In their eyes, Emma had her faults, but nothing she’d done deserved death.

It was Ivy who had pushed her to the edge, who had driven her down a path of no return.

The family was chilled by Ivy’s “heartless and ruthless” actions, so much so that they’d abandoned any hope of reconciling with her.

So when Ivy called out of the blue, Baillie was caught off guard, suspicion and coldness mingling in his tone as he answered.

Ivy didn’t seem to care. She spoke as if delivering a simple announcement. “The house is on fire. It’s bad. When you moved out, did you clear out all your things? If not, you might—”

She didn’t even finish before Baillie cut her off, shock in his voice. “What? On fire? Where?”

His instinctive reaction made it clear – he had no idea what was going on.

“The Windsor Mansion is burning. I just found out myself – the police notified me,” Ivy explained.

“How could a house just go up in flames?” Baillie sounded just as baffled.

“I have no idea,” Ivy replied, her voice flat. “I moved out a while ago. It’s your family home now.”

Silence followed, but Ivy could hear Baillie speaking to someone else in the background – probably Rosetta and the others.

A moment later, he was back. “I’m coming over right now!”

After hanging up, Ivy glanced at her husband. “It can’t be the Windsors. They didn’t know anything about this.”

Jamison nodded. “Then we let the police handle it. They’ll get to the bottom of it.” He walked over to speak to the officer in charge.

Firefighters moved in and out of the charred building; after a final sweep, they confirmed no one was inside. The flames were out, and their work was done.

Ivy looked at the blackened remains of the mansion, then stepped forward, wanting to go in and see for herself.

“Ivy.” Jamison hurried after her and caught her arm. “It’s dangerous. Don’t go inside.”

She stopped, her expression complicated.

This had been her home for so many years, the place where nearly all her childhood memories were rooted.

Now, it was nothing but a ruin.

Maybe this was fate’s way of telling her to move on, to stop looking back.

Baillie arrived soon after, Rosetta in tow. As soon as he got out of the car, he stormed straight into the burned-out house, cutting across the yard and heading for the living room.

Seeing the place gutted, furniture toppled and destroyed, his hands clenched into fists, anger radiating off him.

“How did this happen? How could a perfectly good house just go up in flames?” Baillie shouted, demanding answers from thin air.

Ivy walked over, her composure restored, and said with biting sarcasm, “Honestly, I thought maybe you torched the place on purpose after moving out.”

“Are you crazy?” Baillie shot back, glowering at her. “We lived here for decades. Why would we burn it down? Besides, most of our things were still here – now it’s all gone!”

Ivy watched his reaction carefully.

He wasn’t faking it.

He truly had no idea.

Rosetta had followed them inside. Seeing the chaos, the devastation, she trembled, torn between grief and outrage.

“Our home is gone… Just like that, everything’s gone…” she muttered over and over, eyes red with tears. Suddenly, she turned on Ivy, her voice rising in accusation.

“This is all your bad luck! When this house was in our name, it stood for decades and nothing ever happened. The minute you took over, disaster struck! Thank God we moved out, or we’d all be dead! You’re a curse – nothing but bad luck for this family! You won’t be happy until you’ve brought us all down… How could I ever give birth to someone like you?”

Ivy listened, seething and almost laughing at the absurdity.

But before she could retort, a police officer approached, his face grave, “Miss Windsor, this doesn’t look like an accident. We believe the fire was started deliberately.”