Chapter One Hundred-Eight

Chapter One Hundred-Eight
Hunter's POV
I was in the kitchen making eggs when my phone rang. Morrison's name flashed on the screen, and my stomach tightened. Grace was still asleep upstairs, and I wanted to keep it that way, at least until I knew what this call was about.
"Morrison," I answered, keeping my voice low.
"Mr. Sinclair, I'm calling to let you know we've just arrested Margo Wilson."
I paused, setting down the spatula. "When?"
"About an hour ago. She's being processed now. Thought you and Mrs. Sinclair should know before it hits the news."
I exhaled slowly. It was expected, but hearing it confirmed still felt like a punch to the gut. For Grace's sake.
"Thank you for the heads up," I said.
"There's one more thing. Your father-in-law asked us to call you and let you know. He'd like to speak with Grace when she's ready."
Poor John. This was going to destroy what was left of his campaign, but he'd made his choice. He had stayed with Margo instead of leaving her years ago.
"I'll let her know," I said. "Thank you, Detective."
"Mr. Sinclair? For what it's worth, I'm sorry it came to this. But the evidence was overwhelming. I know Mrs. Sinclair was worried about it. But we had to follow the information given to us in Helena Sinclair's diary."
"I understand, and so will Grace. Thank you for giving me the heads up."
After hanging up, I stood there for a moment, staring at the phone. Grace would be devastated, even if she'd been expecting this. She might claim she didn't have strong feelings for her mother anymore, but blood was blood.
Footsteps on the stairs made me look up. Grace appeared in the doorway, hair tousled from sleep, wearing one of my t-shirts that hit her mid-thigh. Beautiful. Even first thing in the morning, she took my breath away.
"Morning," she said, moving to kiss me. "You're up early."
I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close. "Good morning, beautiful. How are you feeling?"
She pulled back to look at me, her expression immediately shifting to concern. "What's wrong?"
I should have known she'd read me that easily. Grace saw everything, especially when it came to me. I wish I had married her the first time around. But maybe Helena and Emma were part of what I had needed to experience to appreciate Grace for who she was.
"Come sit down," I said gently, guiding her to the island.
"Hunter, you're scaring me."
I poured her tea, buying myself a moment. "That was Detective Morrison on the phone."
Grace went very still beside me. "And?"
"They arrested your mother this morning."
I watched her face carefully, expecting tears or shock or anger. Instead, she just nodded slowly, her expression almost... relieved.
"Is that all?" she asked quietly.
"Your father asked Morrison to let us know, and he wants to talk to you when you're ready."
Her hand moved instinctively to her stomach, that protective gesture I'd come to love. "Poor Dad. This is going to ruin everything for him."
"He knew that was a possibility. But you never know. He could come off as the victim as well, if we stand by him."
Grace was quiet for a long moment, sipping her tea. "I should call him."
"Only if you want to. There's no rush."
She looked up at me, and I was struck by how calm she seemed. Centered in a way I hadn't seen since Helena's death.
"I do want to," she said finally. "But first... there's something I need to say."
I waited.
"I'm not sorry she was arrested," Grace admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Is that terrible? She's my mother, and I'm not sorry she's facing consequences for what she did."
Relief flooded through me. "No, sweetheart. It's not terrible. It's healthy."
She nodded, her fingers tracing the rim of her mug. "I keep waiting to feel guilty about it. But I don't. She hurt me, Hunter. She used me. And she would have let Helena steal my babies if she'd lived."
"Our babies," I corrected gently.
A small smile curved her lips. "Our babies."
As I watched Grace reach for her phone to call her father, I stopped her. "Baby, please eat breakfast first."

Grace's POV
I nodded, setting my phone aside and reaching for the plate Hunter had made me. The eggs were perfectly scrambled, the toast golden brown. He'd even added a slice of the fruit I'd been craving lately.
"You don't have to wait on me hand and foot," I said, taking a bite. "But I have to admit I like it."
"Yes, I do." His voice was firm as he settled beside me with his own plate. "You're carrying our babies." He shook his head. "Plus, I like taking care of you, Grace."
The tenderness in his voice made my chest tighten. I still wasn't used to this, being someone's priority, being cherished. But I was learning to accept it, even if part of me still expected it to disappear.
"Dad's going to need me," I said quietly, taking another bite. "When this hits the news, when the vultures start circling..."
"We'll be there for him," Hunter assured me. "Both of us. But Grace, you can't fix what your mother broke. You can only control how you move forward."
I knew he was right. But that didn't make it easier.
My phone buzzed with a text. I glanced at it, expecting Dad or Quinn if it had hit the news.
Instead, it was a number I didn't recognize.
I stared at the unknown number, my finger hovering over the screen.
"Who is it?" Hunter asked, noticing my hesitation.
"I don't recognize the number." I showed him the screen. "Could be a reporter."
"Let it go to voicemail," he said firmly. "If it's important, they'll leave a message."
The phone stopped buzzing, then almost immediately started again. Same number.
Hunter's jaw tightened. "Turn it off."
I continued to eat. When I saw the caller had left a message, I picked up the phone to listen to it.
"Grace? Grace Wilson—Sinclair. My name is David Chen. I'm a reporter with the Times. I know you probably don't want to talk to the press right now, but I would like to interview you. Please return my call." He then reeled off his number. I wasn't interested. The only reporter I would speak to would be the one Quinn had said was okay.
I deleted the message without writing down the number and set the phone aside. "Reporter," I told Hunter simply.
"Let them all go to voicemail." He reached across the table, covering my hand with his. "You don't owe anyone an explanation, Grace. Not reporters, not strangers, not anyone."
I finished my eggs while Hunter watched me with those observant eyes, making sure I actually ate. It was sweet, the way he looked after me.
"Better?" he asked when I pushed the empty plate away.
"Much." I picked up my phone again, this time scrolling to Dad's number. "I should call him now."
Hunter nodded, squeezing my hand once more before standing to clear our dishes. I appreciated that he was giving me space for the conversation while staying close enough if I needed him.
Dad answered on the second ring.
"Grace?" His voice was rough, strained. "I've been waiting for your call."
"Hi, Dad." I closed my eyes, bracing myself. "I heard about Mom."
"They came early this morning. Perp walk and everything." His bitter laugh held no humor. "The neighbors got quite a show."
I winced. "Dad, I'm so sorry—"
"Don't." His voice was firm. "Don't apologize for her choices, sweetheart. I'm the one who should be sorry. For not protecting you better. For not seeing what was happening right under my nose. I know I said it before. But this will live with me forever."
"You couldn't have known… Dad, it all worked out okay in the end."
"I should have known." I heard him moving around, probably pacing like he did when he was agitated. "I failed you, Grace. Let your mother and Helena manipulate you into something that never should have happened."
"Dad, stop." My voice came out sharper than I intended. "You didn't fail me. You're here now, supporting me. That's what matters."
A long pause. "The campaign's over. Not like I care now. The main thing to me now is you."
I felt tears sting my eyes. All those years of work, of building toward this moment, destroyed because of Mom's greed and Helena's selfishness.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"I'm not." His voice was stronger now. "You matter more than any political office, Grace. You and that baby. My priorities were wrong for too long, but they're clear now."
Relief flooded through me. "Thank you for saying that."
"I love you, sweetheart. And I'm proud of you for standing up to them all. For not letting them break you."
Hunter appeared beside me, setting a fresh cup of tea within reach. His hand rested briefly on my shoulder, a silent offer of support.
"Dad," I said, drawing strength from Hunter's presence. "There's something else I need to tell you."
"What is it?"
I looked up at Hunter, who nodded encouragingly. We were going to wait, but I needed to tell him. "We're having twins."
Silence stretched across the line.
"Dad?"
"Twins?" His voice cracked slightly. "Really?"
"Really. We just found out yesterday during the scan."
"Oh, Grace." I could hear the emotion in his voice now. "That's... that's wonderful news. The best news. How are you feeling?"
"Overwhelmed but happy." I smiled for the first time since Morrison's call. "Very happy."
"And Hunter? How's he taking it?"
I glanced up at my husband, who was watching me with such tenderness it made my heart skip. "He's thrilled."
"Good. That's good." Dad's voice steadied. "Two grandbabies. After everything that's happened... it feels like hope."
"It is hope," I said softly.
We talked for a few more minutes about the babies, about when he might visit our new house, about anything except the investigation or what would happen to Mom. When I finally hung up, I set the phone down and exhaled.
"How is he?" Hunter asked, settling beside me again.
"Better than I expected." I shrugged. "Come on, let's go to work and face the demon press."