Chapter 163
Grace's POV
Alex's roar of rage was inhuman, primal. I heard chairs scraping, Daisy screaming, Eleanor crying out my name.
Through my blurred vision, I saw Alex lunge toward his father, his face twisted with fury I'd never seen before. His eyes were wild, dangerous—like something fundamental had finally snapped inside him.
"Alex, no!" I gasped, struggling to sit up.
But he was beyond hearing. Beyond reason. He grabbed a steak knife from the table, his knuckles white around the handle.
"You want to hit someone?" Alex's voice was barely recognizable. "Try me."
Leon's face went pale, but his chin lifted defiantly. "Go ahead. Prove what I've always known—that you're nothing but a violent animal, just like your mother."
The words hit Alex like physical blows. His grip on the knife tightened until I was afraid he might draw blood from his own palm.
"Alex," I whispered, my voice shaking. "Please."
But Leon wasn't finished destroying his son.
"What would your mother think?" he sneered. "Seeing her precious boy threatening his own father? You're a disgrace to her memory."
Alex's control finally shattered completely. He raised the knife, his face contorted with twenty-plus years of suppressed rage and pain.
Leon stepped forward, grabbing Alex's wrist. "Do it then. Show everyone what you really are."
The knife trembled between them, its point inches from Leon's throat. Everyone was screaming now—Daisy, Eleanor, Ethan—but their voices seemed to come from very far away.
Time slowed to a crawl. I watched in horror as Alex's muscles tensed, as the blade began its deadly arc downward.
I rushed forward, my hand closing around the sharp steel, stopping it just short of Leon's skin.
Blood welled between my fingers as the knife bit deep, but I held on tight.
"Stop," I whispered. "Please, Alex. Stop."
The knife trembled in Alex's grip, its point mere inches from Leon's throat. Blood welled between my fingers where the blade bit deep, but I held on tight.
But something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
Alex's eyes had gone completely vacant, unfocused, like he was staring through Leon rather than at him. The rage that had consumed him moments before seemed to evaporate, replaced by something far more terrifying—complete disconnection from reality.
"Alex?" I called softly, my voice shaking. Blood from my palm dripped steadily onto the dining room floor, each drop echoing in the sudden silence. "Alex, what's wrong?"
He didn't respond. Didn't even blink. The knife continued its slow, inexorable movement forward, as if guided by some invisible force beyond his control.
"Alex!" Daisy screamed from across the room. "Alex, stop!"
Eleanor's voice joined hers, high and desperate. "Alex, please! Come back to us!"
Ethan's cane hit the floor with a sharp crack. "Son, listen to my voice!"
But their cries seemed to bounce off him like he was made of stone. His breathing had become shallow, mechanical. Whatever had triggered this—Leon's cruelty, the violence, the mention of his mother—had pushed him somewhere beyond reach.
I watched in growing horror as the knife crept closer to Leon's neck. Leon himself had gone pale, his earlier bravado crumbling as he realized his son wasn't just angry anymore. This was something else entirely. Something broken.
He's not here, I realized with ice-cold clarity. He's completely gone.
The blade was now less than an inch from Leon's throat. In seconds, it would pierce skin.
I made a decision that defied every survival instinct I possessed.
Slowly, deliberately, I released my grip on the knife and stepped forward, positioning my throat directly in line with its path.
"Alex," I said quietly, my voice steady despite the terror coursing through me. "I'm here. I'm right here."
The knife continued its deadly arc. I could feel the cold metal brush against my neck, could sense death hovering just millimeters away. Behind me, I heard Daisy's strangled sob, Eleanor's sharp intake of breath.
But I didn't move. Didn't flinch.
"I love you," I whispered to the empty shell of the man I'd married. "Come back to me."
For one heart-stopping moment, the blade pressed against my throat.
Then, like a switch being flipped, clarity flashed through Alex's eyes.
The knife clattered to the floor with a metallic crash that seemed to echo forever.
Alex's body swayed, his legs giving out as the full weight of what had almost happened crashed over him. I caught him with my uninjured arm, pulling him against me as he collapsed.
"You're all insane!" Leon's voice cracked like a whip across the room. His face was purple with rage and something that might have been fear. "Absolutely fucking insane! I was right about him all along!"
He stormed toward the door, his expensive shoes crunching over broken ceramic. "He's a goddamn psychopath!"
The front door slammed with enough force to rattle the windows.
Daisy's hands shook as she fumbled for her phone, calling their private physician. Ethan barked orders at the household staff, who appeared with medical supplies and began cleaning up the blood and debris.
A maid approached with gauze and antiseptic, quickly bandaging my palm while another cleaned the blood from the floor. Through it all, Alex remained motionless in my arms, his breathing ragged.
Eleanor caught my eye and nodded toward the others. Without a word, she began ushering everyone out of the dining room, giving us space.
When we were finally alone, I used my good hand to stroke his rigid back.
"It's okay," I murmured. "Everyone's gone. It's over."
Alex's shoulders began to shake. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were red-rimmed, like he was bleeding from the inside.
"Grace..." His voice was barely a whisper, raw and broken. "Grace?"
He stared at my bandaged hand like it was a weapon pointed at his heart. His fingers trembled as he reached out to touch the white gauze.
"Does it hurt?" The question came out strangled, desperate.
I managed a small smile. "Cuts heal fast. It's the heart wounds that take time."
Alex's face crumpled. "Are you afraid of me?"
The question hung between us like a blade.