Chapter 181
Grace's POV
The buzzing of my phone cuts through the morning quiet like a blade. I fumble for it on the nightstand, squinting at the unknown number flashing on the screen.
"Aria Harrison passed away at 3:17 AM."
The words hit me like ice water.
Oh God. Yesterday's confrontation floods back—Aria's face twisted with rage, her voice shaking as she defended Richard, the way she'd stumbled when Alex delivered his final blow about the Harrison family's future. Was I the last straw? Did our words push her heart beyond what it could bear?
Alex stirs beside me, his arm tightening around my waist. "Grace?" His voice is rough with sleep, but I can hear the instant alertness underneath. He always knows when something's wrong.
I can't speak. Guilt crashes over me in waves.
"Hey." Alex sits up, pulling me against his chest. His hand strokes my back in slow, soothing circles. "Grace, talk to me. What happened?"
"She's dead," I whisper into his shoulder. "Aria Harrison. She died this morning."
Alex goes still for a moment, then his arms tighten around me. "Grace, listen to me. This isn't your fault. You didn't cause this."
But didn't I? I pull back to look at him, searching his face. "Alex, what if yesterday was too much for her? What if—"
"No." His voice is firm, his blue eyes steady on mine. "She made her choices, Grace. She came to our home to attack you, to defend the people who've hurt you for years. Her heart condition, her age, the stress she put herself under—none of that is on you."
I want to believe him, but my mind keeps replaying yesterday's scene. Aria's fury when Alex announced the Harrison family's business destruction. The way she'd gasped and clutched her chest as we walked away.
"She spent her whole life building that family's legacy," I murmur. "Everything she worked for, everything she believed in—we destroyed it in one conversation."
Alex cups my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Grace, she built that legacy on lies and cruelty. She enabled Richard's deception, supported his mother's abuse of you, and turned a blind eye to what you endured. Yesterday, she came to our home not to apologize or make amends, but to demand that you submit to more of the same."
His thumb brushes across my cheek.
"You showed her mercy by walking away," he continues. "I'm the one who delivered the killing blow. If anyone's responsible for pushing her too far, it's me."
But that's not how guilt works, is it? It doesn't care about logic or fairness. It just sits in your chest like a stone, making everything heavier.
"Come on," Alex says softly, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Let's get up. We need to face this day."
An hour later, we're both dressed and moving through our morning routine. Alex has changed into a deep navy velvet casual suit that makes his eyes look impossibly blue, paired with a precision steel sports watch that catches the light when he moves. The casual elegance suits him perfectly.
"You look incredible," I tell him, and his face lights up with genuine pleasure.
"Lucas had this made specially," he says, adjusting his cuffs with boyish enthusiasm. "He thought when we're not in full business mode, I needed more... approachable pieces." He pauses, studying me with that intense focus that still makes my heart skip. "We should get you some pieces from the same designer. Matching sets."
Despite everything weighing on my mind, I smile. "Couple's outfits? That's very... domestic of you, Mr. Morgan."
"I like domestic," he says simply. "I like the idea of people knowing we belong together."
The warmth in his voice almost makes me forget about the text message, about Aria, about the guilt gnawing at my insides. Almost.
"Grace." Alex's voice draws me back to reality. "I need to go to Aetheria. Business meetings."
I frown. "Alex, you're still recovering. The doctors said—"
"I've already arranged for a private physician to do a full evaluation before we leave," he interrupts gently. "And it's only for two days. You'd come with me."
"I don't think it's a good idea," I say carefully. "You need rest, not travel and meetings."
Alex moves closer, taking my hands in his. "Grace, I need to get back to normal. I need to feel useful again. And I need you with me."
There's something vulnerable in his admission, something that makes my chest tight.
"Alright," I say finally. "But if the doctor clears you. And if you promise to take it easy."
His smile is radiant. "I promise."
He moves to our closet, pulling out a suitcase with practiced efficiency. I watch as he begins selecting clothes for both of us—his movements careful and deliberate, like everything he does. When he reaches for my lingerie drawer, I raise an eyebrow.
"Planning ahead, are we?"
"I want to make sure you have everything you need," he says, his voice dropping to that low register that makes my pulse quicken. "Besides, I like knowing what you're wearing under your clothes."
God, he's shameless. But the possessiveness in his voice sends heat spiraling through my chest instead of annoyance.
"You're packing an awful lot," I observe as he adds another set to the suitcase.
Alex catches my wrist gently as I reach to remove some items. "These are all necessities." His thumb traces over my pulse point, and I can feel my heartbeat quicken under his touch. "I like seeing you in beautiful things. I like knowing I'm the only one who gets to see you in them."
The only one. The words echo in my mind.
His blue eyes burn with intense light. "Grace. You belong only to me."
The phrase hits deeper than he probably realizes.