Chapter 611
Ivy stood there, stunned, caught completely off guard.
The last thing she expected was this: just when she’d written off the Windsors for good–when she’d finally given up on any hope of reconciliation–Baillie suddenly had a change of heart.
In an instant, it all made sense. No wonder, that day at the hospital, after picking up Emma, Baillie had dropped her off at the hotel instead of taking her back to the Windsor family home.
She’d heard about it from Boyd and assumed Baillie was simply afraid of her threats–afraid of losing his grip on the Windsor Group.
But now she realized: after hearing what Emma had said that day, Baillie’s conscience must have finally kicked in. He’d simply stopped caring about Emma altogether.
For as long as she could remember, Ivy had been fighting to expose who Emma really was.
Yet, even after Emma’s crimes became public knowledge, the Windsor family had continued to shield her, deepening Ivy’s resentment and disgust toward them.
So now, this apology–so late in coming–shocked her, but didn’t move her in the least.
Her heart had been shattered too many times by those closest to her. An apology, no matter how sincere, could never undo that damage.
She stayed silent for a long while, lost in thought, until Jamison, worried, walked over to check on her. Only then did she snap out of it, turning to Baillie. “I don’t want your epiphany or your apologies,” she said, voice steady. “As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing left between me and the Windsor family. Don’t think a few empty words can erase everything that’s happened.”
Baillie’s discomfort only grew when he saw Jamison approach. He hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I know you won’t forgive us easily. But–for our parents’ sake, if nothing else–could you let them off the hook? The company is their life’s work. If it collapses now, what will they have in their old age…”
Suddenly, Ivy understood–and couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh. “So that’s what your apology is really about?”
“No,” Baillie said quickly. “I mean it–I owe you this apology. Whether or not you choose to forgive us is up to you.”
The truth was, ever since that day outside the hospital, Baillie had been reflecting on everything. He’d wanted to reach out to Ivy and apologize, but the wounds ran deep on both sides. Pride and guilt had kept him from making the first move.
He never expected they’d run into each other on the golf course today. But after some soul-searching, he’d decided to approach his sister.
Of course, part of him hoped that by showing remorse, Ivy might soften, might eventually decide to spare the family.
But he knew Ivy too well–she wasn’t the type to forgive so easily.
So when she rejected his apology, Baillie didn’t lash out or get defensive. Instead, he nodded, accepting her decision.
That surprised Ivy.
And as Jamison reached them, he raised an eyebrow, surprised himself by Baillie’s reaction.
Ivy didn’t respond further. She didn’t even glance in Baillie’s direction. Instead, she turned to Jamison and said, “Let’s go,” before striding off.
Jamison didn’t bother offering Baillie any words of comfort or parting shots. He simply caught up to his wife, took her hand, and gently squeezed it as they walked away together.
On the drive home, Ivy sat in silence, leaning against the window, watching the city lights blur past.
It was just earlier that Jamison had suggested she let go of the Windsor Group, cut her losses, and move on. And now, out of nowhere, Baillie had come to her with an apology.
It changed everything.
All her previous attempts at revenge had only been met with resistance and scorn from the Windsors.
It hadn’t truly hurt them–at most, it provoked their anger.
But only when they finally regretted their actions, when the reality of what they’d done set in, would they feel the pain that could really destroy them.
“I’m not selling the Windsor Group,” Ivy said quietly, just as they were pulling up to their house. “I want them to keep struggling. I want them to suffer a little longer.”
Jamison glanced over, understanding instantly. “Alright,” he said without hesitation. “Whatever you want, I’m with you.”
She turned to look at him. “If I do that, though, I’ll lose money on the shares. And those were all bought with your money.”
Even if she worked for the rest of her life, paying back those millions would be a pipe dream.
Jamison’s lips curled into a small smile. “Have you forgotten how much I’m worth? If a few million is what it takes to make you happy, I can live with that.”
Ivy couldn’t help but smile herself. She turned back to the window, murmuring as if to herself, “I hate them. I hate the Windsor family…”
She’d thought she was over it, that after crushing them she’d finally purged all that anger from her system.
But Baillie’s words today had stirred up the embers, making old wounds ache all over again.
Jamison said nothing. He simply reached over and took her hand, squeezing it gently.
He understood.
After everything she’d been through, all the pain and betrayal, most women in her place would have crumbled long ago.
But Ivy had survived, had rebuilt herself piece by piece, until she could finally stand tall again. Only she knew the depth of that pain.
No one had the right to judge her for how she chose to heal.
And as her husband, all he could do was support her, no questions asked.
When they got home, Ivy said she was tired. She showered and went straight to bed.
Jamison thought about joining her, but his phone buzzed with an incoming call–he suspected something important had come up.
He retreated to the study, closed the door, and answered Boyd’s call.
“Uncle, the auditors have already taken everyone from that company in for questioning. The Carter family caught on fast–it didn’t take them long to figure out you were behind this. They’ve pulled some strings and just reached out to me. The Carters want to meet with you.”