Ivy pulled out a chair and sat down. “Mr. Windsor,” she said, her voice polite but firm, “if you would please sign this loan agreement first, we can proceed with repaying your debts.”

She had come prepared. As she spoke, one of the lawyers produced two copies of the agreement and handed them to Baillie.

A hush fell over the room, broken only by the whispers of the creditors.

“So he’s borrowing from his own sister to pay us back. I thought Ivy was just being generous.”

“Can you blame her? The way the Windsors treated her, kicking her out like that.”

“Yeah, she’s doing them a huge favor just by lending them the money.”

The lawyer held out the agreement. When Baillie didn’t move, he prompted him with a professional smile. “Mr. Windsor, we need your signature before we can proceed.”

Baillie looked at Ivy, a bitter smile twisting his lips. He knew she didn’t trust him, and the thought stung. But, as the men around him had said, he should be grateful. After a moment’s hesitation, he took the agreement and signed his name without even reading it.

The lawyer took the document and brought it to Ivy. She glanced at it but didn’t sign. “Let’s begin,” she said, nodding to Boyd. “Everyone has been waiting long enough.”

“Alright,” Boyd said, turning to the creditors. “Form five lines, one for each station.”

Eager to get their money and get on with their holiday, the creditors lined up like schoolchildren. The duffel bags were opened, revealing stacks of crisp, new bills. The lawyers reviewed the loan documents, discarding any that were invalid and paying only what was legally owed. The bank staff counted the cash, bundled it, and handed it over. Once the debt was settled, both parties signed a release.

A few of the creditors had issues with the amounts, but one look at the intimidating setup–and at Jamison, who sat silently observing the proceedings–was enough to make them hold their tongues. They knew they were lucky to be getting anything at all. They clutched their money and scurried out, afraid Ivy might change her mind.

Baillie was a signing machine, processing one debt after another. With each signature, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders, but a piece of his pride crumbled away.

“Well, Mr. Windsor, it looks like your sister is the one saving the family’s honor in the end. Without her, you’d probably be spending the next few years in jail.”

“You should treat your sister better from now on, Mr. Windsor. After everything you did to her, she’s still taking care of you.”

“I heard she’s the one who paid the medical bills for all the innocent people who got poisoned at the funeral, too.”

“Your sister is a saint!”

Baillie kept his head down, the words like salt in his wounds. His hand trembled as he signed his name over and over, but he didn’t say a word.

After half an hour, Ivy started to get tired. Jamison noticed her drowsiness and leaned in. “Getting sleepy?”

“Yes. I’m just going to rest my head in your lap for a bit,” she murmured, her eyes half-closed. She turned her chair and leaned against him.

Jamison immediately uncrossed his legs and folded his overcoat on his lap to make a more comfortable pillow for her. He gently draped the coat over her, shielding her from the harsh overhead lights.

Boyd was used to their public displays of affection and paid them no mind. But everyone else in the room stared, their jaws agape. The great Jamison Ludwig, a man of immense wealth and prestige, who had turned down countless debutantes, was utterly devoted to a woman who had been a social outcast for three years. He was even acting as a human pillow for her in a room full of strangers. The contrast between their tender moment and Baillie’s lonely, humiliating ordeal was stark and brutal.

It took over four hours to count and distribute the forty-five million dollars in cash. They had started at three-thirty in the afternoon and didn’t finish until seven-thirty that evening.

When the last creditor had left, a collective sigh of relief went through the room.

Ivy had woken up after an hour. The long wait had made her restless, and she stood by the window, gazing out at the city lights and thinking about where to go for dinner.

Now that everything was settled, she returned to the table. Baillie was starving. Rosetta had called him several times, but after the first two, he had started ignoring her calls. Now that it was all over, his phone rang again, and he answered.

The lawyer approached Ivy with a ledger. “Miss Windsor, there were some discrepancies in the accounts. After adjustments, the total debt is 1.52 million less than the original estimate. Should we draw up a new agreement for you and Mr. Windsor?”

“Yes, please prepare a new one for Mr. Windsor to sign,” Ivy instructed.