The Villainess Needs a Hug (Ivy Windsor) novel Chapter 717

Jamison had never realized he harbored such quirks, but judging from Ivy’s expression, she didn’t seem to be making any of it up.

He sat in silence for a moment, nervously clutching the blanket, before finally asking, “Besides taking off my own clothes, what else did I do?”

Seeing how genuinely baffled he was, Ivy couldn’t help but tease him. She turned over, propping her head on one hand, her bright eyes glinting mischievously. “Let’s see… You kept confessing your love, wouldn’t let go of me, acting both needy and adorably stubborn…”

Before she could finish, Jamison tried to protest, but Ivy raised her other hand to cut him off, grinning as she went on, “Don’t believe me? Ask your nephew. He even took pictures–said that scene was too rare to miss!”

Jamison’s face turned to stone, and Ivy burst out laughing at his mortification.

Men and their pride–there was no way Jamison would actually ask about it. All he could do was stew in embarrassment, wrapping himself tighter in the blanket as he

headed for the bathroom.

Ivy called after him, still in high spirits, “Where are you off to, all wrapped up? It’s not like I didn’t see everything last night! Hey, why’d you stop asking? There’s plenty more I could tell you about your drunken escapades… Dr. Ludwig?”

Her answer came in the form of the bathroom door closing–firm, final, and just a little sulky.

Ivy laughed so hard she gave up on sleep entirely and grabbed her phone. Sure enough, a flood of WhatsApp notifications waited at the top of the screen.

The group chat, “Stonks Only Go Up,” was already buzzing.

Bob: Are the gentlemen who drank too much awake yet? Everyone alright?

Jay: Battling a killer hangover…

Dale Sullivan: Pulled an all–nighter at the office fixing bugs.

Coach Murphy: [thumbs up] That’s dedication.

Coach Murphy: I’m still in bed. My head feels like it’s in a vice.

Dale Sullivan: Dr. Ludwig drank the most last night–no word from him yet.

Bob: No worries, Ivy will take good care of her husband.

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Jay: Yeah, we’re all single here. The only two who aren’t just happen to be marrier.

to each other.

Jay: Instead of worrying about them, maybe worry about yourself.

Dale Sullivan: Seeing the Ludwigs so sweet together almost makes me want to fall

in love.

Coach Murphy: So do it! You coders make good money; you’re a hot commodity.

Bob: Straight–laced engineers–good for earning, not much else.

Jay: Come on, you ladies set the bar too high! Making money is the best quality a guy can have, and if he’s too busy to spend it, that just means more for his partner, right?

Bob: [laughing emoji] When you put it that way, it’s like having your own personal

ATM with zero maintenance.

Ivy scrolled through the chat, a smile tugging at her lips. Maybe, just maybe, another couple might blossom in this group after all.

When Jamison finally emerged from the shower, Ivy called him over.

“What is it?” Dr. Ludwig still looked a bit sheepish, his pride clearly wounded from the previous night’s antics.

Ivy turned her phone toward him. “What do you think–do these two have a shot?”

“Who?”

“Sophia and Dale Sullivan. She runs that trendy café–definitely a romantic at heart. He’s a classic, introverted engineer. Total opposites–they might just balance each

other out.”

Jamison shot her a look. “You’re addicted to playing matchmaker, aren’t you?”

She’d already set up her best friend with one of his closest buddies, and now she was eyeing up potential matches even in her online circles.

“It was just a thought,” Ivy said lightly.

Jamison headed to the walk–in closet to get dressed, calling out, “I’m heading back to the hospital. I’ll try to get home early this afternoon, and tonight we’re having dinner at the old place,”

Ivy frowned. “Do I really have to go?”

“Yes,” Jamison replied, his tone softening. “Everything with my sister has been

blowing up, and the whole family knows now. My grandmother’s health lên tor to begin with, and this has only made things worse–she’s so upset, it’s made her sick.”

Ivy’s heart tightened at that.

She thought of Carla–her only son in such dire straits, and her husband’s affair, with a secret child added to the scandal. The rest of her life would be nothing but hardship.

Men could father children well into their sixties, but for women, having kids after forty was nearly impossible.

She shuddered to think what would happen if Micah were to pass away. What would Carla do then?

Even with all their wealth and status, losing a child in middle age and a husband’s betrayal would be enough to break anyone.

She worried Carla might not survive the blow.

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