"Look, Balfour, don't forget who you're married to. When you're fussing over some other gal, do you ever stop to think how Ivy feels? Don't say I didn't warn you—if Ivy gives up on you for good, you'll be down on your knees begging, and it won't do you a lick of good!"
"Grandma, let's not talk about this over the phone, okay? I've thought about everything you mentioned."
Balfour sounded irked.
If Dean and Alyssa didn't take to Mara staying at the house, well, he could set her up in a different place for the time being.
After all, Mara's family had fallen apart because Victoria had saved him; he couldn't just abandon a wounded soul like her to fend for herself.
"You're too big for your britches now, keeping things from me. Did your granddad and I spoil you for nothing? Fine, just remember this: bring Ivy home tomorrow, and we'll hash this out face to face."
Balfour nodded in agreement. "I'll sort Mara out in the morning, then I'll pick up Ivy and head over."
Even if Balfour didn't believe Ivy was responsible for pushing Mara, there was no way she could wash her hands off the incident.
Looking at Mara's frail figure on the hospital bed, Balfour sighed. Here's to hoping no more trouble comes our way!
...
In the dead of night, Ivy awoke with a start, shaken by a nightmare. Balfour's icy glare struck her again, and in her dream, she came to.
Panting, Ivy sat up, drenched in sweat, her chest heaving. Dream-Balfour's chilling voice echoed, "I always knew you didn't care for Mara, but I never thought you'd be so cruel. I was wrong about you."
Whenever Ivy tried to defend herself, her mouth would seal shut, and she'd watch helplessly as Balfour repeated the accusation over and over, yet she was powerless.
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