Chapter 74
Grace's POV
In the car, Alex turned to me with an expression I'd never seen before—vulnerable, almost shy.
"Grace," he said quietly, "do you have your driver's license with you?"
I blinked, startled by the sudden change of topic. "Yes, but why—"
"Today has been... special for me. Hearing you say those things about me, about us..." He paused, looking at me lovingly. "I find myself wanting to make this official. Soon."
Is he suggesting what I think he's suggesting?
"Alex, that seems rather sudden—"
"I know it does. But after everything that happened today," his eyes met mine, intense and sincere. "I want to be your husband, Grace. Not just your fiancé."
My phone rang with a call from Grandmother Eleanor. I answered.
"Grace, I wanted to tell you that today is a special day—Alex's birthday. He never lets us help him celebrate, so could you spend more time with him today?"
So that's what Alex meant by special.
"Grandmother, I will."
I stared at him. "Alex, why didn't you tell me?"
"I don't celebrate. Haven't since my mother died." His voice was matter-of-fact, but I could hear the old pain underneath.
My heart ached for him. Without thinking, I reached over and took his hand.
"Then let's give today a different special meaning," I said softly. "Let's go get married."
His eyes widened. "Grace—"
"But," I added with a small smile, "you still owe me a proper proposal later."
---
We made it to the county clerk's office with exactly ten minutes to spare before closing. The elderly clerk beamed at us as we filled out the paperwork.
"What a beautiful couple," she said warmly. "You two are absolutely perfect together."
I felt heat rise in my cheeks.
"Thank you. Though I think my soon-to-be husband might be a little too handsome for his own good."
Alex laughed—a genuine, happy sound that made my heart skip. He laced his fingers through mine, squeezing gently.
"Mrs. Morgan," he said, testing out the name. "I like the sound of that."
As we signed the marriage certificate, I felt a profound sense of rightness settle over me. This wasn't the fairy-tale wedding I'd once dreamed of, but it was real. It was ours.
Outside the courthouse, Alex pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead tenderly.
"Happy birthday, darling," I whispered against his lips.
"Best birthday of my life, baby," he whispered back.
---
Richard's POV
I stood at the county clerk's office, Emma's passport renewal forms scattered across the counter. Father insisted on sending Emma abroad. Although I couldn't bear it, if I didn't do this, they would make sure I'd never see her again.
"Sir, you're missing a guardian consent form," the clerk said, sliding another document toward me. "You'll need to fill this out completely."
I turned to grab a pen from the display rack, and that's when I saw her.
Grace.
The name almost escaped my lips before I caught myself. A woman with familiar chestnut hair was walking toward the marriage license section, her hand intertwined with a tall man in an expensive suit.
What the hell is Grace doing here? And who is that with her?
My heart hammered against my ribs. Grace getting married? That was impossible. She was still my wife in every way that mattered.
"Sir?" The clerk's voice snapped me back. "The form?"
I scribbled through the paperwork, my eyes darting toward the marriage section. The woman's profile looked exactly like Grace, but something was different. She carried herself with more confidence, wore clothes that screamed money. Real money.
It can't be her. Grace doesn't have that kind of class.
But my gut told me otherwise.
---
I rushed through the remaining paperwork, practically throwing my signature across the documents. The moment I finished, I bolted from the building, scanning the parking lot frantically.
Empty.
Nothing but rows of cars baking in the afternoon sun. No sign of Grace or the mystery man.
Am I losing my mind?
I stood there for ten minutes, checking every corner, every shadow. Nothing. Maybe it really had been my imagination—some guilt-induced hallucination brought on by the stress of maintaining this double life.
But the unease wouldn't leave. Grace getting married? The thought made my stomach churn in ways I didn't want to examine.
She wouldn't. She can't. We are husband and wife.
Yet doubt gnawed at me as I walked back to my car.
---
Twenty minutes later, I was back inside the county building, approaching the marriage license desk with what I hoped was casual confidence.
"Excuse me," I said to the same elderly clerk who'd been helping the couple earlier. "I need to check on my wife's marriage status. Grace Wilson."
The woman looked up with practiced politeness. "I'll need your wife's identification, sir."
My throat went dry.
I fumbled for my wallet, knowing damn well what I'd find. Or rather, what I wouldn't find.
"I... I don't have it with me right now," I stammered.
The clerk's expression grew sympathetic but firm. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't release marriage records without proper documentation. Privacy laws, you understand."
Privacy laws. Right.
"Of course," I managed, backing away from the counter. "I'll... I'll come back with the proper paperwork."
I walked out of that building feeling like the fraud I was. The irony wasn't lost on me—I couldn't prove my marriage to Grace because it had never been real in the first place.