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Chapter7
Grace’s friends stood frozen, watching Alexander Stone’s car vanish into the night, its taillights dwindling until they disappeared. Fury shook them, but with Grace gravely injured, all they could do was rush her back to the hospital.
When she opened her eyes again, the sterile white ceiling greeted her. Only a nurse was at her side.
“Miss Miller, you‘ re awake? Thankfully your friends brought you here in time… They said their companies had urgent matters to handle, but asked us to notify them once you regained consciousness.”
“No need,” Grace rasped, cutting her off. “They‘ re busy. Don’t disturb them.”
The nurse’s eyes brimmed with sympathy. “But you need someone to care for you-‘
})
“I can take care of myself.” Grace shut her eyes, burying every trace of vulnerability where no one could see.
The days that followed blurred into a fong, lonely convalescence.
She ate alone. Changed her dressings alone. Lived alone.
When she was finally discharged, she signed her own paperwork, hailed her own car, and went back
to the vast, silent estate.
Inside, she began packing.
Every gift she had chosen with love, every dress she had once hoped he might notice, every silly “couple’s set” she had bought in secret–she threw them all into the trash.
By the time she dragged her aching body through the last pile, the front doors opened.
Alexander walked in with Bella Hart nestled at his side, his arm snug around her waist.
He didn’t spare Grace a glance. Instead, he turned straight to the waiting butler. “Bella needs rest.
She’ll be living here for a while. Prepare the master bedroom–the one with the best light. Everything must be new. She likes pink, so silk bedding in that shade. Blackout curtains, and fresh
white roses delivered daily. As for her meals-”
Chapter 7
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His voice was steady, serious, meticulous in detail.
From the staircase, Grace stood listening, her chest frozen solid.
She remembered her own arrival. No warm instructions, no personal care. Just a curt order for the
assistant to put her in a guest room. One cold sentence. ‘Ask the butler if you need anything.‘
So this was love. This was the difference.
Head lowered, she tried to slip away upstairs quietly.
“Stop!” Bella’s sharp voice rang out.
Grace turned, startled, as Bella’s reddened eyes fixed on her dress.
“Why are you dressed to match Alexander?”
Grace blinked, confused, before glancing down. Alexander wore a dark blue shirt today. She was in
an old dark blue dress. Nothing more than a coincidence.
Before she could explain, Bella was already fuming. “Alexander belongs to me! No one else is
allowed to wear the same color as him! Take it off. Right now.”
Grace’s voice cracked with disbelief. “It’s just a coincidence-”
“I don’t care! Take it off!” Bella shrieked, throwing herself into Alexander’s arms, sobbing. “She‘
s bullying me!”
His face hardened. Without hesitation, he barked at the staff, “Didn’t you hear Bella? Get her out of
that dress‘.”
“Alexander Stone! Don’t you dare!” Grace backed
away
y in horror.
But the household staff only obeyed him. They grabbed her, ignoring her frantic struggles and
cries. Fabric tore with a sharp, humiliating rip.
In moments, Grace stood in the center of the grand hall stripped down to her undergarments,
surrounded by maids and footmen whose gazes ranged from pity to contempt.
Humiliation. Fury. Despair. They shredded her more cruelly than any physical touch.
Alexander’s voice cut through, cold and merciless. “Next time, be mindful. Don’t wear my color
again–unless you want Bella upset. Or the consequences won’t stop at losing a dress.”
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Shaking violently, Grace nearly crawled up the stairs, fleeing to the safety of her room.
Chapter7
