The name âthe Howard Groupâ seemed to act like a magic spell on the waiterâs demeanor. No more than a moment had passed before he ushered the two guests to a plush booth, serving them a complimentary pair of ice waters.
âPlease hang tight,â he said with newfound deference. âIâll fetch the boss straight away.â
The stark shift in the waiterâs attitude was a clear testament to the might of the Howard Groupâs influence in the city.
Ivyâs heart began to race; she had never mixed with such high-rollers before. Now, she was on the brink of being married to one of them for a whole year, and she couldnât fathom what that might entail.
The bar owner arrived posthaste with a practiced smile on his face. âMy apologies for the wait. I hear you had a bit of a mishap with some lost belongings. Looking to check last nightâs surveillance footage, are we? This place is quite the maze, lots of angles to cover. Can you tell me where to start looking?â
Quinton glanced over to Ivy.
Standing, Ivy pointed to the booth nearby. âAround this area, and the corridor leading to your hotel.â
Will do. Give me a moment.â
The bar owner instructed an employee to fetch a laptop and queued up the relevant footage.
Sure enough, the surveillance footage clearly showed yesterdayâs scene with Clara urging Ivy to drink, every gesture and expression painfully evident.
And there, in the corridor footage, was Clara entangled in chatter with Vincent. Initially, Vincent seemed intent on coaxing Clara upstairs, but after a brief exchange, he left with a chuckle and a nod, heading up alone.
Ivy could only surmise that it was then Clara had struck her deal with Vincent, promising to deliver her sister to his bed after the nightâs festivities.
Oh, what a doting sister Clara was!
âBoss, I need a copy of this video. Itâs important.â
With Balfour behind them, the bar owner didnât dare refuse or pry further.
With the footage in hand, Ivy and Quinton proceeded to her family.
Quinton parked in front of the grand estate and turned to Ivy with a respectful air. âIvy, would you like me to accompany you inside?â
He had seen the altercation between Ivy and Clara the previous day and was concerned about her standing with her family. His presence as a Balfourâs assistant might afford her some protection, sparing her from the worst of their treatment.
Ivy found the notion bitterly ironic; needing an outsiderâs support to enter her own home.
âNo need, Iâll manage. Just wait here for me, please.â
Declining Quintonâs offer, Ivy stepped through the threshold alone.
The first to greet her was her mother, Tessa.
Tessaâs face soured at the sight of her daughter. Her hand shot up, landing a sharp slap across Ivyâs face. âHow dare you show your face? Do you any idea how much your father scolded me? Heâs still giving me the cold shoulder because of you!â
Tears sprang to Ivyâs eyes, not from the sting on her cheek, but from the ache in her heart.
After such a long absence, her motherâs first instinct wasnât concern but blame, followed by violence.
have Ivy quickly wiped away the tears and faced Tessa with a defiant glare. Without a word or a plea for understanding, she retreated to her room to pack. âIvy, what are you doing? Are you really moving out to be someoneâs mistress?â Tessa followed, her voice sharp with anger as she watched Ivy gather her things.
Ivy continued in silence, swiftly collecting her belongings.
All her life, sheâd been handed down Claraâs castoffs. There was no reason to take them now.