In that moment, Celeste was overwhelmed by a surge of resentment. She blurted out, unable to accept defeat, “Why? What is it about me that doesn’t measure up?”
Jamison replied coolly, “Everyone has their own standards when it comes to choosing a partner. Do I really need to justify turning someone down?”
Without waiting for her response, he turned and walked away, leaving Celeste glaring after his retreating figure, her pride wounded and tears threatening to spill as she fought to keep her composure.
Ivy spent two days at home recovering, and by then her headaches and dizziness had mostly faded. On Friday, she had an important seminar and had no choice but to return to campus. After class, she made her way to the library, opened her laptop, and was about to check the day’s stock market trends when her phone buzzed. Another unfamiliar number.
Lately, she’d developed an instinctive aversion to unknown callers—she could tell without picking up that it wouldn’t be good news. So she declined the call. Moments later, a text message appeared. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Jamison. This is Lanny from the estate. Madam Ludwig would like to invite you to lunch. I’ll be by the university to pick you up.”
Ivy frowned at the message. What was this about? Lunch with her mother-in-law? Somehow, it felt less like a friendly invitation and more like a summons to the den. A thought occurred to her, and she immediately called Jamison. Thankfully, he wasn’t busy and answered right away.
“Ivy, what’s going on?” Jamison knew his wife would never call him during work unless it was important, so he got straight to the point.
Ivy stepped out of the reading room and lowered her voice. “Lanny from the estate just got in touch. Your mother wants to have lunch with me. Do you know what this is about?”
Jamison sounded puzzled. “She’s coming all the way to campus to see you?”
“Yeah, Lanny said they’re already on the way.”
He hesitated, then guessed, “She probably wants to talk about my health. After the last hospital scare, she’s probably feeling the pressure and wants us to hurry up and give her a grandchild.”
Ivy thought that was likely, too, but she felt uneasy. “How am I supposed to handle this? I already lied to her last time—I feel terrible about it.”
Jamison considered for a moment. “If you’d rather not go, I can call and explain things to her.” He hated to see his wife put in a difficult position.
“No, absolutely not,” Ivy said firmly. “If you call, she’ll know I went running to you, and that’ll only make things worse. She’s not in the best health—let’s not upset her. I’ll just play it by ear.” She wasn’t about to make things harder for Jamison or disrespect his mother, no matter how awkward the situation.
“Alright. If she gives you a hard time, just ignore it—or call me, and I’ll handle the rest.” Jamison still thought this was just another routine lunch, nothing to worry about.
After hanging up, Ivy messaged Lanny back to ask for the lunch location, offering to meet them herself to save the trouble. But Lanny replied that the car was already outside. With no other choice, Ivy packed up her things and headed for the university gate. A sleek black stretch Lincoln was parked out front, drawing a crowd of curious students. Lanny was already waiting, standing by the open door, his white-gloved hand held out in a formal gesture. “Mrs. Jamison, your car is ready.”
“Thank you.” Ivy managed a calm nod, though her nerves were anything but settled. The whole setup—chauffeured limousine and all—only made her more certain this was no ordinary lunch. Jamison was probably too optimistic about how simple this would be. She had a sneaking suspicion that her mother-in-law might already know the truth. As the door closed and muted the noise outside, Ivy took a deep, steadying breath, telling herself she’d just have to roll with whatever came. If it all went south, she’d own up to her mistakes. For Jamison’s sake, she was willing to endure whatever lectures or reproaches came her way.
The ride lasted about half an hour before the limousine finally pulled up in front of a grand, manor-style restaurant. Lanny opened the door for her and led her through elegant halls adorned with intricate moldings, finally ushering her into a private dining room that was both tasteful and serene. Adela Ludwig was waiting inside. She wore understated clothes, but the emerald necklace around her neck was clearly priceless.
The table was already set for lunch: four dishes and a bowl of steaming soup, with a porcelain teapot gently bubbling over a small flame. Everything looked refined and peaceful—except for the charged atmosphere.
Lanny gestured for Ivy to enter, then bowed respectfully. “Madam, Mrs. Jamison has arrived.”
Adela set down her teacup, her gaze sweeping over Ivy. She nodded slightly. “Have a seat.” After Lanny left and closed the door, Ivy smiled politely. “Thank you, Mother.” She took her seat at the table.
Adela didn’t respond, but her eyes lingered on Ivy, studying her more closely this time. Ivy’s outfit was simple—a pale chiffon blouse, a knee-length A-line skirt, white flats—nothing remarkable, chosen for a day of classes. Yet her features were so striking that nothing could disguise her beauty; even without a hint of makeup, she outshone most women at their best. Her skin was luminous, her features elegant and expressive, delicate yet vivid, like an artist’s finest work. Adela couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. After all these years, her third son had stubbornly held out for the perfect woman, only to be won over by a pretty face and rush into a whirlwind marriage.