Chapter 13
Richard's POV
The Harrison estate was quiet when we arrived, the rain having subsided to a gentle patter. I carried Laura through the front door, nodding curtly to our night security guard.
In the marble entrance hall, I froze. A pair of red-soled heels—Grace's favorite—sat neatly on the shoe rack. My heart rate inexplicably accelerated.
"Take her to the guest bedroom on the first floor," I told Stella in a hushed voice. "The blue room. Quietly."
"Why are we whispering?" Stella asked, lowering her voice too.
"Just... please. I don't want to disturb anyone."
The truth was, I didn't want a confrontation with Grace. Not with a drunk Laura in my arms. Not with Stella here as witness. The thought of Grace's cool, assessing gaze taking in this scene made me anxious in a way I couldn't explain.
As Stella helped Laura toward the guest room, small footsteps pattered down the grand staircase. Emma appeared in her pink pajamas, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
"Daddy?" she called, then spotted Laura leaning on Stella. Her face lit up. "Mommy! What's wrong with Mommy?"
I moved with lightning speed, clamping my hand over her mouth and dropping to her level. "Emma," I hissed, voice barely audible. "Shut up! How many times have I explained the rules to you?"
"In this house, when other people are around," I couldn't bring myself to say Grace's name, "you can't call Laura 'Mommy.' Your mother is Grace. Do you understand? This is not a game!"
Emma's lower lip trembled. "I hate Grace! She's the bad lady who stole you from Mommy!"
Emma ran to her room, wiping her tears.
"Take her to the room," I urged Stella. "I'll handle Emma."
After calming my daughter with promises of pancakes for breakfast and a new doll, I returned to the room. Stella had removed Laura's soiled dress and gotten her into bed.
"She threw up," Stella informed me flatly. "Twice. I cleaned it up."
"Thank you," I said, genuinely grateful.
"Don't thank me. I didn't do it for you." She gathered her purse. "I've called a cab. She'll need water and aspirin in the morning."
After Stella left, I sat on the edge of Laura's bed, watching her restless sleep. Despite Stella's cleanup efforts, the sour smell of vomit lingered. Once, I'd found everything about Laura enchanting. Now, I found myself missing the clean, subtle scent of Grace's perfume.
I shook my head, disturbed by my own thoughts. What was wrong with me? Laura was my wife, the mother of my child, the woman who'd saved my life. Grace was... a business arrangement. A temporary solution.
---
Morning light filtered through the guest room curtains when I woke, disoriented and stiff from sleeping in my clothes. Laura was still asleep, her face pale against the pillows. I slipped out quietly, heading upstairs to shower and change.
After showering and dressing, I headed to the dining room, half-expecting to see Grace sipping her morning coffee, reviewing financial reports as she often did before heading to the office.
The dining room was empty except for our housekeeper setting out breakfast.
"Good morning, Mr. Harrison," she said. "Will you be dining alone today?"
I frowned, looking around. "Where's Mrs. Harrison?"
"I haven't seen her this morning, sir."
A flicker of concern rose in my chest. "Is she still upstairs? Still sleeping?"
The housekeeper's expression turned uncertain. "Sir... Mrs. Harrison isn't in the master suite."
"What do you mean?"
She shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, Mrs. Harrison hasn't returned to the estate since she left several days ago. "
The words hit me like a physical blow. I stared at her, unable to process what she was saying. "That's impossible. I saw her shoes last night. The red-bottomed ones."
"Those have been there since before she left, sir. She has several pairs."
Just as I was about to ask her about the specific situation, my phone rang with a shrill tone. The Harrison Group's Sales Manager calling at this hour was unusual.
"What is it?" I answered curtly.
"Sir, we have a situation," his voice trembled slightly. "The Aurora fragrance project... they just called. They're pulling out."
I set down my fork. "What? They can't do that. The contracts are signed."
"They're citing the quality assurance clause. They say..." Ryan hesitated. "They say they haven't received final approval from 'G'."
G. Grace's professional signature on her formulations. A single letter that carried weight throughout the industry.
"Put them on the line," I demanded.
Minutes later, the accented voice filled my ear. "Mr. Harrison, I apologize, but our position is clear. We partnered with Harrison Group because of 'G's' reputation. Her soul is in these scents. Without her signature guaranteeing quality control, your company is merely an empty vessel."
Laura appeared at the doorway, catching the tail end of the conversation. As I disconnected, she slid into the chair beside me.
"What's wrong?" she asked, reaching for the orange juice.
"The Aurora project is suspended. They're demanding Grace's approval on the formula."
Laura rolled her eyes, voice dripping with disdain. "She's just a perfumer, Richard. We can find a dozen better ones."
I stared at her, a cold realization washing over me. "No, we can't. Not according to the market." I pushed back from the table, mind racing. "Aurora represents thirty percent of our projected IPO valuation."
I grabbed my coat and immediately headed for the company. At the same time, an undeniable thought crossed my mind: "Grace is the cornerstone of my company's future."