"No. I'm drawing a line." Grant's voice is steel wrapped in silk. "You are no longer welcome near my family. You want to be on charity boards together? Fine. We'll be civil. But you will leave Emma alone. You will stop your manipulations. And if you don't?—"
He doesn't finish the threat. Doesn't need to.
Victoria's face has gone pale, her carefully constructed social armor cracking. "You can't—Grant, you're being ridiculous. This girl is half your age, pregnant with your children, and you're choosing her over?—"
"Over you?" Samantha's voice cuts through the murmurs.
She's standing right behind her mother, and the look on her face is pure resolve.
"Samantha." Victoria says carefully. "Sweetheart, this isn't?—"
"Dad’s right." Samantha moves to stand beside Grant, her eyes locked on her mother. "Leave them alone. They're together, they're happy. And you trying to destroy that just makes you look petty and cruel."
Victoria's expression crumples. Just for a second, her perfect facade breaks, and I see pain and loss underneath.
But then it hardens again, and she looks at Grant and me with something like hatred.
"Fine." The word is clipped. "You want to play happy family with your pregnant child-bride? Go ahead. But don't come crying to me when it all falls apart."
She turns on her heel and walks away, her spine rigid.
The crowd around us starts to murmur. I catch fragments—Did you hear that?Victoria Cross just got shut down.About time someone stood up to her.
Grant's hand finds mine, solid and warm. Samantha is still standing with us, her jaw set.
"Thank you," I tell her quietly.
She shrugs, but a small smile tugs at her mouth. "Someone had to tell her the truth. Might as well be her own daughter."
Grant puts his arm around Samantha's shoulders, pulling her into a brief, fierce hug. "I'm proud of you."
"Yeah, well." Her voice is thick. "Don't make it weird."
But she's smiling.
I lean into Grant's side, and he presses a kiss to my temple.
"Ready to go home?" he murmurs.
"I couldn’t be more ready," I say.
We leave the gala together—Grant, Samantha, and me—walking out of the museum into the cool night air. Behind us, Victoria's social power evaporates like morning mist.
Ahead of us, everything is possible.
Chapter 27
Grant
Three weeks later, we’re sitting in the waiting room of Dr. Martelle's office, my leg bouncing with nervous energy as Emma flips through a parenting magazine beside me. She's 24 weeks along now, her baby bump undeniable in the coral maternity dress she chose this morning.
"You're making the entire row of chairs vibrate," Emma says without looking up from her magazine.
I immediately stop my leg. "Sorry. Just excited."
She places her hand on my knee and gives me a knowing smile. "I can tell."
This morning had started like any other—Emma waking up slowly beside me, stretching in that languid way that still makes my heart skip a beat. But then she'd turned to me, her expression suddenly serious.
