Ivy was yanked back and forth by the collar, but her response was eerily calm. "Look at yourself. You're acting like a madwoman. Where's the poise of the former Dunhill heiress? No matter how much you push us, he will only ever love me, and I bet that reality is driving you insane."
Ivy had hit the nail on the head, pinpointing the very thing that mattered most to Clara.
Clara couldn't fathom it—why on earth would Balfour fall for penniless Ivy? What did he see in her?
She thought that once Ivy was cast out of the Dunhill family, her life would spiral downwards, and Clara would finally breathe easy after years of pent-up frustration.
But she never anticipated that Ivy would turn to Balfour and, worse, that he would genuinely fall for her!
"You're not suggesting I'm jealous of you, are you? What would I be jealous of? That even your own mother doesn't love you?
With no father's affection and no mother's care, you're no better off than an orphan. Do you actually believe Balfour loves you? He's just infatuated with your looks for now. Once your beauty fades, he'll be gone without a backward glance.
You think you're something special to him? The entertainment industry is teeming with gorgeous actresses. Don't flatter yourself!"
Clara burst into laughter. "You poor soul, begging for love, and in the end, you'll never receive it. I'll send Balfour a picture of you right now. I want to see if he's going to react the way I say he will or if he truly loves you as you believe."
Ivy swallowed hard, her throat tight.
Once Balfour received this message, he would surely know where she was.
At Balfour's end, the atmosphere was icy.
Had he known Clara hadn't let go of her vengeful spirit against Ivy, he would never have left her alone in the hospital. Damn it.
Why is it always after disaster strikes that one regrets?
"Can we track where they've gone?" Balfour asked, staring at the vehicle license plate on the screen.
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