Chapter Twenty-Two

Grace’s POV

The entryway was already filled with voices when we they came down the stairs the rest of the way. Their families had turned up at the same time.

My mother, Margo Wilson, stood in the center like a queen holding court, elegant in a tailored blue suit that perfectly complemented her silver-blonde hair. At sixty, she still turned heads, a fact she worked hard to maintain and paid a lot of money. Botox was a beautiful thing in her eyes.

“Hunter,” she exclaimed, air-kissing his cheeks. “You look wonderful.”

“Thank you, Margo,” he said politely.

Her eyes landed on me next, assessing. “Grace,” she said, her smile tightening slightly. “That dress is... sensible.”

From Margo, ‘sensible’ was barely a step above ‘hideous.’ I forced a smile. “Hello, Mother.”

“Anyway, your father is held up at the office and might not make it.” Margo told them.

Behind her, Helena was greeting Hunter’s parents with practiced charm. Iris and Christopher Sinclair were as different from my mother as possible. Where Margo was all sharp edges and calculated moves, the Sinclairs were genuine warmth.

Iris broke away from Helena to envelop me in a hug. “Grace,” she said, her voice sincere. “You look lovely. How are you feeling?”

I hugged her back, surprised as always by her easy affection. The Sinclairs had treated me with more warmth in the few years I’d known them than my own mother had in my entire life.

Christopher clasped my shoulder briefly after Iris released me. “Good to see you, Grace. Helena mentioned you’ve moved in temporarily?”

If he only knew the whole story. “Just while we figure out if the procedure worked,” I said, trying to keep my voice light.

“Well, it’s very generous of you,” Christopher said, his eyes kind. “Not everyone would do what you are doing, even for family.”

I swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. Generous wasn’t the word I’d use. Stupid, maybe. Or masochistic. I felt that way now, after seeing Helena with that man.

“Grace has always been the helpful one,” my mother interjected smoothly. “Haven’t you, dear?”

The old familiar role. Grace the helper. Grace the accommodating one. Grace, who never says no. Sometimes I wondered if my mother even saw me at all, or just the function I served in the family.

Before I could respond, the door flew open again, and Hunter’s younger sister Maya burst in with her usual whirlwind energy.

“Sorry I’m late!” she called out. “Traffic was insane, and then I couldn’t find my keys, and—” She stopped short when she saw everyone assembled. “Oh good, I’m not that late after all.”

Maya was the wild card of the Sinclair family—artist, free spirit, brutally honest. She swept into the foyer like a gust of fresh air, hugging her parents before turning to me.

“Grace!” She squeezed me tight. “God, I’ve missed you. Helena said you’ve moved in? Please tell me she hasn’t turned you into her lady-in-waiting.”

Maya didn’t have a filter. She just said whatever was in her head. Grace loved her.

“Maya,” Helena said tightly, “so glad you could make it.”

Maya grinned, unbothered by Helena’s tone. “Wouldn’t miss it.” She lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “Where’s the wine? I need to catch up after dealing with that traffic.” She rolled her eyes at me.

As Maya charmed her way through the room, I caught Hunter watching me. His expression was unreadable, but intense enough to make me look away. I’d been noticing those looks more often lately, quick glances when he thought I wasn’t looking, his eyes lingering a beat too long. It was probably nothing. Just concern for the woman potentially carrying his child.

The photographer my mother had paid to come turned up, John. He went to work setting up in the living room. Helena had recovered her composure and was directing him with practiced ease, showing him the best angles of the room. From anyone else, it might have seemed helpful. From Helena, I recognized it as control.

“Why the need for photos?” Maya asked.

I could see Helena gritting her teeth. “Because we want some nice family photos.”

“I still think we should wait on photos,” Hunter said quietly to Helena.

She turned to him, her expression flawlessly composed but her eyes sharp. “It’s just family photos, darling. Nothing to announce yet.” She placed her hand on his chest, a gesture that seemed affectionate but that I’d long ago recognized as possessive. “Let Mother have this, please? You know how she gets.”

I watched Hunter’s jaw tighten, then relax as he gave up. Helena had always been able to do that—push just enough to get her way, but never so much that people realized they were being manipulated.

Growing up with Helena had been a masterclass in watching someone get exactly what they wanted without seeming to ask for it. Grace hadn’t realized it at the time. But since being pushed into having their baby and seeing Helena with another man. Her eyes had started to open to the true Helena.

They left John to his setup as dinner was served in the formal dining room, crystal and silver gleaming under the chandelier. I sat between Maya and Christopher, grateful for the buffer they provided from my mother’s pointed comments.

“So, Grace,” Margo said during the second course, “how is your... position going? Still answering phones?”

I took a sip of water, refusing to rise to the bait. After years, you’d think I’d be immune to her jabs, but they still hit their mark with sniper precision.

“My job as executive assistant to the CEO of Sinclair Enterprises is going very well, Mother.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without her,” Hunter said, and I felt his gaze on me from across the table.

“I’m just surprised you haven’t found something more... suited to your education by now,” Margo continued. “Something that would make use of your degree.”

Maya snorted beside me. “Because working for a huge corporation like Sinclair isn’t a great career move.”