Chapter 96
Grace's POV
The Cooper family business dinner had been surprisingly pleasant. Their hospitality was genuine, and even Violet had seemed more rational than usual.
"Maybe I've been too paranoid about Alex's childhood friend," I murmured to Julie as we prepared to leave the restaurant.
Julie nodded absently, but I noticed her distracted state throughout the evening. She'd barely touched her food.
"Are you feeling alright?" I asked as we walked toward the parking lot.
"Fine," she said quickly. "Just tired. Long day."
I was about to respond when Violet appeared beside us, her smile bright and seemingly genuine.
"Grace, could I speak with you for a moment? Privately?"
I glanced at Julie. "Wait by the car. I'll be right there."
---
Violet's demeanor had completely shifted from our previous encounters. Gone was the barely concealed hostility, replaced by what appeared to be sincere remorse.
"I owe you an apology," she said, extending her hand. "My behavior at the engagement party was inexcusable. I was jealous and petty, and I took it out on you."
I studied her face, searching for signs of deception. "Apology accepted."
"I'd like us to be friends, if possible. Alex is important to me—as a friend—and you make him happy. That should be enough for me."
We shook hands, her grip firm and warm. Maybe people could change. Maybe—
A figure burst from the shadows between two parked cars.
The man was middle-aged, disheveled, with wild eyes and a knife glinting in the streetlight. He charged straight toward me with surprising speed.
"Look out!" Violet screamed, throwing herself forward.
I pivoted, using the self-defense techniques I'd learned before, and managed to grab the attacker's wrist. For a moment, I thought I had him under control.
Then Violet stepped between us.
The knife slashed across Violet's wrist as she tried to shield me. Blood immediately began flowing.
"Grace!" she gasped, stumbling backward. "Are you hurt?"
My security team appeared, tackling the attacker and wrestling the knife away. But my attention was focused on Violet, who was pressing her other hand against the bleeding wound.
"You're bleeding badly," I said, pulling out my handkerchief to wrap around her wrist. But the cut was deep. The makeshift bandage was soaking through immediately.
Julie came running from the car. "Grace! Oh my God, what happened? Are you—"
"I'm fine. Help me get her to the car. We need to get to a hospital. Now."
As our car sped through the city streets, I kept pressure on Violet's wound while Julie called ahead to the emergency room. Violet's face was pale, but she managed a weak smile.
"At least we know I meant that apology," she whispered.
Despite everything between us, I felt a surge of gratitude. She'd put herself in danger to protect me.
---
Julie and I waited outside the operating room.
But my mind wasn't entirely on Violet. Something about tonight felt orchestrated, though I couldn't put my finger on what. The attacker had seemed familiar somehow.
"Grace?" Julie's voice was small, uncertain. "There's something I need to tell you."
I turned to face her fully, noting the panic in her eyes. "What is it?"
She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, shaking her head. "Maybe... maybe it can wait until tomorrow."
I didn't pay attention to her words, instead continuing to recall the attacker's face.
The familiar face suddenly clicked into place in my memory. I'd seen him before—at Elizabeth's business dinner yesterday. He was the one who exposed my relationship with Richard.
Was this connected to Andrew and Elizabeth? The thought crept into my mind, but something didn't add up. Why choose such a venue? The Cooper family dinner was hardly the place for a discreet attack. And Violet's reaction—throwing herself between me and the knife—seemed almost... excessive for the actual threat level.
I glanced at Violet in the operating room, now pale. The wound was being treated, but her almost theatrical response to protect me felt strangely disproportionate.
Stop it, Grace. I shook my head. The woman was genuinely hurt.
Half an hour later, Violet's mother and father arrived, their faces etched with panic. Her mother's designer heels clicked rapidly against the polished floor as she hurried toward us.
"Where is she? Where's my daughter?" Her voice cracked with emotion.
"She's in the operating room," I said, standing to meet them. "The doctors said it's not life-threatening, but—"
"Our Violet has always been such a delicate flower," she interrupted, tears streaming down her cheeks. "She used to cry just getting shots as a child... and today she suffered such trauma!" Her voice rose with each word, hands trembling as she clutched her purse.
The man placed a protective arm around his wife, his expression grave. Both parents maintained polite distance from me—acknowledging my presence but clearly having no interest in extended conversation.
The operating room doors opened, and a doctor emerged, still wearing scrubs. "The surgery went well. Miss Cooper is stable. The wound was deep but didn't damage any major vessels or nerves."
Relief flooded through me as Violet was wheeled into a private room. The medical team had done excellent work—she'd be fine.
Her mother rushed to the bedside, maternal instincts taking over. "Sweetheart, why did you have to be so impulsive? You could have been killed!"
The man looked meaningfully toward me. "Miss Wilson, you shouldn't blame yourself. Violet has always been kind-hearted. Even when she's hurt, she can't bear to see others suffer."
His words carried an undertone I couldn't quite place—as if I should feel grateful, indebted somehow.
"I take full responsibility," I said firmly. "All of Miss Cooper's medical expenses and recovery costs will be covered by me. I'll also arrange for the best private physicians to monitor her treatment."
The man's expression flickered with something like discomfort. "That's not what I meant. The Cooper family doesn't lack the resources for medical bills..."
His protest only confirmed what I'd suspected—this wasn't about money.
The door opened again, and Alex strode in, his usually immaculate appearance slightly disheveled. His tie was loose, his semi-formal jacket wrinkled, and his hair looked like he'd been running his hands through it. Lucas followed with two bodyguards, their presence immediately commanding attention.