The Villainess Needs a Hug (Ivy Windsor) novel Chapter 166

After answering the call, Ivy fell into a long, uneasy silence.

Katrína, sensing her worry, tried to reassure her. “Just ignore them. They don’t even know where you are.*

Ivy shook her head, her voice tinged with anxiety. “Micah knows. And if he does, it won’t be long before the rest of the Windsor family finds out.”

“Oh, right… I almost forgot about that jerk.” Katrina frowned, then suggested, “Why not mention it to Dr. Ludwig? Ask him to remind Micah not to give your address to anyone from the Windsor family.”

“Yeah, I’ll bring it up at lunch tomorrow.”

Ivy had no intention of calling Micah herself. He was like a stubborn stain–once he stuck around, he was impossible to get rid of. The last thing she wanted was to reach out to him first.

As for Jamison… it didn’t seem right to call him just for something so trivial.

If she contacted him too often, she’d look desperate–chasing after him. She didn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea.

Little did she know, some people were even faster than her.

The next day, Ivy prepared for the lunch meeting.

She caught herself, almost instinctively, wanting to dress up. But as she opened her wardrobe and started picking through clothes, a sudden flash of clarity struck–better keep it simple. She grabbed a skirt suit at random.

When she came downstairs, Katrina’s eyes lit up at the sight.

“What? Is it that ugly?” Ivy glanced at her friend, curious.

Honestly, if it was hideous, that would be perfect.

“Ugly? Are you kidding?” Katrina looked her up and down in awe. “I just haven’t seen you in a skirt in ages. You look gorgeous–like the Neo Haven socialite you used to be. The real Ivy is back.”

Ivy rolled her eyes, lips pressed together. “Maybe I should go change. Put on some pants.”

“Are you crazy? It’s over 95 degrees out there! If anything, you should be wearing less.”

Katrina hurried over and tugged her toward the door. “Let’s go, or we’ll get stuck in traffic. You’re the host–you can’t make your guest wait.”

Ivy had to agree, so she followed Katrina out.

A white Maserati pulled out from the gated community. Ivy was focused on driving and didn’t

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Chapter 166

notice the black Bentley parked discreetly by the curb.

Inside the Bentley, a young couple was bickering. Suddenly, the woman in the passenger seat smacked the man’s arm. “Look! Isn’t that Ivy’s car? She’s leaving–let’s follow her!”

Micah squinted–sure enough, it was Ivy’s car. He started the engine, pulling out to tail her.

Ivy followed the GPS to a restaurant near the riverfront. As soon as she parked, her phone buzzed.

It was Jamison.

“Hey,” she answered.

“You’re here?” His deep voice came through the line.

“I just got here. Parked my car. Is something up?”

“I had to swing by the hospital this morning. Just finished up–I’ll be a little late.”

“No worries. Take your time.”

“Alright.”

After they hung up, Ivy and Katrina headed into the restaurant.

It was an upscale bistro perched along the prime stretch of the river, the kind of place where the city’s movers and shakers Junched over panoramic views.

The two women scrolled through their phones, enjoying the scenery. Ivy was chatting with Dale and the others on their WhatsApp group.

It was Friday–the last trading day of the week. The market had been a rollercoaster all morning, and anxiety was running high. Everyone in the group was on edge, tossing around opinions, several tagging “Mrs. Smith” to ask whether they should cut their losses or buy the dip that

afternoon.

Ivy had taken a hit too, but her losses were manageable. She typed out her thoughts, but before she could finish, Katrina tapped her arm. “Dr. Ludwig’s here!”

Ivy looked up, catching sight of Jamison striding toward them. For reasons she couldn’t name, her heart gave a faint, nervous flutter; she sat up a little straighter.

Katrina leaned closer, whispering, “Dr. Ludwig is honestly the most handsome, elegant guy I’ve ever met from a wealthy family.”

Ivy tried to hide a smile, feigning indifference. But deep down, she couldn’t help but agree.

Jamison was tall–just shy of six–foot–three–and lean, his posture straight and poised. Every gesture radiated quiet confidence and a kind of innate nobility.

And his face… Strong, clear–cut features, dark brows, striking blue eyes, a chiseled nose. His thick black hair was perfectly trimmed, every line crisp and precise, giving him an air of effortless aristocracy.