Chapter 60
Grace's POV
I sat in my car, staring at my phone screen. According to the display, the call had lasted exactly seven seconds, but those seven seconds changed everything.
I'd heard the voices in the background. Muffled, but clear enough.
They all knew.
Everyone in that house knew about Laura.
How long? I wondered numbly.
I thought about every meeting, Aria's favoritism toward me. Every conversation where Margaret criticized my behavior as Richard's wife. Every moment when I'd desperately tried to win their approval, to be worthy of their acceptance.
I was the joke they all shared.
My hands trembled as I quickly dialed my private investigator's number.
"Remember what I asked you to investigate last month?" My voice sounded strange, hollow.
"The paternity test? Yes, of course. It confirmed your suspicion—Emma Harrison is definitely the biological daughter of Richard Harrison and Laura Parker."
Confirmed. So there it was, in black and white.
"I need you to prepare a comprehensive report," I said, my voice gaining strength. "Photos of the DNA results, documented records of the biological relationship. But only the one for Laura and Emma."
"Send copies to Margaret Harrison and Aria Harrison. I want them to know exactly who's been living under their roof," I continued.
I had originally planned to reveal this bombshell after I'd taken back everything that was mine, but now I'd changed my mind.
Let's see how much family unity matters when the truth comes out.
When I pulled up to my apartment building, I noticed a familiar figure in the shadows near the entrance.
Alex.
He straightened when he saw me, even in the dim streetlight. He was still wearing his work suit, which despite his obvious long wait, remained perfectly pressed.
Guilt washed over me as I remembered this morning's conversation. We'd made plans to meet tonight. And I'd completely forgotten in the chaos of the day.
"Alex?" I approached him slowly, noticing how his body language shifted from casual to guarded as I got closer. "How long have you been waiting?"
"Not long," he said, but his voice was carefully neutral, telling me he was lying.
"I went by your office," he continued. "They said you left hours ago."
The fact that he'd come looking for me sent an unexpected warmth through my chest. On this night full of betrayal and humiliation, knowing someone actually cared about my whereabouts felt...
"I'm so sorry," I said, stepping closer. "I got caught up in something and completely lost track of time. I know that's not an excuse, I know you were waiting—"
"Grace." His voice was quiet but firm. "You don't owe me an explanation."
But there was something in his tone suggesting he thought I should want to give one anyway.
"You're upset," I observed.
"I'm not upset." The denial came too quickly, too sharp. "It's late. You should go in and rest."
I studied his face in the dim light, noting the careful way he was controlling himself. This wasn't the confident, controlled Alex I was used to. This was someone who'd been left waiting, wondering, making up stories about why I hadn't shown up.
He was worried. About me.
"Is it because I forgot you were coming tonight? Or because I didn't reply to your messages?" My tone softened, taking on an almost pleading quality—though I didn't realize how much I sounded like I was coaxing him.
It seemed that every time I faced Alex, the ice around my heart melted instantly.
He said nothing.
I remembered what Grandma Eleanor had said: "Alex has never been the type to form close relationships with people, so he's long accustomed to separation, indifference, and being forgotten."
"Darling, I'm sorry. Don't be angry with me, okay?"
I suddenly hugged him, my voice low, carrying both apology and coaxing. "Next time I promise I'll reply right away, and I definitely won't forget what you said.
Actually, I had a pretty rough night too. Could you... stay and keep me company for a while?"
"What did you just call me?" Alex sounded somewhat surprised.
Only then did I realize the intimate term I'd used.
"Alex," I lied.
Alex held me tighter. His chin lifted slightly, his breath brushing my forehead, burning yet gentle. "That's not what you called me just now... I'd rather hear what you said before."
His voice was deep and rich, making my heart race.
"...Darling." I felt my cheeks burning as I called him that softly again. "So... will you stay?"
An immediate "Yes" fell by my ear.
His voice was low and tender, his warm breath accompanied by a touch that felt almost like a kiss, brushing across my cheek.
Afraid I might lose control, I quickly turned to open the door, pulling Alex's hand as we walked in.
After entering, I turned on the lights and changed my shoes, then took out a pair of brand new men's slippers from the shoe cabinet and gently placed them beside his feet.
"I bought these especially for you. Try them on—do they fit?"
Alex looked down at the slippers, and a small but bright light kindled in his eyes. He didn't even try them on before answering without hesitation: "I love them."
I couldn't help but laugh, my eyes crinkling as I looked at him.
"What are you laughing at?" he asked gently.
"I'm laughing because..." My tone was light, carrying a few traces of playful warmth. "Everyone outside says the Morgan heir is cold and terrifying, but only I know he's actually..."
I paused, looking into his deep eyes. "Particularly easy to coax. And particularly gentle."