Three days later, Luke finalized his corporate affairs and departed for Boston with Ivy and Willa.
Willa's passport had been retrieved from Jeffrey by Grandpa Clarence and handed over to Ivy. Before they left, the old man instructed Ivy, "Take good care of yourself." His voice was incredibly heavy with deep exhaustion and helplessness.
On the day of the festival, the massive Manning Manor felt completely desolate and empty. Only Ivy remained to accompany Grandpa Clarence. Jeffrey never showed up at all.
Under Grandpa Clarence's relentless questioning, the truth about Jeffrey's injury finally came to light. The old man's face had drained entirely of color as he rushed to see his grandson. By the time he emerged, he ordered someone to bring Willa's passport directly to Ivy.
"It is a very good thing Luke is willing to accept Willa. You must talk to her often. Tell her to stop dwelling on the past. We all have to look forward. She should not let her past become a burden to herself or others."
Looking at her grandfather, Ivy felt an unspeakable ache in her chest. She knew how much he had suffered over the years. During a previous hospitalization, he had barely pulled through. She knew he had held on this long solely because he could not bear to leave her and her brother behind.
"I know, Grandpa. Willa understands too. While I am away, you have to take good care of yourself. I will come back as soon as Willa is settled." Ivy hugged the old man tightly, her eyes turning red with unshed tears.
Grandpa Clarence patted her shoulder reassuringly. "I will take care of myself. Do not worry, go with peace of mind."
At the airport, a sleek Bentley slowly pulled up. The car doors opened smoothly.
Luke stepped out and reached for Willa's hand, gently assisting her from the vehicle. The staff removed their luggage from the trunk.
"Let's go."
Ivy walked over and took Willa's other hand.
The group made their way into the bustling airport.
Meanwhile, in a sealed study at Manning Manor, a tall, weak figure leaned back in an armchair. On the desk sat a small wooden pig, carved in a rather crude manner that completely clashed with the dark, solitary atmosphere of the room.
He picked up the little pig, turning it over in his hand. Willa's bright, sunlit face flashed vividly through his mind. "I made this for you."
Jeffrey had taken the wooden pig and crouched down to look at her. "Why did you carve a pig for me?"
"Because it’s cute!" Willa had answered with utmost seriousness. "When I am not home, this little pig will keep you company."


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