gave us quite the dressing-down. I wanted to visit you after things settled here, to apologize in person.”