“Look, once we’re hitched, I’m gonna need you to come with me to meet my folks, but let’s keep your
financial status under wraps for now, okay?” Ivy said, biting her lip with worry.
She knew her parents, Tessa and Finn, had a nose for money, and if they caught even the slightest
whiff of wealth from her future hubby, they’d be all over it like bees on honey. She didn’t need that kind
of trouble.
The man simply nodded. “Sure thing.”
Ivy couldn’t help but appreciate Balfour’s easygoing nature. Without further ado, she scribbled her
name on the prenup.
Even though it was only a year-long commitment, at least she wouldn’t have to worry about getting
kicked to the curb with nowhere to go.
After watching Ivy sign the contract, Balfour didn’t utter another word. He just stood up, ready to head
upstairs.
“Wait, hold up… What should I be doing now? What’s next?” Ivy asked, rising to her feet in a hurry.
Quinton will fill you in on the details,” Balfour said, and with that, he strode upstairs.
Man of few words, huh?
Ivy pursed her lips and got up, heading out the door where Quinton was waiting with a polite smile.
“Hey, Mr. Howard said I should come see you about what comes next?”
Quinton nodded and handed her a folder from his car. “Mr. Howard asked me to get some newlywed
essentials ready for you. Here’s the list I put together. Anything missing?”
Ivy flipped through the folder. It detailed every possible necessity, right down to tampons. “No, it’s all
there. More than enough.”
“Good to hear,” Quinton said, unsurprised. He was known for his meticulous nature-yesterday’s
oversight being a rare exception. “Ivy, I’ll drive you back to your home so you can pack up your stuff.”
She nodded and got into Quinton’s car, her mind a bit fuzzy as she stared out at the passing scenery.
Suddenly, she spotted yesterday’s bar!
She and Clara had been there last night, where Clara had deliberately gotten her drunk. Maybe the
bar’s security cameras caught something.
“Quinton, could you stop the car for a sec? I wanna check out that bar!”
Quinton wasn’t one to take orders, but as Balfour’s wife-to-be for the next year, Ivy was essentially his
boss.
If her requests were reasonable, he’d oblige.
He pulled into the bar’s parking lot and they stepped inside together.
The bartender hurried over as they entered. “Sorry, we’re just cleaning up. Not open for business yet.”
“I’m not here to drink. I lost something here last night and I’d like to take a look at your security
footage,” Ivy explained.
The bartender hesitated. “Sorry, but we can’t just show our surveillance footage to anyone.”
Ivy had anticipated this resistance and turned to Quinton with pleading eyes.
Catching her look, Quinton knew exactly what to do. “I’m the executive assistant to the President of
Howard Group. If you can’t make the call, get your
boss out here.”
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