Stepping just outside the private room, Balfour flicked his lighter and lit up a cigarette. The hazy smoke
swirled around him, and for a moment, Ivy’s face seemed to appear before his eyes.
Balfour chuckled at himself mockingly. Was he actually starting to see things just because of what
Zephyr had said earlier?
Halfway through his cigarette, he turned around, intending to get some fresh air by the window when
something felt off. He looked back.
This time, without the smoke blurring his vision, he could see clearly. It was indeed Ivy!
The door to the opposite room was ajar. Through the crack, he could see Ivy holding a wine glass,
toasting an older man. They were standing very close to each other, and from Balfour’s angle, their
gestures seemed overly intimate.
Ivy?
Ha! She was just a woman who would do anything for money. He had obviously thought too highly of
her before. Balfour snorted, squinting as he pulled out his phone and dialed Ivy’s number.
When the phone rang, Ivy was in the middle of a toast. Seeing Balfour’s call, she set down her glass
and muttered an excuse before moving aside to answer, “Hello, Mr. Howard.”
“Where are you?”
Ivy glanced at the leering old man beside her, suddenly filled with shame, not wanting Balfour to know
about the messy situation at home.
“I’m… having dinner with a friend. I’ll be home soon.”
“A friend? Really?” Balfour’s voice was tinged with a deep skepticism.
“Yeah, I’ll be a bit late,” Ivy replied softly.
Without another word, Balfour hung up, crushing the cigarette beneath his foot and returning to his
friends inside the VIP booth.
Ivy stood there, puzzled by the timing of Balfour’s call.
But she didn’t have time to think it over. She turned back to face Vincent.
This was one toast she truly didn’t want to make, but Vincent didn’t seem like he would let her leave
easily. She had no choice but to go through with it.
“Vincent, here’s to you,” she said, clinking glasses with him and forcing down another gulp of wine,
fighting back her revulsion.
Her family still hadn’t shown up; it looked like they really weren’t coming.
Vincent watched her finish her drink with particular satisfaction, then reached out to grab her hand. “Ivy,
you’re so beautiful. Have you ever thought about getting into showbiz?”
“What are you doing?” Ivy quickly withdrew her hand and stepped back, visibly uncomfortable.
“Vincent, stop it. I’m just here to apologize on behalf of my sister.”
Vincent had no intention of backing off. “Come on, Ivy, don’t be so uptight! Let me give you a hug. You
look so skinny; you must be light as a feather?”
Ivy began to feel frightened. “Don’t touch me. If you lay a hand on me, I’m calling the cops.”
He wasn’t intimidated by her threat at all. He stood up and started walking towards her step by step.
“Call the cops? But your parents sent you here themselves. If you call the cops, they’ll be the first ones
in trouble.”
“My parents?”
It dawned on Ivy that her suspicions were correct – Finn and Tessa had never planned to come
together with her! This wasn’t about apologizing at all. They were continuing what Clara hadn’t finished
that day.
Her own parents had delivered her into the arms of this predatory old man for the sake of her sister.
Vincent didn’t bother with niceties any longer. He started to get handsy.
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