Chapter 790
“Business?” Ivy asked.
Baillie didn’t answer directly. Instead, he said, “It won’t take much of your time, and I promise I won’t put you on the spot.”
Considering he was technically her client now, Ivy decided to show him some courtesy. She stood up and led him to the rooftop café above the office building.
Once they were seated, Baillie got straight to the point. “Did you have someone look into Hawley?”
“So, what–he’s after you again?” Ivy arched an eyebrow.
“Yesterday, a package showed up at my place. It was full of disgusting things.” Baillie’s face twisted at the memory, the color draining from his cheeks.
“Did you call the police?”
“I did, but since there was no real harm done, and the package only had the delivery address–no sender info–there just isn’t enough evidence. The police aren’t opening a case.”
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have come to Ivy today, hoping she might have some useful info.
The thought that someone was lurking in the shadows–not just setting their house on fire or causing car accidents, but knowing exactly where they lived–had the whole Windsor family on edge, unable to eat or sleep.
Worse still, his wife was starting to notice something was off. If she ever found out they had such a dangerous enemy, she’d probably distance herself from them immediately.
He needed to put an end to this as soon as possible. But he didn’t have the skills to investigate, and the police weren’t making any progress–so in the end, he had no choice but to come to Ivy and cling to whatever hope she might offer.
Ivy nodded, showing she understood, and replied calmly, “I did have someone look into it. But as you said, the other party knows how to cover their tracks. It’s not something we’ll solve overnight.”
“So, is it that you can’t find anything, or that you don’t want to? Are you secretly hoping that person takes revenge on us, just to get even?”
Ivy couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh at how quickly his attitude flipped. “Mr. Windsor, you’re the one asking for help here, is that really your best approach?”
Baillie didn’t answer, but his chest heaved with anger.
Seeing he’d gone silent, Ivy didn’t bother wasting more words. She stood up. “I have work to do. Excuse me.”
“Ivy.” Baillie called after her.
She stopped but didn’t turn around.
Baillie stood as well, looking at her desperately. “What will it take for you to help us? We really wronged you in the past, but isn’t this enough punishment? Emma’s dead. The Windsor family is in ruins because of you. Dad’s health is gone. I can’t marry the girl I loved. I finally found someone who would accept me, and now even our child is gone… While you–you lost three years, but now you have the kind of wealth and status most people can only dream of. All I’m asking is a small favor…”
Halfway through, Ivy turned to face him, a cold, mocking smile on her lips.
“You’re right, you all have it pretty rough. But guilt–tripping won’t work on me–I lost my morals a long time ago.” She said it on purpose, just to rile him up.
The truth was, she’d asked Boyd to start investigating as soon as she heard. It had barely been a day, and Baillie was already here, accusing her of dragging her feet, acting like she was just going to sit back and watch them suffer.
“You-”
Ivy stared him down, her voice sharp. “If you all think I’m so malicious, so ruthless, then why keep coming to me for help? Why humiliate yourselves?”
When she’d first returned after being abducted, she had gone after the Windsor family–and Emma in particular.
But that ended the moment Emma died.
Her grudge against her birth family ended when she let go of the Windsor Group.
After that, it was always them who kept coming to her. To put it bluntly, they were practically throwing themselves at her feet, just to be humiliated again and again.
And now, they wanted to call her heartless for not saving them.
Ivy couldn’t understand how her own flesh and blood had ended up like this.
Baillie’s face was pale with rage, but he was speechless.
Ivy shot him a frosty glance, then, just before leaving, tossed over her shoulder, “Investigations take time. Even if I wasn’t doing this for you, I’d do it for myself. Take it or leave it.”
He watched her walk away, still fuming, but when he thought it over, he realized maybe he had been too impatient–maybe, just maybe, he’d misjudged her.
That evening, Jamison was right on time to pick Ivy up from work.
He’d missed his wife so much that Dr. Ludwig didn’t care about appearances at all. The moment Ivy climbed into the car, he pulled her into a close embrace, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
Noticing the two bodyguards in the front seat, Ivy blushed and gently pushed him away, whispering, “Behave yourself.”
Jamison just smiled, warm and tender, and pinched her cheek.
“How did your surgery go today?” Ivy asked, genuinely interested in his work.
“Perfectly,” Dr. Ludwig replied, calm but proud. “But a successful surgery is just the first step. The patient’s still in the ICU–he’s not out of the woods yet.”
Thinking of the online buzz these past few days, with all her husband’s achievements being dug up and discussed, Ivy grew curious. “Have you ever kept track of how many lives you’ve saved?”
“No… I haven’t counted,” Jamison shook his head seriously. Then, looking at her with pride, he added, “But ever since I started in the OR, I haven’t lost a single patient. Zero mistakes, zero deaths. I think I’ve earned my wings as a doctor.”