Chapter One Hundred-Twelve

Chapter One Hundred-Twelve
The next morning, I woke to Hunter's arm draped possessively over my waist, his breath warm against my neck. For a moment, I let myself drift in that hazy space between sleep and waking, content to just exist in this bubble with him.
Until I remembered.
My mother's arrest. The interview. The press.
The story would be out by now. We would see if Quinn was right about the reporter.
I carefully extracted myself from Hunter's embrace, sliding out of bed. He stirred but didn't wake, his face peaceful in sleep. I grabbed my robe slipped it over my naked body and tiptoed out of the bedroom, my stomach already churning with anxiety.
In the kitchen, I made tea first, then checked the time. Just past seven. Early enough that the morning papers would be delivered but not so early that the full online media cycle had kicked in.
I found Hunter's tablet on the counter and hesitated before unlocking it. Did I really want to know? Could I face whatever they'd written about us, about me?
Before I could decide, I heard Hunter's footsteps in the hallway.
"You should have woken me," he said, voice still rough with sleep as he padded into the kitchen. He wore only pajama bottoms, his chest bare, hair mussed. Even now, the sight of him made my heart skip.
"You were sleeping so peacefully." I gestured to the tablet. "I was just about to check."
Hunter came to stand beside me, his hand settling at the small of my back. "Let's do it together then."
I nodded, taking a deep breath as I pulled up the Times website.
There it was, front page digital edition. A photo of me and Hunter leaving the office, his arm protectively around my waist. The headline was simpler than I'd expected:
SURROGACY SCANDAL: GRACE SPEAKS OUT
It was shocking to think we were front page news. Hunter was used to seeing himself in newspapers and business magazines, but this was totally new to me.
"Let's see what she wrote," Hunter murmured, his voice calm but with an undercurrent of tension.
I scrolled down to read the article, my heart in my throat.
The story was... fair. Almost kind. It laid out the facts of my mother's arrest, the allegations against the fertility clinic, Helena's role in orchestrating it all. But instead of portraying me as a victim or Hunter as complicit, it emphasized our strength, our unity in the face of betrayal.
The reporter had quoted me directly about the baby being wanted and loved, about truth always finding its way to light. She'd included my father's staunch support, his insistence that he'd known nothing of the illegal arrangements. It even made Dad look good; it might just save his campaign. He didn't care but I did.
"It's... good," I said, surprised. "Better than I expected."
Hunter read over my shoulder, his arm tightening around me. "Quinn's reporter came through."
I scrolled further, finding more quotes from the interview, including Hunter's measured statements about supporting the investigation and focusing on our family's future.
Near the end, there was mention of my mother declining to comment through her attorney, followed by a brief summary of the legal situation. The article closed with:
"For Grace and Hunter Sinclair, what began as a story of deception has transformed into one of hope. 'This baby was created through lies,' Mrs. Sinclair told me, her hand protectively over her stomach, 'but it will be raised with truth and love.'"
I hadn't even remembered saying those exact words, but they resonated with me now. Truth. After so much deception, it felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
"She did us justice," Hunter said quietly, pressing a kiss to my temple.
Relief washed through me. "One decent article doesn't mean they'll all be kind."
"No," he agreed. "But it's a start."
I set the tablet down, turning to face him fully. "Do you think my father's seen it?"
"I'm sure he has. But we can call him after breakfast if you want."
I nodded, suddenly aware of the empty feeling in my stomach. "I should eat something."
Hunter immediately shifted into protective mode, guiding me to a stool at the counter. "I'll make you breakfast. What do the babies want today?"
His casual reference to our twins made my heart swell. "Scrambled eggs maybe? With toast?"
He got to work, moving around the kitchen with efficient grace. I watched him, still marveling that this man, this powerful, commanding presence who ran a corporate empire and dominated our bedroom, could be so tender when it came to taking care of me. Hunter had so many sides to him. I loved them all.
As Hunter set a plate in front of me, the doorbell rang. We exchanged a glance.
"I'll get it," he said, his posture tensing slightly. "Eat."
I took a bite of toast as Hunter disappeared toward the front door. A moment later, I heard familiar voices, Quinn's voice and Max's deeper rumble. Relief washed through me. Not reporters, then.
They followed Hunter into the kitchen, both immaculately dressed despite the early hour. Quinn carried a stack of newspapers under her arm.
I looked between Quinn and Max. What were they doing together at this hour? It would be quite a coincidence if they had turned up here at the same time. I lifted an eyebrow at Hunter; he gave me a small smile. He had been thinking the same thing.
"Morning," Max said, his easy smile as he kissed me on the cheek, making Hunter frown. "Thought you two might want some moral support for the morning paper review."
"And we brought baked goods," Quinn added, setting a bag on the counter.
Hunter rolled his eyes but didn't argue. "You're both here awfully early."
Quinn shrugged, spreading the newspapers across the counter. "Wanted to beat the rush. Once the rest of the media picks this up, your phones won't stop ringing."
"We read the Times story." I eyed the papers nervously. "How bad is it?"
"Mixed," Quinn admitted. "The Times piece is excellent; my contact did us proud. The Post went more sensational, but they didn't assassinate your character, which is frankly miraculous for them."
Max grabbed a stool, settling beside me. "The business publications are surprisingly supportive. They're focusing more on the clinic's ethical violations than any personal angle. On what can be done to stop this from happening again."
Hunter stood at my other side, his hand on my shoulder as we examined the headlines. Some were better than others:
MOTHER ARRESTED IN SURROGACY FRAUD CASE
SINCLAIR WIFE VICTIM OF EGG THEFT SCHEME
FERTILITY CLINIC UNDER INVESTIGATION AFTER WILSON ARREST
SINCLAIR HEIR: CONCEIVED IN DECEPTION, BORN IN LOVE
That last one made me pause. It was almost poetic.
"Not as bad as it could be," I said finally. I hated the fact that our babies were tied to this, and could one day know about it. We would have to make sure they knew they were loved and wanted. They had no part in this mess.
Quinn nodded, her expression softening slightly. "The narrative is shifting, Grace. You and Hunter are being seen as the wronged parties here. That's exactly what we wanted. For you both. They could have thought Hunter was in on it with Helena."
"And your father comes off looking completely innocent," Max added. "Which, from what I understand, he is."
"Small mercies," I murmured, taking another bite of my breakfast. The eggs were perfect, just as Hunter always made them.
"What's the next step?" Hunter asked, his hand still resting protectively on my shoulder.
Quinn sipped her coffee before answering. "We wait. Let the story settle. Your statement is out there. People will talk, but without new fuel, the fire will eventually die down."
"And my mother?" I couldn't help asking.
"Her arraignment is tomorrow," Quinn said. "My guess is she'll plead not guilty, drag this out."
"Of course she will," I muttered. "Margo Wilson doesn't admit mistakes."
Max leaned forward, his expression unusually serious. "You don't have to be there, Grace. None of you do."
"I won't be," I said firmly. The thought of seeing her in court, of meeting those cold eyes that had never really seen me, made my stomach turn. I didn't need or want her in my life. She had always loved Helena, while I had just been there. I had my dad, Hunter and my friends. I didn't need Margo.
Hunter's hand squeezed my shoulder. "Good."
We finished breakfast with Quinn and Max, the conversation drifting to safer topics, work, the renovation Hunter wanted to start on the nursery. I noticed Quinn watching Max with a strange expression whenever he wasn't looking her way. There was definitely something happening there. I wanted to ask but kept silent.
After they left, promising to call with any updates, Hunter and I stood in the quiet kitchen.
"So," I said, "we survived the first news cycle."
Hunter pulled me against his chest, his arms solid around me. "We did. And we'll survive the rest."
I tilted my face up to his. "You know what the worst part is? I don't even feel sad about her being arrested. What does that say about me?"
"It says you've finally stopped letting others hurt you," Hunter said softly, his fingers tracing my jaw. "That you've set boundaries. It's healthy, Grace. I'm so proud of you. I can't believe how lucky I am to have this second chance with you."
I looked into his eyes seeing the truth, letting his words sink in. "I guess I've spent so long being the good daughter, the perfect sister, that I don't know how to just... be me. Without guilt. I will never again let anyone use me."
"You have plenty of time to learn." His hand drifted to my stomach. "And these two will help teach you."
I covered his hand with mine, feeling that now-familiar wave of love and protectiveness. "I can't wait to tell everyone about them."
"Soon," he promised. "Let's get through this news cycle first."
"Agreed." I went up on tiptoes to brush my lips against his. "Thank you."
Hunter's brow furrowed slightly. "For what?"
"For being here. For loving me. For giving me a real family."
His expression softened as he pulled me closer. "Forever, Grace. Forever."