Chapter 4

Alex Stone's sudden appearance was like a pebble dropped into a pond—it didn't cause any big waves, but it made me realize that just hiding under Ethan's wing wasn't nearly enough.

I had to make my own move now.

That afternoon, I made up an excuse about wanting to get some air and get used to the neighborhood.

Ethan didn't object—he just sent a driver and a bodyguard to tag along.

I directed them to the Metropolitan Galleria, the most luxurious shopping destination downtown.

Then I pulled out my phone and made a call.

"Hey, Dad," I said when he picked up.

Logan Jennings' voice burst through the line, tense and furious. "Grace! Where in the world are you? You're with that Ethan bastard, aren't you? The whole city is talking—they're saying you threw away your engagement for him!"

"Dad, please, calm down and hear me out. I'm really okay. I'm totally safe right now," I said, lowering my voice.

"Safe? You think you're safe with Ethan? That guy's a wolf—always hungry, never satisfied! Get back here, now!"

"Dad, I can't come home. I... I think I've got amnesia," I said, taking a deep breath and putting on my best act.

The phone went silent for a moment.

After what felt like forever, Logan finally spoke, his voice trembling with disbelief, "What did you just say? Amnesia?"

"Yeah, I fell down the stairs, and when I woke up, most things are just a blur." I allowed a thread of vulnerability into my voice, just enough to sound shaken. "All I remember is... Ethan is my husband."

"That's ridiculous!" Logan exploded. "Alex is your fiancé! Your wedding is next month!"

"But... but Ethan showed me our marriage certificate, and we wore the same wedding ring. Dad, who's telling the truth? I don't even know what to believe anymore... my head's such a mess..." I said, my voice small and hurt.

I could practically picture Logan losing it on the other end of the line.

But I had to make everyone believe I really had amnesia.

Only then could everything I did next be justified in their eyes.

Sure enough, even though Logan was still furious, hearing how upset I sounded made his tone soften.

"Don't cry, Grace. Where are you? I'll come pick you up," he said, his voice gentler than before.

"I'm at the Metropolitan Galleria. But Ethan's people are with me."

"Hang tight, I'm on my way!" Logan said, his tone urgent and worried.

Ending the call, I stepped into the refined quiet of an exclusive boutique—one I knew Olivia frequented.

And there she was, not far from the entrance, hovering near an older socialite, a practiced smile plastered across her face.

When she saw me walk in, her smile faltered for a moment before she plastered on a look of surprise and concern.

"Grace! You're awake! Are you feeling better?" Olivia chirped, sounding all sweet and worried.

As she spoke, she reached out, trying to take my hand.

I took a step back, dodging her hand.

I looked at her, my gaze wary and unfamiliar, as if I didn't know her at all.

"Who are you?" I asked, my tone wary and confused.

Olivia's expression was priceless—her face was a whole drama in itself.

Shock, hurt, disbelief—she looked like she'd just been slapped by reality.

The Oscars seriously owe her a trophy for that act.

"Grace, you... you don't recognize me? It's me, Olivia!" she stammered, looking totally shocked.

"Olivia?" I tilted my head, acting like I was really trying to remember. "Nope, doesn't ring a bell."

The staff and shoppers all started watching, gossiping and shooting us curious looks.

Olivia's face flushed, then went pale.

"Grace, please, this isn't funny... I know you're still upset with me, but we've been like sisters for so many years. How could you just act like you don't know me?" Olivia stammered, her voice trembling.

"Since when were we sisters?" I cut her off coldly. "My husband made it clear—I shouldn't associate with people of questionable character."

"Your husband?" Olivia scoffed, like I'd just said something completely ridiculous. "Grace, have you lost your mind? Where did this so-called husband come from? The only man you've got is your fiancé, Alex Stone!"

"You're lying! My husband is Ethan Lewis! We're married, okay?" I shot back, my voice suddenly loud and sharp, like a cat whose tail just got stepped on.

I deliberately stressed the word "married," making sure everyone in the store heard it.

The whole store erupted in whispers and gasps.

The Jennings heiress dumped her fiancé and got hitched to her arch-nemesis, Ethan? This was the juiciest gossip of the year!

Olivia's face fell—she looked like she'd just been slapped, her expression shifting from shock to embarrassment in an instant.

She definitely hadn't expected me to air this for everyone to hear.

"Grace, just calm down..." Olivia started to protest, but I wasn't having it.

I walked right up to the limited-edition bag Olivia was recommending to the rich lady, pointed at it, and said to the sales associate.

"This one, that one, and that one—everything she's touched, I don't want. They're tainted. I'll take all the rest," I said, my tone icy.

Those three words, "They're tainted", weren't loud, but they were sharp enough for everyone in the store to hear them perfectly.

Olivia's face flushed a deep, angry red.

That was pure, unfiltered humiliation—right there for everyone to see.

"Grace! Don't push it!" Olivia's facade finally cracked, and she glared at me through clenched teeth.

"Push it? Trust me, I can be way worse." I scoffed, a smirk on my lips.

I pulled out the black card Ethan had given me and handed it to the sales associate.

"Charge it," I said, my tone cool and commanding.

Then I strode right up to Olivia, looking down at her like she was nothing but a bug under my shoe.

"Olivia, whatever you were to me before, I couldn't care less. From today on, stay out of my sight.

"If I ever see you again, I'll make sure you regret it—every single time," I said, my voice cold and sharp.

With that, I snatched up those luxury bags—worth a small fortune—and strode out without so much as a backward glance.

Olivia was left standing there, shaking all over with rage, her face livid with humiliation.

A quiet thrill ran through me—clean and sharp.

This was only the first move.

I would reclaim what was mine, piece by piece.