Chapter 150
Grace's POV
The security guards swarmed Richard like a pack of wolves. Seven or eight of them formed a tight circle around him, their hands gripping his arms as he struggled desperately to reach me.
I watched this pathetic display with cold satisfaction, a cruel sense of fulfillment rising in my chest. I spoke, my voice cutting through the chaos like a blade of ice.
"Richard Harrison, I'm married now. Of course I don't love you anymore."
The words felt liberating as they left my lips. Around us, people whispered among themselves, phones raised to capture every moment of his humiliation. He looked like a desperate fool, flailing helplessly while the guards restrained him.
But Richard wasn't finished. His eyes were wild and unhinged as he shook his head frantically.
"No!" he screamed, his voice cracking with hysteria. "Impossible! You can't be married to someone!"
God, he's completely lost it.
I watched him continue his delusional rant.
"Even if you take revenge on me, I don't care!" His voice grew more frantic. "We can start over, Grace! We can fix this!"
Then he played his final, desperate card. "You promised me once that no matter what happened, you'd forgive me. You said you'd always stay by my side!"
Did I really say those things? The memory felt like it belonged to someone else entirely. That naive girl who believed in fairy tales and happy endings was dead.
I felt nothing. No anger, no sadness, not even pity. Just a hollow emptiness where my feelings for him used to be. This was what it felt like when love died completely—not with dramatic tears or screaming, but with quiet, absolute indifference.
I turned away from him without another word, my heels clicking against the ground. Behind me, I could hear the guards dragging him toward a private room, his voice calling my name growing more distant.
The distance between us felt infinite now. Not just physical, but emotional, spiritual. We existed in completely different worlds.
"Grace!"
I turned to see Sophia running toward me, her face flushed with concern. She reached out, her hands hovering over my arms as if checking for injuries.
"Are you hurt? Did he touch you?" Her voice was breathless with worry.
"I'm fine," I assured her. "Let's go back."
Her expression shifted, becoming more serious. "Alex was here just now. He came to pick you up, but..." She glanced back toward the bar entrance. "He saw what just happened."
My blood turned to ice. No.
I scanned the area desperately, looking for that familiar silhouette. Nothing.
"He just left. Grace, he looked..."
I didn't wait to hear more. I ran toward the parking area, my heels making it difficult to move quickly, but I didn't care. I had to find him.
The parking area was dimly lit, shadows stretching between the expensive cars. Then I saw him—a tall, solitary figure standing beside my car. Even in the darkness, I could recognize that silhouette anywhere.
Alex stood perfectly still, his hands in his pockets, staring out at the city lights. There was something lonely about the way he held himself, something that made my chest tighten.
I ran to him without hesitation, throwing myself into his arms. He caught me easily, his embrace solid and warm, but I could feel the tension in his muscles.
I pulled back to look at his face. In the dim light, his features were sharp and beautiful, but his eyes held a darkness that made me shiver.
"Alex, it wasn't—"
"I know it wasn't your fault," he interrupted, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. "But when I saw his hands on you..."
He didn't finish the sentence, but I could see the storm brewing behind his calm exterior. His jaw was clenched, and there was something predatory in the way he looked back toward the Bar.
He wanted to hurt Richard. Maybe he still does.
"I almost went back in there," he admitted, his voice low and rough. "I almost did something that would have made headlines for all the wrong reasons."
I reached up to touch his face, feeling the tension in his jaw. "But you didn't."
"No," he said, covering my hand with his. "Because I realized something. I can't keep letting my temper control me. Not if I want to build a life with you."
The vulnerability in his voice made my heart ache. This powerful man was trying so hard to be better, for me, for us.
"But I did make some calls," he added, his tone shifting to something colder. "Richard and his friends won't be leaving this Bar in the same condition they arrived."
"Alex," I said softly, "what happened tonight was completely random. I had no idea he would be here."
"I know." His arms tightened around me. "But that doesn't make it easier to watch."
He was quiet for a moment, then his voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "Tell me something, Grace. When he touched you tonight, where did his hands go?"
The question was asked so casually, but I could hear the edge beneath it. His hand slid from my face down to my waist, his fingers pressing against my ribs with just enough pressure to make his point.
"Nowhere that matters," I said quickly. "Alex, you can't seriously be jealous of Richard."
"Can't I?" His grip on my waist tightened, pulling me closer until there was no space between us. "I'm jealous of every second he had with you that I didn't. I'm jealous of every smile he saw, every laugh he heard."
His voice was getting rougher, more possessive. "I'm jealous, baby. So fucking jealous it's eating me alive. My chest feels like it's full of acid."
God, the way he calls me...
"Richard could never compare to you," I whispered, my hands fisting in his shirt. "Not in any way that matters."
"Say it again," he demanded, his breath hot against my ear.
"What?"
"Say you love me. Say it like you mean it."
My cheeks burned, but I met his intense gaze. "I love you, darling. Only you."
"Again."
"Darling," I breathed, my voice barely audible.
His eyes darkened with satisfaction. "Good girl."
Then he was kissing me, slow and deep and claiming. His mouth moved against mine with deliberate intensity, like he was trying to erase every trace of Richard's presence. I could taste the champagne I'd had earlier, could feel the way my head spun from the alcohol and his touch combined.