Chapter 6
Grace's POV
The taxi quickly pulled into the driveway of the Harrison mansion. Though exhausted, my mind was still reeling from everything I'd learned today. The building was silent and dark, with only the porch lights emitting a soft glow. Richard's car was gone, and I couldn't hear the sound of Emma's cartoons that usually filled the house.
As I stepped inside, my heels clicking against the floor, the house felt unusually empty. I made my way to the kitchen, planning to make myself a cup of coffee.
On the marble countertop, Richard's precise handwriting stood out on a monogrammed notecard: "Taking our daughter to the aquarium. Laura came along to help with Emma. Don't wait up."
I stared at the note, a bitter laugh rising in my throat. Our daughter. Laura came along. How thoughtful of him to leave me a note about a family outing I wasn't invited to.
I stood in the spacious kitchen, surrounded by styles I had once meticulously designed. Now they just seemed like expensive props in an elaborate charade. A family of three goes out while leaving a note for the fourth wheel. Isn't that fucking charming?
I went upstairs to my bedroom, started packing my luggage, and scheduled a moving service. Finally, I went to that small room that had been converted from a bedroom—where I developed and perfected my fragrances. I needed the comfort of my work now, needed those familiar scents and processes that had always kept me focused.
When I opened the drawer, the leather-bound notebook containing years of research and formulas was gone.
I methodically searched every drawer, every shelf. Nothing. My entire professional identity had been stripped away. The formula for my signature scent, worth millions in the right hands. The exclusive fragrance collection I'd been developing for Harrison Group's upcoming luxury brand launch—everything was gone.
This wasn't random. This was calculated. Richard had taken everything—the very intellectual property that would have given me independence. I sank into my chair, a cold fury replacing the initial shock. For the first time, I truly understood how completely I'd been used.
My phone rang, Richard's name flashing on the screen.
"Hello?" I answered, keeping my voice neutral despite the rage boiling inside me.
"Grace! Finally," Richard's voice was warm, concerned. "Emma wanted to see the new jellyfish exhibit, and you weren't answering your phone."
"I was busy," I said simply.
"I knew you were busy. Don't work so hard, it worries me," his concern made me nauseated.
Suddenly, Emma's voice came through the phone.
"Dad, don't talk to the bad woman!"
I heard Laura trying to stop her, followed by Richard's muffled voice, "Emma, honey, that's not nice."
His rebuke was half-hearted at best. He returned to the phone with an awkward laugh. "Sorry. She must be tired and getting cranky."
Just as I was about to ask if he had been in my research room, he hurriedly ended the call after promising to bring me a gift.
Perhaps the thought of asking was wrong to begin with—only he had the key to that small bedroom, and the research data was clearly in his hands.
I calmed myself and searched for possible locations where the data might be stored, but after searching our rooms thoroughly, I still found nothing.
---
The next morning, sunlight illuminated the entire room. I could have moved to my new apartment overnight, but I didn't. Running away isn't my style. I wanted to stay and see what kind of "happy family" act they would put on the next morning.
Emma's laughter drifted up from downstairs. I couldn't remember when they had returned. As I went downstairs, I saw an elaborate breakfast spread. Richard was arranging fresh croissants on Emma's plate while Laura sipped coffee from one of my wedding china cups.
"Here you go, princess," Richard said, placing a perfectly cut piece of fruit next to Laura's pastry. The care he took preparing her food—something he had never done for me—felt like a slap in the face.
Richard looked up, finally noticing me. "Grace! Good morning. There's food if you're hungry." He gestured vaguely toward the communal serving plates.
I sat across from Laura, who smiled tensely. "Good morning, Grace. Did you sleep well?"
"As well as can be expected," I replied, taking a croissant.
Laura wore a smile completely devoid of apology. "Sorry, Grace. Emma was insisting on visiting the aquarium yesterday. I guess you're usually too busy to accompany her, so I had Richard take us. Please don't blame him."
"I wouldn't do that. I should thank you for helping me," I maintained my smiling mask, playing along with their charade.
Richard cleared his throat. "Laura has been a tremendous help with Emma. She has such insight into children's behavior."
"Of course," I said pleasantly. "Teachers usually do."
Emma, who had been suspiciously quiet, suddenly reached for the maple syrup. As she pulled it toward her plate, she deliberately tipped the container, sending a stream of sticky amber liquid across the table and directly onto my cream-colored outfit.
"Emma!" Richard said sharply. "What are you doing?!"
Laura quickly handed me a napkin while gently scolding Emma. "Darling, we don't waste food like that. Apologize to Grace."
Emma pouted, looking at her mother rather than me. "Sorry," she mumbled without sincerity.
"Good girl," Laura immediately let her off the hook. "You've finished eating anyway. Why don't you go to your room now?"
"Wait." My voice cut through the room like ice.
I stood up and grabbed Emma's wrist, firmly pulling her toward the wall.
"Stand there," I commanded.
"Let me go!" Emma tried to break free, but I held her firmly.
"Stand. Still." I positioned her against the wall, then walked to a side table with a vase and extracted one of the thin bamboo sticks I had seen Richard's mother use for flower arrangements.
Laura jumped up. "Grace! What are you doing? Emma has already apologized! You're not seriously going to use corporal punishment on a child, are you?"
I brought the bamboo stick down hard on Emma's palm. She screamed, more from shock than pain.
"Grace!" Laura rushed forward. "Stop this immediately! She's just a little girl. This is barbaric! She's already apologized, how can you be so violent?"
I met Laura's panicked eyes with cold precision. "Ms. Parker, Emma is my daughter. As her mother, I have the right to discipline her. You seem overly protective of her... almost as if she were your daughter?"
Laura went pale, involuntarily taking a step back. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.
"Small errors, if not corrected, become big errors," I continued calmly. "Unlike you, I don't have a degree in childhood education. I find that sometimes, when gentle methods fail, traditional ones are most effective."
Richard finally intervened, his face a mixture of shock and calculation. "Enough. She's learned her lesson."
I set down the bamboo stick and stepped back. Emma immediately ran to Laura, burying her tear-streaked face against her legs.
"Emma Harrison," I said, though I was smiling, my voice was deadly serious. "Remember this: as long as I'm your mother, you will respect me. If you don't learn to respect your elders, this bamboo stick won't stay in the vase."
The little girl fell silent, her sobs turning to hiccups as she stared at me with a mixture of fear and hatred.
Richard looked at me as though I were a stranger. I turned and left the dining room without another word.
"Richard..." Laura's calculatedly pitiful voice came from behind me.
He hesitated, torn between following me and comforting her.
I didn't need to look back to know the truth. Richard and Laura were the real couple—had been for six years.