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, Ivyâs 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 Balfourâs 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 Ivyâs number.
When the phone rang, Ivy was in the middle of a toast. Seeing Balfourâs call, she set down her glass and muttered an excuse before moving aside to answer, âHello, Mr. Howard.â
âWhere are you?â
Ivy glanced at the leering old man beside her, suddenly filled with shame, not wanting Balfour to know about the messy situation at home.
âIâm⦠having dinner with a friend. Iâll be home soon.â
âA friend? Really?â Balfourâs voice was tinged with a deep skepticism.
âYeah, Iâll be a bit late,â 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 Balfourâs call.
But she didnât have time to think it over. She turned back to face Vincent.
This was one toast she truly didnât want to make, but Vincent didnât seem like he would let her leave easily. She had no choice but to go through with it.
âVincent, hereâs to you,â she said, clinking glasses with him and forcing down another gulp of wine, fighting back her revulsion.
Her family still hadnât shown up; it looked like they really werenât coming.
Vincent watched her finish her drink with particular satisfaction, then reached out to grab her hand. âIvy, youâre so beautiful. Have you ever thought about getting into showbiz?â
âWhat are you doing?â Ivy quickly withdrew her hand and stepped back, visibly uncomfortable.
âVincent, stop it. Iâm just here to apologize on behalf of my sister.â
Vincent had no intention of backing off. âCome on, Ivy, donât be so uptight! Let me give you a hug. You look so skinny; you must be light as a feather?â
Ivy began to feel frightened. âDonât touch me. If you lay a hand on me, Iâm calling the cops.â
He wasnât intimidated by her threat at all. He stood up and started walking towards her step by step.
âCall the cops? But your parents sent you here themselves. If you call the cops, theyâll be the first ones in trouble.â
âMy parents?â
It dawned on Ivy that her suspicions were correct â Finn and Tessa had never planned to come together with her! This wasnât about apologizing at all. They were continuing what Clara hadnât finished that day.
Her own parents had delivered her into the arms of this predatory old man for the sake of her sister.
Vincent didnât bother with niceties any longer. He started to get handsy.