Wrong Flirt, Right Trouble: His Uncle Pulls Me Close

Chapter 219: Chapter 219: When Did Ivy Sherwood Seduce the Young Uncle?

Sylvia Blackwood rushed out of the club and looked around. She only saw Ivy Sherwood helping a man into a car over there, but she couldn’t see the man’s face.

She charged straight over. "Ivy Sherwood!"

The moment Ivy Sherwood turned around, she saw a hand flying toward her face.

With quick reflexes, Ivy Sherwood kicked Sylvia Blackwood squarely in the leg.

Before Sylvia Blackwood’s hand could connect, she fell straight to her knees, her open palm landing on the ground to break her fall. It was an utterly pathetic sight.

"Well, if it isn’t Sylvia Blackwood. There’s no need for such a grand bow, is there? The new year hasn’t arrived yet." Ivy Sherwood looked down at the person on the ground, surprised to see Sylvia here.

’Still, for her to dare charge at me like that... she must not have seen Quentin Blackwood.’

’If she had, I doubt she would have had the nerve.’

Passersby saw the scene, and Sylvia Blackwood’s face burned with utter humiliation.

She scrambled up from the ground. "You dare kick me!"

"I kicked you? Do you have any proof? Miss Blackwood, you shouldn’t blame others just because you’re clumsy and fell over."

Sylvia Blackwood was furious. How dare Ivy Sherwood speak to her like this? In the past, Ivy had always been so meek and submissive.

"Ivy Sherwood, you’ve certainly grown a temper! Who was that man you were hugging just now? Are you trying to cheat on my brother?"

"Have you not been online, or can you just not read? Did you not see the public notice about the engagement being called off?" Ivy Sherwood was now full of confidence. "I have nothing to do with your brother, and I have nothing to do with your Blackwood family."

"Even if I were to fool around with a hundred men now, it would be none of your business."

"You!" Sylvia Blackwood couldn’t believe Ivy was being so brazen.

"Ivy Sherwood, were you sleeping around with other men even before you got with my brother? You’re completely shameless!" All Sylvia wanted to do right now was curse someone out, especially Ivy.

After Ivy’s visit to the Blackwood estate earlier today, Sylvia had immediately checked the internet.

The Blackwood family was trending again, and the comments were all cursing out her brother—and her.

She could handle them cursing her brother, but why were they coming after her? She hadn’t done anything!

"Compared to your brother, who would even dare claim to be more shameless?"

Sylvia couldn’t be bothered to argue with Ivy. She started banging on the car door. "Hey, you in there! You’re the one fooling around with Ivy, aren’t you? Do you have any idea what kind of person she is? She’s trash! Who knows how many men she’s slept with. She’s just something my brother threw away."

Sylvia had also had too much to drink. Her head was buzzing, and she wanted to slander Ivy any way she could.

But to her surprise, the car window actually rolled down.

The moment she saw the profile of the person inside, she was shocked sober.

"Un... Uncle?" Sylvia’s eyes widened in disbelief. It was her uncle sitting inside the car.

His grim, cold profile and his bone-chilling glare made Sylvia’s legs go weak. She almost collapsed to her knees again.

Ivy was surprised, too. ’Wasn’t Quentin Blackwood drunk? He doesn’t look the least bit intoxicated now.’

"Is this the upbringing the Blackwood family gave you?" The man’s voice was devoid of any warmth.

"I... I just..." Sylvia finally registered what she had just said.

She had been so angry that the words had just tumbled out. Now that she thought about it, what she’d said was truly vile and shouldn’t have come from her lips.

"Uncle, I was just so angry. It’s her fault for messing around with another man behind my brother’s back! My friends saw her hugging someone else."

Sylvia glanced cautiously at Quentin Blackwood. "Uncle, why are you with her?"

’Could it be... the man her friends saw was Quentin Blackwood?’

’No, that’s impossible.’

’She wasn’t close to her uncle, but she knew his character. How could he possibly be interested in a woman her own brother had cast aside?’

’When did Ivy manage to seduce him? He must have been drunk, and she must have been lying in wait for an opportunity to use him.’

"Uncle, don’t let Ivy Sherwood fool you! She’s a scheming bitch."

"Apologize to her," Quentin Blackwood’s voice commanded with irrefutable authority.

"Uncle! Her engagement to my brother is over! She’s an outsider now. How can you side with an outsider?"

"I’ll say it one last time. Apologize."

"I will not apologize to her! It’s not like I said anything wrong. That’s what she is—"

"She doesn’t need to apologize," Ivy Sherwood said suddenly.

Sylvia sneered, "See? She doesn’t even want an apology. That’s because she has a guilty conscience and is admitting to—"

SLAP! Before Sylvia could finish, a sharp slap landed squarely on her face.

She clutched her cheek, shocked that Ivy had actually dared to hit her.

Ivy had put all her strength into that slap, and Sylvia’s ears were ringing.

"You hit me?" Her voice trembled on the verge of tears.

"I don’t need your apology. Because I wanted to hit you, and I have no intention of apologizing for it."

Ivy’s tone was calm and detached. Her expression was unchanged, but her eyes had turned frigid, and a chilling aura radiated from her.

Sylvia felt as if an invisible hand were squeezing her throat. Meeting Ivy’s gaze, she found it hard to breathe.

"Sylvia Blackwood, do you know what you look like right now? A shrew from some TV drama. No real power, so all you can do is spread vulgar rumors and throw a powerless tantrum."

Ivy stared at her and said, word by word, "The way you were acting just now was truly ugly."

Sylvia stared at her reflection in the car window, her expression dazed. ’The way I acted just now... it really was ugly, wasn’t it?’

"And another thing. Those people over there enjoying the show... are they your friends? Your so-called friends just seem to want to watch you make a fool of yourself. Sylvia Blackwood, sometimes I don’t know whether to feel sorry for you or pity you. It’s just sad."

Sylvia turned and saw the people who had just been called out. They were, in fact, the socialites from her private room.

Their expressions were that of people enjoying a spectacle. Sylvia felt like they were all pointing and whispering about her.

"What are you all talking about? What are you pointing at?" Sylvia stormed up to them.

Without a word, they all hurried away, and the party quickly broke up.

A short while later, Sylvia saw a video of herself in a group chat—a clip of her kneeling on the ground, followed by Ivy slapping her across the face.

’How could they...?’

Now the entire socialite circle would know what happened. Sylvia’s face burned, a sting far more painful than the slap itself.

Just then, Sylvia’s phone rang. She pulled it out and saw it was Silas Blackwood.

"Brother!"

The moment she answered, Silas’s anxious voice came through. "Sylvia? Did you see Ivy today? Who was she with? Did you see the man?"

Sylvia froze. ’Did Silas see the video? Shouldn’t his first question be about how I am, or if I’m hurt?’