Chapter 4
He stood before the massive floor-to-ceiling window, tall and solid—nothing like the crippled man he was supposed to be.
For a moment, my mind went blank. I stumbled back, bumping into something with a soft clatter.
“Who’s there?”
The study door flung open.
There stood Grant, all trace of pallor and fraility gone. Instead, a sharp, dangerous energy radiated from him.
Our eyes locked.
I saw the shock in his gaze—and something lethal flickering behind it.
My legs weakened.
Quickly, he regained his composure, stepping aside to let me in before shutting the door quietly.
“You saw everything?”
I nodded, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“But your leg…”
“It was never crippled,” he said, calm and measured. “The accident four years ago left me injured, not disabled. I’ve been pretending all this time.”
“Why?”
He walked to the sofa, sat, and poured himself a drink. “To catch a bigger fish.”
He didn’t elaborate, but I didn’t need him to—this was clearly part of something bigger, something dangerous.
“Scared?” He looked at me, a self-mocking smile touching his lips. “Of course you are. Who’d want to be with someone whose hands are stained with blood, whose whole life is a web of schemes? The agreement can end early. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of—you won’t want for anything.”
I looked at him, at the vicious scar across his face, at the fleeting loneliness in his eyes.
And suddenly, I remembered that day outside Nova’s family house. His cold expression, and yet—he’d still ordered hot tea for me.
I shook my head.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
He stared, stunned.
“We’re husband and wife, aren’t we?” Gathering my courage, I met his gaze. “Even if it’s just a contract, I’ll play my part until it ends.”
He studied me for a long moment—so long I thought he might refuse.
Then, he smiled.
The scar seemed to soften with the expression.
“Alright,” he said. “Nova, this is your choice.”
From that day on, the wall between us vanished.
He stopped hiding things from me. He talked about company matters, took me to private gatherings, let me in.
That was when I realized Grant’s influence in Ashford ran deeper and darker than I’d ever imagined.
The “bigger fish” he was after was named Carl—a rising power in Ashford, and the man behind the crash four years ago.
I stood by him. I navigated the schemes, watched him strategize, watched the net draw tight, step by step.
And slowly, I began to see him clearly.
He wasn’t the monster rumors made him out to be.
His ruthlessness was reserved for his enemies.
But his tenderness, however rare, could undo you completely.
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