After hanging up the phone, Ivy went back to her book.

Meanwhile, Jamison was packing up, ready to leave work. He hadn’t expected to run into Celeste just as he stepped out of his office. Ever since the awkward breakfast that morning, he’d been avoiding her all day, treating her more like a stranger than an old classmate. Now was no different—he didn’t even spare her a glance as he brushed past.

But Celeste couldn’t hold back any longer. She spun around and called out, “Jamison!”

He turned, his expression unreadable. “What is it?”

Celeste hesitated, pressing her lips together, then nodded. “It’s about your wife.”

About Ivy? That caught his attention. “What about her?”

Celeste shifted, standing up straighter with her hands stuffed deep in the pockets of her white coat. She looked torn, but after a brief pause, her voice turned serious. “Jamison, I’ve been hearing some rumors about Ivy lately. People say she’s manipulative. And after that brief conversation I had with her the other night, I got the sense she’s really good at hiding her true self—acting one way in public and another in private. I know you two had a whirlwind marriage, so I just thought you should be careful. Don’t let her looks fool you.”

Jamison had expected something important—some real issue—not petty rumors and baseless slander. “I happen to like that she’s clever, beautiful, and knows how to put on a good show,” he said coolly.

“What?” Celeste was stunned, her eyes wide.

He looked at her, his tone turning colder. “Is there anything else you want to say?”

Celeste’s composure crumbled. “Jamison, I thought you weren’t that shallow. You’re clearly blinded by her looks.”

“Dr. Quinn, I didn’t think you’d be the type to overstep like this. My family business isn’t yours to comment on. Even my parents don’t meddle—so what makes you think you can?”

He’d figured that after his sharp words that morning, Celeste would finally get the hint and let go of her unrealistic hopes. Instead, it seemed he’d only pushed her to lash out at Ivy directly. Clearly, he’d been too easygoing lately—people were starting to forget he wasn’t someone to trifle with.

“Jamison, you-” Celeste’s voice broke. His words had cut deep, and she looked completely shattered.

Just then, a colleague walked by. Not wanting to give anyone a show, Jamison turned away and left, his expression icy. Celeste stood there, her face pale and blotchy, tears threatening to spill.

The colleague approached, concern in their voice. “Dr. Quinn, are you alright?”

“I’m fine…” Celeste mumbled, quickly turning and hurrying off.

The colleague glanced after Jamison’s retreating figure, putting two and two together, and could only shake their head helplessly.

Back home, Jamison found himself alone in the living room, staring at the two cats who watched him silently from the armchair.

Before long, his phone rang. It was Naylor.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Are you off work? Come out for a drink—everyone’s been joking that you’ve vanished from the world since you got married, like your wife’s got you on a tight leash.”

Jamison and Naylor had known each other since they were kids, and shared a lot of mutual friends. Jamison had never been the social type, but if they called him enough times, he’d eventually show up once or twice—sitting quietly in the corner, nursing a drink, sometimes joining them for a game of bridge. But for the past few months, he’d all but disappeared from their social circle.

Still, even when you’re not around, people love to keep your legend alive. Every time the group got together, someone would bring up Jamison’s whirlwind marriage, everyone curious about what kind of spell the city’s former “it girl” had cast to make the famously cold and reserved Mr. Jamison fall so hard.

Naylor rattled on, saying it was someone’s birthday tonight and begging him to make an appearance. Jamison listened, only half-interested. Sitting alone at home wasn’t doing him any good, so he finally agreed and asked for the address.