On the day of the wedding, Baillie assumed Ivy had only shown up to laugh at his misery, to humiliate him in front of everyone.

It wasn’t until he noticed the company’s stock prices soaring, and someone offloading a massive amount of shares at the peak, that the truth dawned on him.

He’d never imagined that his little sister—still so young—could be so masterful at manipulation, so ruthless in the world of finance.

Ivy gave a cool, mocking smile. “You’re only just figuring it out? With smarts like yours, you really think you can ever take back the company?”

“Ivy, you-” Baillie’s pride couldn’t take it. He raised a trembling finger in her direction, but Jamison, thinking Baillie was about to get violent, moved with startling speed and pulled Ivy protectively behind him.

“Try laying a finger on her, Baillie. I dare you.” Jamison’s warning was sharp as a whip.

Baillie didn’t dare move.

He’d always known he was no match for his own sister—especially now, when she had Jamison in her corner.

But to be so thoroughly outplayed by a woman—his own sister, no less—was a humiliation too bitter to swallow.

Rosetta, watching Jamison’s cold, imposing stance, grew worried for her son. She rushed over, grabbing Baillie’s arm to soothe him.

But when it came to her daughter, her anger only burned hotter.

“Ivy, you put all your cleverness into fighting your own family. Aren’t you afraid of karma? I heard you were pregnant and lost the baby. How can you still be so vicious? Aren’t you afraid you’ll never have children again, that you’ll end up alone? If you can’t give the Ludwig family an heir, do you really think they’ll keep you?”

Rosetta, as only a mother knows how, struck Ivy right where it hurt most.

That child she’d lost—the one she’d had no choice but to let go—was Ivy's deepest regret.

She did her best to block out the memory, but hadn’t expected Rosetta to fling it out into the open, in front of everyone.

A sharp ache squeezed her chest, and for a moment, her expression faltered. Jamison felt it too; his grip on her hand tightened, steadying her. She quickly regained her composure.

“Whether I can have children or not is none of your concern. Maybe try spending your energy sucking up to your daughter-in-law instead—after all, you’re all living off her now.”

Ivy refused to back down, delivering a cutting blow of her own.

“They say mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law are natural enemies, but I guess you two don’t have that problem. Honestly, you could pass as sisters—must get along famously, right?”

A moment ago, Jamison’s face had been thunderous, all dark fury and silent warning.

Now, hearing Ivy wield sarcasm like a blade, he had to fight to keep a straight face.

“You-!” Rosetta’s face turned an ugly shade. She was nearly shaking with rage, pointing at Ivy, her breath coming in short, furious bursts.

The fire department had already left; police were still combing through the scene. It was well past dinnertime, and Ivy still hadn’t eaten.

Ignoring her mother’s meltdown, Ivy turned to Jamison, her voice suddenly gentle. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”

Jamison had already shown his credentials to the police. Even without them present, the investigation wouldn’t be neglected.

“Alright. I’ll take you to get something to eat.”

Hand in hand, they turned to leave. But Ivy glanced back at Baillie. “If you want to buy back my shares, fine. Bring your lawyer to see me tomorrow.”

Baillie’s scowl vanished; he stared at Ivy in surprise.

Afraid he might hesitate, Ivy added coolly, “There are plenty of buyers interested in Windsor Group. If you don’t want it, I’ll just sell to someone else.”

Baillie’s fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened. He bit down on his lip, trembling.

He knew Ivy would wring him dry, but if he wanted control of the company again, he’d have to pay whatever price she set.

Rosetta watched her daughter leave, her heart seething with hatred and resentment. But what hurt her even more was the charred wreckage behind her.

“Whoever did this—may they rot in hell. Burning down my house… I curse them! May lightning strike them dead!”

Rosetta was truly distraught.

They’d only moved out a week ago. Most of their valuables had been left behind, never imagining they’d lose it all in a fire.

Seeing his mother sobbing, Baillie finally snapped out of his daze and tried to comfort her. “Let it go, Mom. It’s just stuff. Whatever you want, I’ll buy it for you again.”

Rosetta turned to look at her son, misery etched into every line of her face. “You’ll buy it for me? With what? Her money? She treats you like a servant—fetching her water, washing her laundry, waiting on her hand and foot. Even if she asked you to scrub her toilet, you’d probably do it! Don’t you feel ashamed?”

Baillie had long since lost his pride, but in front of others, he still tried to save face. He quietly tugged at his mother’s arm. “Stop it, Mom. Let’s just go home.”

Rosetta was inconsolable.

Her home was gone, her company was gone, her adopted daughter gone, and her own daughter as good as lost. Even her only son was now reduced to a rich woman’s lackey—she’d lost him, too.

“It’s a curse… Nothing but a curse… If I’d known that daughter would turn out like this, I’d never have had her…”

Heartbroken, Rosetta let Baillie help her into the car, and they drove away.

Night settled in, bitterly cold. The neighborhood soon fell silent once more.

No one noticed the security guard in a baseball cap, standing motionless behind a hedge, watching all of it unfold with a blank, unreadable stare.