Chapter 142
Grace's POV
I stepped out of the bathroom, towel-drying my hair, and found Alex staring at his phone. His expression was unreadable, but something about the tension in his shoulders made me pause.
Photos. Him and Violet at the charity gala. The angle made them look... intimate. Close. Like they belonged together.
"Morgan Heir Spotted with Mystery Companion—Sources Hint at Romantic Reunion."
My chest tightened. Not jealousy. Something quieter. More complicated.
"Grace." Alex's voice was rough. "This is—"
"Tabloid garbage?" I sat beside him, keeping my tone light. "I've seen worse at Wilson Holdings. They love making up stories about powerful families."
He turned to me, eyes dark with something I couldn't quite read. Guilt? Frustration? "I wanted to protect you from this kind of attention. Instead, I'm the one bringing trouble to your door."
I took his hand, rubbing my thumb across his knuckles. "So, Mr. Morgan—are you hoping I'll throw a tantrum? Storm around demanding explanations?"
He let out a bitter laugh. "Part of me does. Because it would mean you care enough to be angry." He pulled me closer. "But I'm also terrified you'll misunderstand what happened."
I touched his face, feeling the tension there. "I do care, Alex. But..." I hesitated. "I saw these photos while you were in the hospital. I was terrified you'd never wake up. I had days to process these feelings."
His expression shifted. Softened.
"Fear has a way of putting things in perspective," I continued. "These photos? They're nothing compared to almost losing you."
Alex caught my hand, pressing it against his chest. I could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong. "You're too understanding. Too patient with me."
"Lucas already explained everything," I said softly. "Business obligations. Violet showing up uninvited. None of it was in your control."
"The most understanding woman in the world," he murmured, "and she's mine."
Heat crept into my cheeks. "Stop it."
"Never." He kissed my palm. "But I need to handle this. Permanently."
I frowned. "The PR team can manage it. Issue a statement, threaten legal action—"
"That's not enough." Alex reached for his phone. "If I don't shut this down completely, these stories will keep coming. Every time we appear in public together, every business dinner, every—"
"What are you doing?" I watched him open the camera app.
He took my left hand, adjusting the angle so our rings were both in frame. The engagement ring, the wedding band, the watch he'd given me—all the physical proof of our commitment clearly visible. He snapped several photos, his expression focused.
"Alex—"
"Trust me." He was already logging into something on his phone. "I should have done this weeks ago."
My stomach dropped when I saw the screen. Morgan International's official social media account. Millions of followers. Every post scrutinized by financial analysts and gossip columnists alike.
"Wait. That's too public. Too—"
He didn't hesitate. Uploaded the photo and typed: "Married. Do not disturb."
Then he tagged every single account that had posted those Violet photos.
"Alex!" I grabbed his arm. "You just—the whole world will—"
"Good." He set down the phone, looking satisfied. "Let them know."
I stared at him. "You realize this is going to explode in about five seconds, right?"
"Four seconds," he corrected, pulling me into his lap. "Three. Two..."
His phone started vibrating. Notifications flooded in. Comments, shares, news alerts.
I couldn't help but laugh. "You're insane."
"I'm yours." He kissed my temple. "And I'm done letting anyone question that."
---
Violet's POV
The buzzing woke me up.
I grabbed my phone, squinting at the screen.
A dozen missed calls.
Dozens of texts.
Hundreds of Instagram notifications.
What the hell?
I opened Instagram. My feed was full of the same image, shared and quoted and analyzed.
An official post from Morgan International.
Two hands. Wedding rings. That caption.
Married. Do not disturb.
I scrolled through the comments.
"OMG congratulations Mr. Morgan!"
"I KNEW IT! Those photos were just work!"
"Poor Violet Cooper lmaooo"
I clicked on the tagged accounts. All three had deleted their articles about me and Alex. Posted retractions. Apologies.
My DMs were a nightmare. Friends asking if I was okay. Reporters wanting statements. Strangers offering condolences like someone had died.
Someone did die, I thought bitterly. My last shred of hope.
I stared at the rings in the photo. Her rings. And his.
I turned off my phone.
Couldn't process. Couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.
I lay back down, staring at the ceiling. No tears. Just this hollow, suffocating emptiness in my chest.
The ceiling blurred above me. Still no tears. Just... nothing. The place that used to hold hope became a void.
---
Alex's POV
Grace left for Wilson Holdings around nine the next morning. Kissed me goodbye at the door, reminded me to take my medication, threatened bodily harm if I didn't rest.
I loved watching her give orders.
The apartment felt too quiet after she left. I tried to work—answering emails, reviewing quarterly reports, approving the merger Lucas had been pushing for weeks.
Around eleven, it buzzed.
Unknown number.
"How's your injury recovery? I'm leaving the country tomorrow. Can we meet tonight? Just to say goodbye properly."
I stared at the text. Didn't respond.
Another buzz. Same number.
"Alex, please. I'm not asking for much. Just one conversation."
I set the phone down. Picked up my tablet. Tried to read through Morgan International's board meeting minutes.
Buzz.
"You promised you'd never forget what the Cooper family did for you. I just want closure. But if you force me... I might need to share some things with Grace. About our past. I don't want to, Alex. But if you don't give me a choice, I will."
My hand tightened around the phone.
Of course she would. She's desperate.