Chapter 57 Grace's Regret for Being Back
In the quiet office, Dylan's slim hand, sporting a gold watch, held a sleek platinum business card with his contact info.
Grace took the card gently. After a long pause, she finally asked softly, "Why are you helping me? I thought you'd side with Henry."
Dylan stayed silent, leaning back and taking a slow drag from his cigar. Even he wasn't sure why he was helping her.
But deep down, he remembered seeing the scars on Grace's wrist in the hospital. They reminded him of his mother's scars from years ago.
The difference was, his mother wanted to die, but Grace wanted to live. Maybe that sparked some sympathy in him.
As Grace left, she gripped the card tightly, her palm almost sweating.
With Henry, she appeared glamorous, but behind the scenes, things were tumultuous. She rarely thought about leaving Henry because she was too scared, but now she saw a glimmer of hope.
The elevator reached the first floor. As she walked through the revolving door, she unexpectedly saw Lucas. They were separated by glass, heading in opposite directions—one leaving, one entering.
Grace still held the card. She knew Lucas liked her, but she could only disappoint him. Not because she was Henry's wife, but because it was too late.
Lucas never said he liked her, and she never rejected him.
The door kept revolving, light and shadow playing on their faces.
Grace gave Lucas a faint smile filled with gratitude and a hint of regret. She thought if it weren't for Henry, she could at least be friends with Lucas, visit his mother Heather Butler, and cook with her. Both she and Lucas were such warm people!
However, life was complicated; he wanted to save her, and she wanted to protect him.
A black car was parked outside the law firm, its window half-lowered.
Henry sat inside, watching Grace look at Lucas. The disappointment and regret in her eyes felt like a knife to his heart.
Grace had feelings for someone else, and that made him uncomfortable.
Henry thought back; when was the last time she looked at him like that? Two years ago, or three?
The driver was scared, thinking Henry would explode or at least take Grace away. But Henry just said calmly, "Back to the office. Don't tell Mrs. Montague about today."
The driver stepped on the gas, and the black car slowly drove away.
Henry lounged in the back seat, a sunbeam highlighting his chiseled features.
His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts about Grace and her emotions. He remembered her past affection for him and her words, "Adult marriages don't need love, just mutual gains."
At first, he agreed. He made sacrifices to win her back, thinking desire and a trophy wife were enough. But as he sat there in the sunlight, he realized he wanted more than superficial benefits.
He wanted Grace herself. He wanted her to love him back.
Henry knew money couldn't buy feelings. If it could, they wouldn't be in this mess. He had never loved anyone, but that didn't mean he couldn't manage feelings.
As Henry sat quietly in the car, he thought maybe showing real emotions could bring back Grace's love. He was ready to try being a genuinely affectionate couple.
Sunday evening.
The black car silently returned to the villa. The driver got out to grab Henry's suitcase and asked, "Mr. Montague, need help with your luggage?"
Henry, dressed in black, looked striking in the twilight. Even the older servants couldn't help but glance at him. He asked calmly, "Where's Mrs. Montague?"
Before the servant could answer, the sound of a violin drifted from the third floor. The melody was gentle, rendered even more beautiful by the twilight.
The servant couldn't help but praise, "Mrs. Montague plays beautifully! Would you like to listen?"
With a soft chuckle, Henry carried his suitcase upstairs, pushed open the study door, and there she was—Grace, in a sleek gray dress, her golden hair cascading down her back. She looked stunning.
He watched her quietly for a moment, then set down his suitcase and walked over. He hugged her from behind, resting his face on her shoulder, his voice unusually gentle. "The dress looks nice," he said.
Startled by his sudden embrace, Grace almost dropped her violin.
Before she could react, he gently held her waist, feeling its softness. With his other hand, he took her violin and set it aside, then pressed her against the window, his blue eyes gazing at her.
Outside, the sycamore trees were a sea of gold. Inside, the lights were soft.
They hadn't seen each other for a week, and now it felt like a long-awaited reunion.
Henry kissed her, sometimes light, sometimes slow, sometimes heavy. He kissed her for a long time before stopping, murmuring against her lips, "Mrs. Montague, you seem to have been doing well these days."
Grace looked up, confused by Henry's sudden actions, wondering what was going on in his mind.
Just as she was about to speak, he kissed her again, this time more passionately, pressing her against him, stumbling onto the sofa.
He didn't undress her, gently touching her waist, asking if it was okay. He said he wanted to make love before dinner.
As Henry's face pressed against her neck, his warmth sent a shiver down Grace's spine. His scent enveloped her, igniting a mix of desire and apprehension. Memories of their past encounters lingered, casting a shadow over the moment.
Though conflicted, Grace knew resisting Henry would complicate things. She decided to navigate the situation mindfully. Not wanting to dampen the mood with past grievances, she gently kissed his chin and softly asked, "Can we pause for a moment?"
Henry's blue eyes were deep. He touched her waist again, addicted to the feel of it.
Grace got up, straightened her dress, and walked out.
Henry sat up, took off his coat, and was about to light a cigarette to ease the tension. Grace walked back in, holding a small box.
With a cigarette dangling from his lips, Henry's piercing blue eyes bore into her as she knelt before him, fumbling with the box. In a moment of unexpected boldness, he seized her hand and, in a low, questioning tone, asked, "You want me to wear this because you think I'm dirty?"