Chapter 164
Grace's POV
I studied his face—the man who'd just held a knife to his father's throat, who'd been ready to commit murder in front of his family. Who'd looked at me with empty eyes and nearly killed me without even knowing I was there.
The silence stretched between us like a chasm. I could hear my own heartbeat, could feel the throb of pain from my bandaged palm where I'd grabbed the blade.
"Leon was right," Alex said, his voice hollow and self-loathing. "I really am crazy."
The words hit me like physical blows. "Alex—"
"I'm sick, Grace." He couldn't meet my eyes. "I have... episodes. They can come back. The doctors call it a psychiatric condition."
My blood turned to ice. "What kind of condition?"
"The kind that made Violet leave." His laugh was bitter, broken. "She said she was the only one who could accept me as I am. Guess she was wrong about that too."
I remembered Violet's words: Only I can accept him as he is. At the time, I'd thought she was being possessive. Now I understood she'd been talking about this.
Alex pulled away from me, physically and emotionally, his expression becoming cold and distant. The transformation was startling—like watching a mask slide into place. "I planned to hide it from you. Forever, if I could."
The admission felt like a slap across the face. My cheeks burned with the sting of betrayal. "You were going to lie to me?"
"I was going to protect you." His voice had turned arctic, unfamiliar. "But since you know now... if you want out, I understand. I won't make you stay with someone like me."
The words were delivered with surgical precision, designed to cut deep. "I don't need your pity, Grace. I'm giving you a choice. We can end this now, before it gets worse."
Before it gets worse. The implication was clear—this wasn't a one-time breakdown. This was who he was. Who he might always be.
I stared at him, this man I'd married, this stranger wearing Alex's face. Was this what our marriage really was? A business arrangement with a damaged man who saw me as just another caretaker?
"I see," I said quietly.
Alex flinched like I'd struck him. "Grace—"
But I was already standing, moving toward the dining table to clear the remaining dishes. Anything to keep my hands busy, to avoid looking at him.
"Don't." Alex's voice was sharp. "Leave it. The staff will handle it."
I ignored him, reaching for a wine glass. He caught my wrist—gently, but firmly.
"I said leave it."
I pulled free and walked toward the bedroom without another word.
I closed the bedroom door and leaned against it, my heart hammering against my ribs. Through the wood, I could hear nothing—no footsteps, no movement. Just silence.
I lay awake all night, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment. The vacant look in his eyes. The knife at my throat. His cold offer to end our marriage.
Was any of it real? The thought circled my mind like a vulture. Or am I just another obligation to him? Another person to manage and protect until I become too much trouble?
At three in the morning, I heard the front door close softly.
I crept to the window and watched Alex's car disappear into the darkness.
My phone buzzed with a text from Lucas: Mr. Morgan isn't feeling well and didn't want to disturb you. He's gone back to the family estate. The doctor gave him a sedative—he's sleeping now.
I stared at the message until the words blurred. Then I set the phone aside and pulled my knees to my chest.
---
Lucas's POV
I set down my phone and rubbed my temples painfully.
What was giving me a headache wasn't the recent late nights at work—it was that I was really bad at lying.
Alex's body hadn't fully recovered yet. When he called me in the middle of the night to pick him up, I thought he wanted to go back to Grace's apartment.
Instead, he had me drive him to the apartment near the office.
We kept a standalone apartment near the office for Alex to rest between meetings or receive important clients. The decor was very minimalist—more like an extension of the company's front lobby—but it was cleaned daily, so everything was spotless and very comfortable.
During the drive, I kept trying to fish for information indirectly.
Each time the words came to my lips, I swallowed them back.
He simply instructed me to prepare some things. He would be staying there for the next few days.
Not going home. Not going back to Grace's either.
The entire drive he kept his eyes closed, emanating a suffocating aura of depression.
It wasn't until Grace's message came that my suspicions were confirmed.
They had fought.
I figured no couple could completely avoid arguments—not even Alex and Grace, this sickeningly sweet newlywed pair.
After settling him in, he dismissed me.
Before leaving, he instructed me: "Not a word."
I understood what he meant. Especially not to let Grace know.
And arguments always worried family members—they couldn't know either.
So when Grace's message came, I had no choice but to lie.
I deliberately emphasized that Alex wasn't feeling well, hoping this would prompt Grace to contact him directly.
But from her response, I had an ominous feeling—this wasn't an ordinary fight.