Chapter 3

Later that afternoon, I had Sophia bring out every single gift Grant had ever given me.

If I was going to sever ties, I needed to do it cleanly.

The larger items, the jewelry and designer bags, I arranged to be sent to auction houses and charities. As for the letters, the custom portraits, and the small trinkets—I threw them into the fireplace, one by one.

Just as the flames began to roar, Victoria suddenly appeared in the doorway.

Before I could ask how she got in, she lunged forward, grabbing my arm. In the next second, she violently threw her own weight backward, slamming her head against the stone hearth.

Before I could even process what had happened, Grant stormed into the room and shoved me hard.

"Evelyn, are you out of your mind?!"

I stumbled, the side of my face burning where I clipped the edge of a chair.

Victoria lay on the floor, tears streaming down her face. "I know you two are getting married... I just wanted to congratulate you in person. I didn't realize Evelyn hated me this much..."

Grant’s face twisted in disgust. "We aren't even married yet, and you're already acting like the tyrant of the house?"

"Was whispering poison to my parents not enough? Now you're physically attacking her? What the hell happened to you?"

He took a threatening step forward. "Tell me the truth. Did you leak the Ashford investigation to the press today?"

I looked up at him. It felt like I was staring at a stranger.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said. "The Ashford family's mess has nothing to do with me. I've never said a bad word about Victoria."

"I told you I was stepping aside. I don't go back on my word."

Grant frowned, his gaze dropping to the fireplace. He noticed the burning items.

Among them was a portrait he had painted of me years ago. Half of my face was already reduced to ash.

His expression darkened. "What is this? Another pathetic stunt to make me feel sorry for you?"

"Let me make this crystal clear. No matter what you do, I will never love you. You only make me sick."

"If anything happens to Victoria, I will make you pay."

Without another word, he scooped the 'injured' Victoria into his arms and strode out.

Halfway down the hall, Victoria’s head lolled against his chest, conveniently passing out.

I stood in the center of the room in total silence. I didn't waste a single breath defending myself.

In my past life, Victoria had killed herself in despair.

In this life, she had Grant moving mountains to save her, yet she still went out of her way to frame me.

Fortunately, the doctor who examined her declared it was nothing serious—just temporary exhaustion from stress.

Grant let out a massive sigh of relief, then turned and glared at me.

"You caused this. You sit right here and wait until morning."

I didn't argue.

I sat in the adjacent lounge and waited in silence until the sun came up.

Shortly after dawn, Grant walked in, personally carrying a bowl of clear chicken broth.

Seeing my pale, exhausted face, a brief flash of guilt crossed his eyes.

"You haven't slept?"

"I'm not tired."

He paused, his voice softening just a fraction.

"It's been a long night. Go get some rest."

I never expected to hear a word of comfort from him. I stood up smoothly.

The more compliant I was, the more his demeanor relaxed.

"I'll have the bridal studio send people over tomorrow. That last dress was too plain. You should try on a few more."

He cleared his throat. "Don't take what I said yesterday to heart. I panicked. I apologize."

He hesitated, but couldn't help adding the caveat.

"But Victoria is innocent in all this. Please, just stop making things hard for her because of me, okay?"

I looked into his eyes. I knew that as long as Victoria was involved, logic and truth meant absolutely nothing.

And as for my impending departure from New York? He wouldn't care even if I told him.

I offered a faint, perfectly polite smile.

"There's no need for the studio. As long as I'm marrying you, the dress doesn't matter."

"Happy wedding, Grant."

Grant opened his mouth to reply, but a soft moan came from the bed. Victoria was waking up.

She fluttered her eyes open, looking weak. "What... what happened to me?"

Grant instantly forgot I existed. He rushed to her side, his voice dripping with tender concern.

By the time he remembered to look back, I was already gone.

I returned to my room and began packing my bags.

For whatever reason, Grant actually had Daniel invite me to the Lincoln Center that evening.

It was my favorite romance opera. A story about two people who deeply, mutually chose each other.

I had begged him to go with me countless times in the past, and he had always dismissed it as a waste of time.

I knew exactly what this was—a guilt offering for his harshness the day before.

But I was leaving. None of it mattered anymore.

Grant had saved my life once. I had no desire to use our past to guilt him into spending time with me now.

I asked Daniel to politely decline.

To my surprise, Daniel returned minutes later, saying Grant insisted he would personally pick me up later that evening.

Left with no choice, I agreed.