Ivy recognized the woman instantly—the same one Baillie had been “entertaining” earlier. Honestly, the woman had aged well. Her figure was impressive, and not a wrinkle marred her face, but the subtle loss of youthfulness in her features betrayed her age all the same. Everything about her screamed wealth—from her designer dress to the massive diamond on her finger that flashed with every movement. There was no doubt: she was loaded.

So Baillie had already started cozying up to rich women?

“Lee, do you see someone you know?” the woman asked as she glided up to Baillie’s side, her tone sugary sweet. Hearing her call him “Lee” sent a wave of goosebumps down Ivy’s arms. Lee?! Not even Adkins or Rosetta had ever called their son by such a cutesy nickname, not even when he was a child. Yet here was this glamorous woman, purring it out as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Maybe Ivy’s reaction bruised Baillie’s ego, because he glanced away, clearly uncomfortable. “Yeah, just ran into an old acquaintance. We were just chatting.” Clearly not eager to dig into his own messy affairs, he steered the woman away, intent on making a quick exit.

But just then, Naylor happened by, spotting the socialite and greeting her with practiced politeness: “Well, what a surprise, Mrs. Cooper. Out for a game too?”

Mrs. Cooper?

Ivy’s ears pricked up. Married? Did Baillie really not care anymore and resorted to being the “other man“?

“Naylor! It’s been ages!” Mrs. Cooper beamed, striding over to shake his hand. After a few pleasantries, her gaze drifted and landed on Jamison. Her eyes lit up as she looked him over, head to toe, lingering with a boldness that was impossible to miss. “And who might this be…?” she asked, unable to hide her intrigue. In the past couple of years, she’d seen her fair share of men, but never anyone quite like Jamison—the looks, the presence. He was nothing short of mesmerizing.

Chapter 608

Jamison, for his part, had no idea who this woman was and couldn’t care less. The moment he noticed her appraising stare, his expression turned icy, radiating a cold intensity that made the air prickle.

Naylor, catching the awkwardness, quickly stepped between them. “Uh–Mrs. Cooper, this is Mr. Jamison. He’s here with his wife for the game.” He made sure to stress Jamison’s marital status, just in case Mrs. Cooper got any ideas.

If anything, her eyes sparkled even more. “Oh, I’ve heard about you, Mr. Jamison. Striking out on your own to practice medicine, right? This is the first time I’ve seen you in person–impressive.”

Ivy, standing off to the side, instantly picked up on the socialite’s intentions. She pressed her lips together, struggling not to burst out laughing. Jamison realized he was being sized up like some kind of male model, and his scowl deepened. When he saw Ivy silently giggling at his expense, he grew even more annoyed, grabbing her hand and steering her away on the spot.

Naylor could barely keep a straight face as he bid Mrs. Cooper goodbye and hurried after his friends. Back at the lunch pavilion, Ivy couldn’t hold it in anymore. Her laughter bubbled out, bright and silvery, drifting far on the afternoon breeze.

“What’s so funny?” Jamison grumbled, his face still thunderous.

Ivy’s eyes sparkled as she looked at her husband. “The way that woman was staring at you, I thought she was about to pounce.”

He said nothing.

“Who would’ve thought–the great Mr. Jamison, mistaken for a male model! Oh, my god…”

Naylor joined them, thumping Jamison on the back. “Mrs. Cooper really had her eye on you. Good thing you’re married–otherwise, she’d probably be chasing you around the court.”

“Get lost,” Jamison snapped, dark clouds gathering on his face. So much for a relaxing afternoon. Instead, he’d found himself in the middle of this circus—his dignity in shambles.

Curious, Ivy turned to Naylor, who was sitting a seat away. “So, what’s the deal with Mrs. Cooper? She’s married and still prowling around like that? And her thing with Baillie–definitely not innocent.”

Naylor took a sip of water, straightened up, and explained, “Well, Mrs. Cooper’s story would make anyone envious. Her husband was a self-made man—made a fortune in renewable energy, took his company public, and was worth hundreds of millions. But a car crash two years ago left her a widow. After all the inheritance was settled, she still had tens of millions to her name. She’s just in her early forties, and let’s face it, she’s not the type to sit around grieving. I’ve heard she’s a VIP at Elysium Towers—you know, that place with the city’s most sought-after male escorts. She’s been through half their roster. No idea how Baillie got involved, but judging by today, they’re definitely in the honeymoon phase.”

Jamison, who never cared much for gossip, found the whole story tedious, especially since he’d been dragged into it. “Pretty heartless, if you ask me. Her husband’s been gone less than three years, and she’s already parading around with boy toys half her age.”

Ivy shot him a look. “Oh, please. Men are just as bad—aren’t there stories everywhere about middle-aged guys counting down to three things: a promotion, a bonus, and their wives‘ funerals? The moment their wives pass, they can’t wait to bring a new woman home and show her off. Forget three years of mourning—most can’t even wait three days.” She wasn’t exaggerating. There were endless stories online—men who, before their wives were even cold in the grave, had already started splurging on new girlfriends.

“I actually think Mrs. Cooper’s got it figured out,” Ivy added, her tone genuine. “She’s living her life and owning it. Honestly? Good for her.”