Chapter 10
Grace's POV
As I hung up the phone, the corners of my mouth began to curve upward.
The address I gave him was random. In reality, I was having dinner with Charles.
"So," Charles said, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Richard is giving you trouble again?"
I nodded, placing my phone face down on the table. "He seems very unhappy that I didn't act as a servant for his brother tonight."
Charles chuckled, a low, dry sound. "You know, this just proves what I told you. The Harrisons... they don't see you as a wife. They don't even see you as a partner. They only see cheap labor. A glorified housekeeper who just happens to help them balance their books."
"I know," I said, the bitterness in my mouth tasting metallic. "I was blind for two years, Uncle Charles. I'm not blind anymore."
Charles leaned forward, his expression turning serious. "Good. Because you need that clarity. The Wilson Family Foundation Annual Gala is coming up. It will be the perfect stage for your debut."
I nodded, already planning tomorrow in my head.
"Is it going well with Alex?" Charles asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"We've met once, and things went fairly well," I said with an awkward smile.
---
Richard's POV
I navigated through the evening traffic, heading toward Fifth Avenue. The address Grace had given me led to a high-end shopping district—lined with luxury boutiques, but devoid of any restaurants suitable for client meetings.
I parked the car and waited. I sent a text but got no reply. Perhaps their meeting hadn't ended yet.
Exhaustion weighed heavily on me. It had been non-stop today—accompanying Laura to the doctor, handling work remotely, and now this situation with Grace.
I leaned back in the seat, reconsidering my approach. After all, Grace worked hard for the Harrison Group. The rejection from the Morgan project had hit us hard, and she had been staying up late looking for alternative partners. Maybe I was being too harsh.
My mother and Jason could be difficult. Grace was right to prioritize saving our company over making pasta. When she arrived, I would apologize.
As I waited, my eyelids grew heavy...
---
The shrill ringing of my phone startled me awake. The clock on the dashboard read 1:13 AM. I fumbled for my phone, still groggy.
"Richard?" Laura's voice was tense. "Why aren't you back yet? Did something happen?"
I blinked rapidly, looking around. I was still parked on Fifth Avenue. Grace had never appeared.
"Richard? Are you listening?" Laura's voice came again.
"Yes, sorry. Just finishing up some work," I said, rubbing my face to clear the fog from my mind. "I'll be home soon."
I started the car, checking my phone again for messages from Grace. Nothing. I dialed her number—it went straight to voicemail.
The realization hit me: I had been stood up. Grace had made me wait in an empty shopping district for hours while she was... where exactly?
As I pulled away from the curb, my concern shifted into anger.
---
I stormed through the front door and headed straight for Grace's bedroom. Before I could reach it, Laura appeared in the hallway, her blonde hair loose over her shoulders.
"Richard, what are you doing?" she asked, standing between me and Grace's door. "That's Grace's room!"
Her words snapped me back to reality. 3:00 AM was not the time for family drama, but I would demand an explanation tomorrow.
"Come," Laura whispered softly, guiding me toward our bedroom. "Tell me what happened."
Sitting on the edge of our bed, I recounted everything: Mother's theatrics, Jason's complaints, and Grace's unprecedented defiance.
"She's never done this before," I admitted, running a hand through my hair. "I feel... I don't know, caught off guard."
Laura sat beside me, her expression thoughtful. "Women get arrogant when they are spoiled. You've been too good to Grace."
"She's not that kind of person," I insisted.
Laura studied my face, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Richard... you haven't actually fallen in love with Grace, have you?"
I looked at her sharply. "If I had feelings for her, would I have married you and had Emma?"
The question hung in the air between us, unanswered.
---
The next morning, I stood in front of Grace's door again. Just as I was about to enter, my phone rang. Grace's name flashed on the screen.
"You didn't come home last night?"
"Good morning." Her voice was infuriatingly calm. "I stayed at a hotel. After a long meeting yesterday, I needed some peace."
"We need to talk about yesterday."
"Actually, I want to take a few days off," she said.
"What? Now?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "The company just lost a multi-million dollar project. We need to make up for that revenue."
"Richard," she interrupted firmly. "I am exhausted. Your mother keeps calling, demanding I cook for Jason. Do you think that is reasonable while I am negotiating deals worth tens of millions?"
Her directness caught me off guard. This wasn't the submissive Grace I knew.
"Your mother says I'm disrespectful, and Jason says I'm 'putting on airs.' So here is the deal," she continued. "Either they apologize, or I will become the full-time housewife they want—and drop all company affairs."
I fell silent. More than half the credit for the company's growth belonged to Grace. If she resigned from all her positions, I couldn't imagine the loss it would bring to the company.
"Honey, Mom and Jason are just..."
She cut me off, her voice ice-cold. "Choose, Richard. Do you want me to continue helping you manage the company, or do you want a full-time housewife?"
The power dynamic between us had shifted irreversibly, and I was left speechless.