Chapter 58
Grace's POV
The private room was dimly lit, expensive equipment humming quietly. Aria lay propped against white pillows, looking frailer than I'd ever seen her, but when her eyes locked onto mine, joy bloomed across her face.
"Grace, darling," she said, her voice carrying that familiar warmth that had once made me feel like family. But now our relationship would become distant because of Richard.
I approached the bed, setting my gifts on the nearby table.
"Grandma, I brought you some nutritional supplements and flowers," I said, settling into the chair beside her bed.
"My dear child, I hope you didn't spend too much money on these gifts," her tone carried a subtle condescension I'd never noticed before. "You know how we feel about... extravagance."
"Just ordinary nutritional supplements," I said calmly.
"You're so thoughtful. Grandmother is very touched," she continued, each word measured and deliberate. She paused, then continued with what sounded like a rehearsed line. "Since you care so much, why don't you stop this silly quarrel with Richard and come home? You can work things out together."
I looked down at her hand holding mine. Such a small, fragile thing. Once upon a time, I might have been moved by her words. But now I felt that this family seemed to possess performance skills carved into their very bones.
Alex's grandparents gave me equality and respect. But Aria was like she was bestowing charity.
"Grandma," I said, my voice soft but unmistakably firm. "We'll handle our own affairs. You should focus on getting better."
"Grace, dear, family is everything. Whatever Richard has done, whatever mistakes—"
"This is no longer about mistakes." I gently withdrew my hand from hers, standing up with quiet dignity. "This is about respect. And truth."
Silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken understanding. Aria's face crumpled slightly, as if she finally grasped that her words couldn't bridge the chasm that had opened.
"Aria, please take care of yourself," I said, picking up my purse. "I need to go."
"Grace, wait—" Aria's voice trembled with desperation.
"Aria, please rest well. I'll take my leave now."
The moment I stepped into the hallway, I could feel the tension crackling in the air like electricity before a storm. Margaret and Jason stood near the nurses' station, their faces a mixture of shock and barely contained panic.
Margaret's eyes locked onto mine immediately. "Grace! You can't just—"
But I walked past them without a word, my heels clicking against the polished floor with determined precision. Let them scramble. Let them panic.
Behind me, I heard Aria's voice rise from the room, sharp with authority despite her weakened state.
"Richard! Richard, get in here right now!"
I didn't slow down. I didn't look back.
---
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime. I stepped inside, my finger hovering over the button for the ground floor.
"Grace!"
Richard appeared at the elevator entrance, slightly out of breath.
"Please," he said, stepping closer but not quite entering the elevator. "Don't leave like this. Grandma's health—she needs stability right now."
I looked at him, really looked at him, and felt nothing but a cold, crystalline clarity.
"Richard, you need to take a good look at yourself."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean exactly what I said." My voice was steady, almost conversational. "This charade. This lie we've been living. It's over."
"Grace, if this is about the fertility issue, I swear it was a misunderstanding—"
"Stop." I held up my hand, and something in my tone made him freeze. "Just stop talking. I'm done with your explanations. I'm done with your excuses. I'm done with you."
Richard's mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. "You don't mean that. You're upset, you're emotional—"
"I've never been more rational in my life."
The elevator doors began to close, and Richard lunged forward, his hand shooting out to stop them. But something in my expression—maybe the absolute finality he saw there—made him freeze.
The doors closed with a soft whisper.
---
Richard's POV
I stood in that empty hallway, staring at the closed elevator doors, as if they might magically reopen if I willed it hard enough.
"Richard!" Mother's voice cut through my paralysis. "Where is she?"
I turned slowly, feeling like I was moving through molasses. Mother stood at the end of the hallway, her face expectant, demanding answers I didn't have.
"She left," I said, the words feeling foreign in my mouth.
"What do you mean she left?" Mother's voice rose to a near-shriek. "You were supposed to bring her back!"
Before I could answer, Grandma's voice boomed from her room: "All of you, get in here! Now!"
We filed into Aria's room like condemned prisoners approaching the gallows. Aria was sitting up in bed, her face flushed with anger and something that looked dangerously close to panic.
"Tell me exactly what happened," she demanded, her eyes boring into mine.
Mother's face went through a series of expressions—confusion, realization, then horror. "She said she actually—can get pregnant."
Aria's monitor was beeping faster now.
"Richard," Aria's voice was sharp, cutting through my internal panic. "Answer me. Have you been deceiving us all along?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it. How could I explain Laura? How could I tell them that I'd been living a double life, that the woman they thought was my wife was just a convenient cover for the family I'd been hiding?
"It was a medical error. I didn't know she could get pregnant either." I could only continue with lies to deflect.
My collar felt too tight. The room was too warm. I could feel sweat beading on my forehead, and I knew they could see it too.
"The important thing now," I said, trying to regain control of the conversation, "is getting Grace back. We can discuss the details later."
"First, you're going to fix this mess. You're going to bring that girl back, and you're going to make this right." Grandma's voice carried the authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed.
Mother was pacing now, her heels clicking against the linoleum floor with sharp, staccato beats.
"This changes everything," she muttered, more to herself than to us. "If Grace can have children, if she's been able to all along..."
She stopped abruptly, turning to face me with a look I'd never seen before—cold, calculating, and utterly ruthless.
"Emma becomes a problem."
The words hit me like a physical blow. "What do you mean?"