Chapter 182
Ivy stared at the message, her heart pounding erratically.
What were the odds?
Moments ago, Jamison had invited her to the art exhibition, and now, Dr. Handsome from the internet was asking her the exact same thing.
Technically, Dr. Handsome had messaged first–she’d just ignored it.
Was this year’s National Art Exhibition really that big of a deal? It seemed like everyone she knew–no matter how unrelated–was bringing it up.
She thought for a moment, then typed back: No need, thanks. I already have a ticket.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Jamison had just ended their call and was about to take a shower. He barely made it a few steps before his laptop chimed. He glanced back, saw the notification, and a small smile tugged at his lips.
So much for “going to bed.” Apparently, Ivy was still online.
He’d assumed she’d written off Dr. Handsome for good.
Jamison clicked on her avatar and read her message, the smile widening.
No wonder she turned me down–she already has a ticket. Looks like someone else beat me to
- it.
Dr. Handsome: You have a ticket too?
Mrs. Smith: Yes, a friend gave it to me.
Dr. Handsome: It’s a private preview. Not many tickets around. Your friend must be well–connected.
Mrs. Smith: Maybe I just got lucky.
Dr. Handsome: So, which day are you going?
Mrs. Smith: Planning to “accidentally” bump into me?
Dr. Handsome: Worth a shot.
Mrs. Smith: Not telling.
Jamison stared at the screen, grinning and shaking his head.
This woman was impossible.
Dr. Handsome: You’re really not going to give me a single chance?
Mrs. Smith: Are you really going to keep pestering me and risk embarrassing yourself?
He couldn’t help but laugh, though there was a trace of exasperation.
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Chapter 182
Mrs. Smith: I’m going to bed now. Goodnight.
As the message popped up, her profile icon dimmed.
So she really was calling it a night.
Jamison scrolled back through their chat, replaying the conversation and wondering what Ivy was thinking.
Had she noticed the coincidence? Two people–one online, one in real life–asking her to the same event. Was she suspicious? Did she have any idea?
He found himself caught between anticipation and dread. Part of him hoped she’d put the pieces together. After hiding behind the screen for so long, it was exhausting–and the longer he kept up the act, the more nerve–wracking it became.
But what if she did find out? What if, in her anger, she cut him out of her life for good? Then he’d have no chance left at all.
He was truly stuck–caught between wanting to reveal the truth and being terrified of the
consequences.
The day of the exhibition arrived.
The Velvet Gallery was packed, the air buzzing with conversation and the scent of expensive perfume. Elegant dresses and tailored suits swept past, as half the city’s elite showed up to see and be seen.
Katrina leaned in, whispering, “I never realized so many people wanted to play at being cultured. I spot at least a few familiar faces from the old days.”
Ivy saw them too–former acquaintances from her days among the socialites.
Three years ago, she would have made her rounds, exchanging pleasantries and soaking in the attention. Now, knowing she was no longer welcome in their circle, she couldn’t be bothered to pretend.
But, of course, trouble had a way of finding her.
Baillie arrived with Lauren, his girlfriend–who he’d only recently coaxed back. They’d barely glanced at a few paintings before Baillie’s gaze landed on a familiar figure across the gallery.
“Ivy…” he murmured, surprised.
Lauren followed his stare, her expression tightening. “Ivy? What’s she doing here? And dressed like that…”
She didn’t finish the sentence, but the jealousy in her eyes said enough.
Ivy, after time away, was transformed–elegant, radiant, a stark contrast to the girl she’d been when she first returned, and even more stunning than before. Her dress, her handbag–every
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detail screamed luxury.
“Baillie, is she some guy’s kept woman now?” Lauren blurted out, shocked.
What other explanation was there? How else could a disgraced heiress–disowned, cut off–afford such effortless luxury?
Baillie glanced at his girlfriend, his expression complicated.
No one in their circle knew about Jamison’s interest in Ivy; the rumors hadn’t spread,
He hesitated, then said nothing.
“Come on,” Baillie said abruptly, taking Lauren’s hand. “Let’s go say hi to Ivy.”
Lauren balked. “Why?”
He dropped his voice. “She’s… got someone backing her now. It’s best not to make enemies. It wouldn’t hurt to smooth things over. And don’t worry–she’s obviously healthy.”
Lauren let him pull her along, still incredulous. “So she really is being kept by someone?”
“Not exactly…” In truth, Baillie had no idea how his sister–banished from the family–managed to live so extravagantly. But knowing Ivy, it wouldn’t be hard for her to get what she wanted from men.
Across the gallery, Ivy and Katrina were following Sawyer, the gallery’s curator, as he explained the story behind a masterwork.
Baillie and Lauren approached just as Katrina spotted them.
“Ivy, look who’s here…” Katrina’s voice was wary as she nudged Ivy’s arm.
Ivy turned, her striking features growing serious.
Great. Here comes another confrontation–just what she needed.
Chapter 183
