Chapter 149
Grace's POV
Outside Meridian Bar
I pulled out my phone and typed quickly: Going out with Sophia for a drink. Will be home later.
Alex's response came within seconds: Good. You need to relax. Be safe.
The immediate reply should have been comforting, but instead, it made my chest tight with guilt. Here I was, doubting him based on a few words spoken in sleep, while he was being nothing but supportive and caring.
I slipped my phone back into my purse, forcing a smile for Sophia. "Ready?"
As we walked toward the upscale bar she'd chosen, I tried to push down the knot of anxiety in my stomach. I needed to get my emotions under control before I went home to Alex. The last thing I wanted was for him to sense something was wrong and start asking questions I wasn't ready to answer.
---
Richard's POV
Cigar smoke curled around me in the cool night air as I stood outside Meridian, one of Starport's most exclusive establishments. Inside, ten of my former classmates were enjoying their second venue of the evening—a reunion dinner that had evolved into drinks and reminiscing.
I took another drag, letting the tobacco calm my nerves. The conversation inside had been pleasant enough, but I needed air. Space to think.
"Richard!" David appeared beside me, slightly unsteady from alcohol. "Taking a break from the festivities?"
"Just getting some air." I offered him a cigar, which he declined with a wave.
"Actually," I said carefully, "Grace and I have been having some... communication issues lately. Nothing serious," I added quickly, seeing David's concerned expression. "Just the usual married couple stuff. But if Sarah wanted to reach out directly, it might help. Sometimes it's easier to talk to old friends, you know?"
David nodded sympathetically. "I completely understand. Marriage can be challenging. Sarah and I went through a rough patch ourselves a few years back."
"I think she'd appreciate hearing from Sarah."
As I scrolled through my phone to find Grace's number, I felt a flicker of something—hope, maybe, or desperation. This was my chance to reach her through people she trusted, people who had fond memories of her from before everything went wrong between us.
David programmed the number into his phone with the careful precision of someone who'd had just enough to drink.
"Thanks, Richard. This means a lot." He clapped me on the shoulder. "Come on, let's get back inside. They're telling that story about Professor Williams again."
The moment we returned to the bar, a familiar figure came into view.
---
Grace's POV
I pushed open the restroom door, adjusting my purse strap when a familiar figure blocked my path. My heart sank.
"Grace."
Richard stood in the narrow hallway, his usually perfect hair disheveled, his eyes wild with something I couldn't quite describe. Desperation? Madness?
"Get out of my way, Richard." I tried to step around him, but he blocked me again.
"Grace, I know you hate me, but I can't stop thinking about you." His voice trembled. "I've filed for divorce from Laura. We can start over. We can—"
The audacity of his words hit me like a blow. He actually wanted to start over?
My hand moved faster than my brain. The slap echoed through the hallway like a gunshot.
"Are you insane?" I hissed, my palm stinging. "Six years of deception wasn't enough?"
Richard's cheek flushed red, but he didn't back down. Instead, he stepped closer. "Grace, please. I know I hurt you, but what we had was real. It was always real."
"Everything between us was a lie." I tried to push past him again, but his hand shot out, gripping my wrist.
"Don't touch me." My voice turned ice-cold.
I wrenched my wrist free and strode toward the central area of the bar, Richard following like a lost puppy. The conversations around us died as heads turned, sensing drama.
I spun around in the crowded center, my voice carrying clearly across the room. "Richard Harrison, you used a fake marriage certificate to deceive me for six years! You're a lying, selfish, pathetic fraud!"
The silence was deafening. Then the whispers started—a ripple of shock spreading through the room. I saw phones being raised, recording. Good. Let the whole world know what kind of man Richard Harrison really was.
"Grace, stop," Richard pleaded, his face pale. "You're making a scene."
"I'm telling the truth." I laughed bitterly.
The murmurs grew louder. I heard fragments: "Harrison Group CEO..." "Fake marriage..." "Scandal..."
Richard's carefully constructed world was crumbling in real time, and I felt nothing but cold satisfaction.
But then his expression shifted. The pleading look vanished, replaced by something darker, more desperate. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the recording phones, the shocked faces, the whispers that would destroy him.
"Grace, please," he reached for me again, his movements becoming erratic. "Let me explain—"
"Stop talking." I stepped back, but he kept advancing.
I could see something inside him snap—the moment when desperation overwhelmed reason, when public humiliation became unbearable.
"I need you to understand that you still love me!" he shouted hysterically, his voice cracking with emotion. "We can't really be over!"
Before I could react, he lunged forward, grabbing my shoulders. His grip was painful, desperate, and when he tried to force a kiss on me, panic shot through me.
"Let go of me!" I pushed against his chest, but he was stronger, gripping tighter.
Chaos erupted around us. I heard the security guard pushing through the crowd.