Chapter 180
Grace's POV
Alex wraps his arm around me protectively, then turns back to address Aria. "Do you know what true compatibility really means? It's not about matching social status or family background. It's about matching abilities, character, values... it's about souls that recognize and appreciate each other."
His voice carries absolute conviction. "Even if Grace weren't a Wilson, I would still be drawn to her. I would still treasure and cherish her as the most precious thing in the world."
Then his tone shifts, becoming dangerously cold. "My wife has already shown your family more mercy than you deserve. But I won't."
The temperature seems to drop ten degrees.
"Effective immediately, Harrison family members will be blacklisted by the Starport Business Council," he announces. "As long as Morgan International exists, the Harrison family will never have another day of prosperity."
It's over. Completely and utterly over.
Aria tries to speak, but only a strangled sound emerges. She watches helplessly as Alex and I turn our backs and walk away. Behind us, I hear a sharp gasp, then the sound of a body hitting the pavement.
"Call an ambulance!" someone shouts.
From our bedroom window, I watch the emergency vehicle's flashing lights disappear into the distance. My brow furrows with an emotion I don't want to examine too closely.
"Having second thoughts?" Alex asks, his arms encircling me from behind.
"She has a heart condition," I murmur. "This might have been too much for her."
"Even if something happens to her, don't blame yourself," Alex says, his voice eerily calm. "I'm the one who pushed her over the edge. People who hurt you like that... they deserve whatever they get."
A chill runs down my spine at how casually he says it. This is a side of Alex I rarely see - the part of him that becomes coldly ruthless when I'm threatened.
"Don't talk like that," I whisper, turning in his arms. "We don't need to deal with these people anymore. I just need you to be safe and well."
Sometimes I think the normally controlled and gentle Alex becomes somewhat obsessive when it comes to me.
"Alright, I'll listen to you," Alex pulls back slightly to look at me, his blue eyes particularly intense in the dim light. "Whatever happens, I'll be right here with you."
This simple promise breaks something loose in my chest. When he holds me like this, even the deepest night doesn't feel so frightening.
---
Richard's POV
I stare at the ceiling of my empty house when my phone buzzes, my mother's name flashing on the screen, and a chill settles in my stomach.
"Richard, you need to get to the hospital immediately." Her voice is hoarse and broken. "It's Grandmother. Her heart—"
The phone slips from my hand as I bolt upright. Within minutes I'm dressed and in the car, my hands trembling as I grip the steering wheel. The streets blur past in a haze of streetlights and panic. She was fine this morning.
The hospital's fluorescent lights are harsh after the darkness outside. I find my mother in the ICU waiting area. "Where is Grandmother?" I ask urgently.
Margaret looks at me with hollow eyes. "Room 314. The doctors... Richard, they don't know if she's going to make it."
The ICU is a maze of beeping machines and antiseptic smells. I find Aria in room 314, looking impossibly small beneath the tangle of wires and tubes. An oxygen mask covers half her face, and the steady rhythm of the heart monitor is the only sound in the room. This isn't real. This morning she was still lecturing me about my self-destruction.
"The doctor said it was brought on by extreme emotional distress," Margaret says quietly from the chair beside the bed. "Her heart couldn't take it."
A doctor appears in the doorway—young, tired, with professional sympathy. I intercept him before he can leave. "Doctor, I need to know exactly what happened."
He glances at his chart. "Acute myocardial infarction triggered by severe emotional shock. Her blood pressure spiked dramatically." He hurries away, already moving on to the next crisis.
After the medical staff clears out, Margaret gestures for the others to leave. I approach the bed slowly, kneeling beside it. "Grandmother, I'm here," I whisper, but she doesn't respond. Her eyes remain closed, breathing shallowly through the oxygen mask. Only the steady beep of monitors fills the silence.
"Why?" I turn to Margaret. "She was fine this morning. What changed?"
Margaret's face crumples. "It was Grace. She went to see Grace today. She was angry about everything. She wanted to defend you, Richard. She went there to fight for you."
God. What did Grace do to her? My legs nearly give out. The exhaustion, the stress—it all hits me at once. "I need to find Grace."
"Richard, wait." Margaret's voice stops me cold. "You need to know something else. Do you know who Grace really is? Do you know who she married?"
My heart starts pounding. "What are you talking about?"
Margaret reaches for her phone with trembling fingers. "Grace Wilson. She's not just some lucky orphan, Richard. She's the sole heir to Wilson Holdings. She's Robert Wilson's daughter. And her husband? Alex Morgan? He's the CEO of Morgan International."
She holds out her phone, and the headline reads: "Wilson Holdings Heiress Returns to Family Legacy." There, in a photo that makes my world collapse entirely, is Grace. My Grace. Looking every inch the billionaire heiress she apparently is.
This can't be real. I stare at the screen until my eyes burn. She knew. The realization crashes over me like a wave. She knew exactly who she was when she moved out. When she left me. When she took control of my company.
All this time, I thought she was bluffing. I thought her threats were empty, that she was just a wounded woman trying to hurt me the only way she could. But she wasn't some helpless victim I could manipulate back into submission. She was playing a game I didn't even know existed.
The memories flood back with sickening clarity. Grace, quietly moving out while I was distracted with Laura and Emma. Grace, demanding fifty percent of my company like she had every right to it. All those times she accused me of lying, of betraying her trust—she was doing the exact same thing. Hiding her true identity, her real wealth, her actual power.
She played me. These past months were her revenge against me.
I leaned back in my chair, feeling like I was drowning. Everything I thought I knew about my life, about my marriage, about Grace herself—it was a lie. But not the kind of lie I was used to telling. This was a lie told by someone smarter than me, someone playing a longer game than I'd ever imagined possible.
"She never loved me," I said, the words tasting like ash.
The monitor beside Grandmother's bed started beeping faster, more urgently. Nurses rushed in, pushing us aside as they worked over her failing body.
At 3:17 AM, Aria Harrison died without ever waking up.