The Villainess Needs a Hug (Ivy Windsor) novel Chapter 340

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Chapter 340

Jamison nodded politely. “Warren, there’s no need to blame yourself. What happened last night isn’t your fault, and it certainly isn’t the police’s either. I know your job isn’t easy–I understand.”

Warren looked deeply relieved. “Thank you, Mr. Ludwig.”

After the brief exchange, Ivy gently steered the conversation back to business. “Warren, where’s Silly? I’d like to see him now, if that’s possible.”

“Of course. Given everything you’ve been through, I thought it’d be better if we didn’t go to his house. He’s waiting in the community office–I’ll take you there.”

Warren headed up the task force for missing persons and had plenty of experience working with rescued women. He was sensitive to the fact that returning to Silly’s home would only stir up painful memories for Ivy, so he’d already arranged for Silly to be brought somewhere neutral.

Inside the small community office, a frail young man sat hunched on a battered chair, looking barely older than sixteen, though he was at least twenty. His hair was a tangled mess, his clothes threadbare, and his shoes didn’t even match.

Even while sitting perfectly still and silent, his body wouldn’t let him be; every so often, his limbs jerked involuntarily. His jaw jutted out, and his features were twisted, almost as if caught in a permanent grimace.

This was Silly.

Though he was a grown man, his body looked stunted, locked in the awkwardness

of adolescence.

He slouched in the chair, eyes darting between the officers at the door. The way he looked at the uniformed police was a strange mix of awe and longing.

Maybe somewhere inside that crooked, battered body, he harbored a bright, impossible dream–to become like these officers: strong, upright, a guardian of

others.

But reality crept in, and the hope in his eyes faded. He looked away, sinking back into his own world of silence and stillness.

A noise from outside snapped him to attention. He jolted upright, neck stiff as a robot, eyes glued to the doorway.

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Ivy stepped inside and immediately saw the familiar face on the chair.

Silly saw her too. For a moment, he looked lost, then a wide, goofy grin spread across his face as he struggled to his feet.

“D–Daisy…” he stammered, his voice as lopsided as his smile.

Ivy’s emotions tangled inside her. She hesitated, then finally walked over.

“Silly…” she managed a small, strained smile. “How are you doing?”

He nodded eagerly, words tumbling out in broken bursts. “Good! Real good. After… after you left, I–I slept better, every night. Heh, heh…”

He walked with a crooked, shuffling gait, his neck twitching, his face contorted even in joy. But his eyes were clear as mountain air–unguarded, unspoiled.

Ivy understood what he meant, and her heart filled with gratitude. “I’m glad. Seeing you well puts my mind at ease.”

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