Chapter 44 She Finally Became Mrs. Montague Again
Henry held Grace close, speaking softly, a gesture she was still getting used to. She turned slightly and said, "Yeah, Dylan just left!"
She tried to keep tidying up, but Henry blocked her way. He gently held her waist, his touch lingering, not out of desire, but as if to pass the time.
Grace, who had been married to him for years, knew his ways. She let him touch her without resistance. Eventually, Henry stopped and asked, "What did you talk about?"
Grace replied indifferently, "Shares and the case."
Henry waited, but she didn't mention Felix or his advances. He looked at her for a long time.
Henry waited, but Grace didn't bring up Felix or his unwanted attention. Staring at her, he decided not to push it and smoothly changed the topic, "Oh, by the way, I had Celeste find an apartment. The area and setting are great! Perfect for your dad and Clara. Let's check it out tomorrow, okay?"
Despite Henry's thoughtful gestures, Grace remained unmoved. She knew his game. He gave up 2% of Montague Group's shares and invested $30 million to hire Dylan, all to make sure every penny was well spent. Grace knew he wanted her to play the role of a happy wife to boost his image.
Grace agreed with a detached tone, making Henry feel her coldness. He gently lifted her chin and kissed her. She let out a small sound, and he caressed her neck, whispering, "Mrs. Montague, I'll be waiting for you to come home tomorrow night!"
A shiver ran through Grace; she knew he wanted to make love to her tomorrow night.
Grace was discharged from the hospital, and Henry had a meeting to attend.
He sent Celeste to pick her up. While Celeste handled the discharge, Grace sat quietly in the hospital room. In front of her was an expensive outfit, a pure white Versace haute couture suit, a favorite among high-society ladies.
When Grace was Mrs. Montague before, her wardrobe was full of such clothes. Now, as she returned to being Mrs. Montague, she had to wear these luxurious clothes again and play the part.
Grace traced the luxurious fabric with her fingers, a hint of confusion on her face. But she quickly shrugged it off, slipped out of the hospital gown, and into the fancy outfit.
Celeste knocked and entered with the discharge papers. Without Henry around, she wasn't very polite. "Grace, we can go now!"
Grace turned to her, eyes steady. "Celeste, from now on, call me Mrs. Montague."
Celeste was stunned. She had been ready to mock Grace, thinking she was insignificant. But when their eyes met, she was taken aback.
Grace's features were the same, but her demeanor had changed. She radiated indifference, a cold aura replacing her familiar warmth.
Grace had put on a mask, the mask of Mrs. Montague.
Celeste, surprised, held back her sarcasm and switched to a professional tone. "Mrs. Montague, the apartment is ready. I'll take you there now. Mrs. Windsor should be there too."
Grace smiled faintly.
Thanks to Henry's arrangements, the move was smooth. The 2,300-square-foot apartment was spacious and comfortable.
As the movers left, Clara still looked uneasy. She pulled Grace aside, glancing at Celeste before asking, "Why did Henry's people handle this? Grace, be honest, are you..."
Grace knew she couldn't hide the truth anymore. She took a deep breath and said, "Yes, I went back to Henry. After everything, I realized it's easier to be Mrs. Montague. I was immature before and made you and Dad suffer."
Clara was overwhelmed, tears streaming down her face. Everything made sense now—Dylan's sudden return, Oliver's smooth situation—all because Grace had gone back to Henry.
Seeing Clara like this, Grace felt guilty. She hugged Clara and said softly, "I'll take care of myself. You take care of Dad."
Trying to lift the mood, Clara wiped her tears and smiled. "How about you stay for a meal? Let me cook for you. I'll quickly run out to get some groceries."
As Clara left, Grace stood by the window, staring at the scene below.
Grace watched Clara descend the stairs and sit by the roadside, tears streaming down her face. This raw emotion was new to Grace. Even when the Windsor family went bankrupt, Clara had kept her composure.
Celeste, standing behind her, asked softly, "Mrs. Montague, do you regret it?"
Grace lowered her eyes and, after a moment, smiled faintly. "No, I don't regret it. Never."
How could she regret it when she had no choice?
Grace stayed home for half a day and left in the afternoon with just a small suitcase.
As evening fell, the sky was painted with colorful clouds, the sunset glow stunning.
A luxurious black limo passed through the ornate gates, circled a few times, and stopped in the villa's parking lot.
Henry lingered in the twilight, opening the car door for Grace and calling her Mrs. Montague.
With a charming smile, he said, "The servants have prepared dinner. It looks great, and it would be perfect to open a bottle of red wine later!"
He was attentive, and Grace knew this was his novelty, even after three years of marriage.
Even though he had drained her countless nights, at this moment, Henry felt a sense of conquest. He had forced her back with his power. Any man would feel triumphant, and Grace knew he wanted more than just dinner.
She lowered her eyes and said indifferently, "Henry, we don't have to do this."
"Don't have to do what?" Henry suddenly pinned her against the car.
The driver left, leaving the large courtyard with just the two of them, their bodies pressed tightly together. Through the thin fabric, she could feel his desire.
The sunset glow on Grace's face made her look exceptionally beautiful. Henry gently held the back of her head.
He leaned close, his voice soft. "Mrs. Montague, what kind of couple do you plan to be with me this time? Pretend to be loving in public and cold in private?"
Grace turned her face away, distressed. "Henry, you wanted me back, and I came back. What more do you want?"
Henry stared at her with blue eyes. After a while, he let go and sneered, "What do I like? Mrs. Montague, don't you know?"
Grace had just returned, and the mood was already somber. As they sat down for dinner, the anticipated pleasant atmosphere was absent, leaving unease in the air. Henry neglected the once-promising bottle of red wine.
After dinner, Henry went straight to the study to work. The household staff, concerned about Grace, whispered advice, "Men often appreciate obedience in women. Mrs. Montague, if you align with Mr. Montague a bit, life may become more manageable."
Grace's expression remained stoic as she uncorked the red wine, filling her glass halfway and taking a delicate sip. After a moment, a subtle smile played on her lips. "I've tried going along with him before, and it didn't necessarily lead to a better life."
The servant dared not say more.
Grace sipped half a glass and then went upstairs. Walking into the master bedroom, she quietly observed. Everything was as it used to be.
This was once the place she desperately wanted to escape from, and now she was back. For the rest of her life, maybe five years, maybe ten. As long as Henry didn't say it was over, she could never leave.
Grace didn't stay sad for long. Determined to face the night ahead, she went to the dressing room, selected a plush bathrobe, and sank into the warmth of the tub. Anticipating the challenging evening with Henry, she hoped that easing the tension in her body would help with their inevitable confrontation.
After soaking for about half an hour, Grace felt completely relaxed. She dried her hair, tied the bathrobe belt, and walked out.
Unexpectedly, Henry was already in the bedroom. He had taken a shower in the guest room and was now wearing a white bathrobe. He was leaning against the headboard, reading a magazine. The bedroom was lit only by a reading lamp, a signal from him.
Tonight, he wanted to make love.
Grace looked at him for a moment, then walked to the vanity and sat down, slowly and meticulously applying skincare products. Henry waited patiently.
When she finished, Henry put down the magazine, walked over, and hugged her from behind, gently massaging her. His movements were gentle but irresistible.
Grace couldn't help herself. She leaned her head back slightly, her slender throat taut, looking extremely vulnerable.
Henry gently nibbled the soft flesh behind her ear, his voice carrying a hint of mischief. "Where do you want to make love?"
Grace wrapped her arms around his neck. She trembled slightly and whispered, "On the bed."
Henry chuckled lightly, scooped her up, and kissed her as he walked. He carried her to the bed.
Henry propped himself up with one hand, holding her and kissing her with the other. As their bodies ignited with passion, he impatiently pulled off her bathrobe belt and eagerly joined with her.