Chapter 4
It wasn't fate. It wasn't chance. Someone was behind it all.
Holly clenched the documents, her knuckles turning white.
"So, are you picking me up because you've finally confirmed I'm a Grant, or is it just that you need someone who can actually inherit the family?" Holly asked, her voice steady.
The car went silent for a few seconds.
Charles Grant suddenly smiled, but there was no warmth in his eyes.
"You're more clear-headed than I expected," he said.
He leaned forward slightly, his tone blunt and almost cutting.
"Both," he replied.
"The Grants need the truth, and they need you. Especially now."
"What's happened?" Holly asked.
Charles met her gaze, speaking each word deliberately.
"Cliff passed away," he said.
Holly froze, caught off guard.
"Before he died, he left a will that said it couldn't be officially read until the real Grant bloodline was found," Charles said. "Up until now, everyone just took it for granted that Pearl was the sole heiress of the family."
Pearl Grant.
She'd heard that name countless times.
Pearl was one of the most famous socialites in Prosper, the family's darling—elegant, beautiful, always flawless. No matter where she was, everyone treated her like royalty.
But now, Charles was telling her—Pearl might have been living the life that should've been hers.
Holly felt a bitter sense of irony at the whole situation.
Just moments ago, her husband and his family had dismissed her for having no family to rely on, no abilities, and no one in her corner. Now she was being told that not only did she have a family, but it was the most powerful one in Prosper.
The world was absurd—almost like some twisted joke.
"I need time," Holly said softly.
"Alright," Charles said, without pressuring her. "But you won't have much. If you really are the true Grant, there are people who will do everything they can to keep you from coming back."
With that, he reached forward, grabbed a new phone from the front seat, and handed it to her.
"Jerry Jones's number, mine, and the address for the old Grant estate are all saved in there. You can stay at The Cloudrest tonight—everything's already arranged," Charles said.
Holly didn't take the phone. She just asked, "What if I'm not?"
Charles looked at her for a few seconds before speaking slowly.
"Then I'll take you to the hotel, give you enough compensation to keep your dignity, and the Grants won't trouble you anymore. Tonight will be the last you ever hear from us."
Holly nodded and finally took the phone.
"One last question," she said, looking at him. "Why do you trust me?"
Charles leaned back in his seat, his eyes lingering on the red mark on her cheek. His voice was calm.
"Because my sister should never have been thrown out like that."
His words caught her off guard.
Holly felt a lump form in her throat, and she quickly turned her head to look out the window.
The windshield wipers moved in a steady rhythm, slicing through the rain and turning the city lights into blurred patches of color.
It had been years since anyone had said something like that to her.
Suddenly, her phone vibrated.
The caller ID lit up with Jensen Lowe's name.
Holly glanced at it and declined the call without a second thought.
Her phone buzzed with a new message.
[Left something behind. Come back.]
She stared at the screen, and she could practically hear the arrogance in Jensen's tone.
Charles asked in a flat voice, "Is it trouble?"
Holly pressed the phone screen off, a slow smile curling at her lips.
"Not trouble," she said. "It's a debt—and I haven't even started settling it yet."
Charles looked at her as if he was finally seeing her for who she really was.
After a moment, he nodded.
"Then we'll start tomorrow."
The car slowly turned at the intersection, gliding toward The Cloudrest.
In the Lowe living room, Jensen Lowe stared at his phone, brows furrowed.
"She's not picking up?" Mae Summers scooted closer, sounding annoyed. "Jensen, you don't think she's actually got some backup plan, do you?"
Wendy Tate let out a dismissive snort. "A woman with nobody behind her—what could she possibly pull off? She's just acting tough. Once the divorce goes through tomorrow, she won't even have anywhere to cry."
Jensen didn't say a word.
For some reason, he felt a strange frustration gnawing at him.
The look Holly shot him as she left was way too calm.
It was like she'd really let go.
But how could she possibly let go?
They'd been married for three years, and she never left—not even when things were at their worst. So why would she suddenly walk away so easily, just because he told her to?
Jensen thought for a moment, then sent another message.
[Leave the keys tomorrow. And don't make a scene—it won't do you any good.]
His message went unanswered, like it vanished into thin air.
Jensen's frown deepened, and just as he was about to throw his phone aside, his screen suddenly lit up with an incoming call.
On the other end, a woman's voice was gentle, but carried a weight that made Jensen sit up and pay attention.
"Rumor has it you got divorced today, Mr. Lowe?" she said.
Jensen blinked, caught off guard. "Pearl Grant?"
Pearl chuckled lightly.
"Congratulations," she said. "But let me give you a piece of advice—don't push people too far."
Jensen's eye twitched. "What do you mean?"
Pearl said, her voice calm and unhurried.