Chapter 590: Taking Out Mother’s Ashes

As if she had thought of something, Ivy Sherwood said, "Wait a moment!"

She then walked over to the side, took out a sandalwood-colored box, and placed it in front of Ovillette.

"This..." Ovillette’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

Though he had no idea what was inside, his eyes welled with tears the moment he saw the box. His trembling hands traced its surface, yet he didn’t dare to open it.

"Open it," Ivy said gently. "Perhaps you’d like to see her."

Ovillette didn’t know how much strength it took him to finally pry the box open. Inside was a transparent jar filled with a fine powder.

"These are my mother’s ashes. She..."

Ivy choked on her words. Seeing Ovillette’s reaction, she couldn’t bring herself to say anything more.

If two people who truly loved each other were finally reunited after over two decades, only for one to have become ashes—how agonizing must it be for the one left behind. Even though Ovillette hadn’t regained his memories, Ivy felt that this was still a form of torment and punishment for him.

Since Caleb Blackwood had dug up her mother’s grave and stolen the ashes, Ivy had nearly lost them forever. Worried that someone else might try to use her mother for their own schemes, she had kept the ashes close by her side. This way, she could also look at them whenever she missed her mother.

Ovillette stared at the jar, tears falling drop by drop. His body trembled uncontrollably, a picture of profound agony.

Unable to bear disturbing him, Ivy quietly slipped out of the study, leaving Ovillette with the time and space he needed.

Meanwhile, an explosive pain erupted in Ovillette’s head. It felt as if something was desperately trying to tear through his nerves, yet he couldn’t remember a single thing. His physical instincts had clearly overridden everything else; just the sight of the ashes was enough to make him lose all control.

But the memories still eluded him. He knew the heavens had robbed him of his most precious treasure, yet they hadn’t even left him with his recollections. He couldn’t restrain his emotions or his heart—the shivering, the crushing regret. His knuckles turned white from the force of his grip, and the veins at his temples throbbed violently.

How could a living, breathing person be reduced to such a small handful of dust? Why hadn’t he come to Calypsos sooner to discover all of this?

Now, all Ovillette was left with was endless heartache.

After Ivy stepped out, she noticed several pairs of eyes fixed intently on her. "What are you guys doing?"

"Ivy, Ovillette didn’t do anything to you, did he?"

"He’s not a bad person. What could he possibly do? We just chatted for a bit."

Ivy then turned to Zion Landon. "Dr. Landon, is it true that he might never remember?"

"It depends," Dr. Landon replied. "He was under hypnosis for far too long. With years of deep-rooted psychological suggestion, he won’t regain his memory in just a day or two. The chances are slim, but it’s not entirely impossible. Everything depends on how things progress and sheer luck."

Although seeing more objects from the past would make it easier to trigger his memories, there was very little left related to Winter Mercer, aside from Ivy herself.

Ovillette stayed alone in the study for nearly the entire day. Worried that he might have passed out or that something else had happened, Ivy quietly pushed the door open to peek inside. She saw him sitting perfectly still, his gaze fixed on the jar in front of him. Assuming he just wanted some peace and quiet, she left him undisturbed.

It wasn’t until evening that Ivy prepared to knock on the door, wanting to ask if he would like to come out for dinner. However, Ovillette suddenly stood up, walked over, and pressed the glass jar back into her hands.

"Please take good care of this for me. I have some urgent matters to attend to, so I must take my leave."

"Why don’t you stay for dinner before you go?" Ivy tried to stop him, but Ovillette hurried away.

The rest of them had dinner together, though no one had much of an appetite.

Quentin Blackwood sat beside Ivy, putting food on her plate and urging her to eat. Ivy had no appetite either. Quentin picked up a piece of food and held it to her lips. "Open your mouth."

"My brothers are still here. I can feed myself," she protested. "Besides, I’m genuinely not hungry. I’m full."

"You’ve barely eaten anything. Have a little more. Be good."

Resigned, Ivy opened her mouth and took a few more bites, before Quentin practically forced her to finish half a bowl of soup.

Although this flat was only a little over three hundred square meters and lacked the grandeur of a villa, it was more than spacious enough to accommodate all of them. When night fell, the others decided to stay over as well.

Quentin, Xavier Mercer, and the rest still had business to discuss, so they gathered on the other side of the room.

"Jason Summers is incredibly cunning. Even with so many of us, we still can’t track him down," Miles Mercer remarked.

"All those businesses of his are fake," Xavier added, frowning. "Digging up his real operations probably won’t be that simple. My people reported that they’re all shell companies—just a front. Everything looks pristine on the surface, but in reality, they’re likely used for money laundering."

"Our top priority is catching the man himself, but we haven’t made any progress at all."

Just then, Ivy’s voice rang out from behind them. "How about I do it?"

"No!" the three men shot back in near unison.

"I haven’t even told you my plan yet. Why are you immediately saying no?"

"No matter what the plan is, the answer is no," Quentin said firmly.

He would never let Ivy put herself in danger. Even if it meant failing to catch Jason Summers, he absolutely refused to let her step into the line of fire.

Ivy walked over. "If Jason Summers really intends to make a move, he’ll find a way regardless of whether I stay cooped up at home all day. It’s better if I take the initiative and try to lure him out. I have a feeling I might be holding onto something he wants. Or... I could pretend that I want to acknowledge him as family, reach out to him, and at least pinpoint his location first."

"That’s way too dangerous," all three men objected.

"However, the bait strategy is worth trying," Quentin mused. "But you won’t be the one doing it. I will."

With that, he walked off to start making the arrangements for the plan.

It wasn’t until late into the night that the group finally dispersed. Quentin led Ivy off to bed, as they still had other matters to attend to the next day.

Since their wedding was taking place next month and the preparations were proceeding smoothly, it was time for her to try on her wedding dress. The gown Quentin had commissioned was finally ready, and she would have her first fitting tomorrow. He had arranged for it to be delivered directly to their home, along with the designers, so any necessary alterations could be made on the spot.

The next day arrived quickly, and the house was bustling with activity bright and early.

Watching the staff pour in, Ivy’s heart swelled with unparalleled excitement.

The head designer hadn’t arrived yet—she had heard they would be the last to enter. Suddenly, a familiar, thrilled voice echoed through the room. "Ivy!"