Heidi held her breath, waiting for a reply.
From the moment this started, Grace had worn the same gentle smile—not too warm, not too cold. It was the kind of perfectly measured smile one earns through years of formal events and social training. To strangers, it was breathtaking. To those who knew her, it was her default setting—gracious, polished, but distant.
She kept her tone soft as she stroked Aube’s neck, but the motion wasn’t just affectionate—it was calculated. Her fingertips brushed under Aube’s chin, a familiar cue. As expected, the mare turned her head away—conveniently out of Heidi’s reach.
Heidi’s hand froze midair.
On a sunny Saturday afternoon, Grace stepped aboard a private jet bound for New York, the flight path already cleared in advance. Her phone was still connected to a call with Raphael.On the line, his voice was gentle, full of reminders and concern.“I’m only gone for a few days. I’ll be back Wednesday,” Grace said.“Alright. I’ve got to fly to Germany on Wednesday too—but I’ll be back that same evening.”Neither wanted to hang up. They exchanged a few more reluctant words before ending the call. It would be the longest they’d been apart in recent memory.Raphael had insisted she reply to his messages every day—and absolutely
Grace shot Raphael a playful glare, then let out a cold little huff as she plopped down into his office chair. Arms crossed and lips jutted in a pout, she looked every bit the queen throwing a royal tantrum.Raphael, on the other hand, looked perfectly put together again—his shirt crisp, his cuffs neat, as though nothing had happened. Not that it ever got too disheveled to begin with. But her?Her torn stockings sat pitifully to the side. Luckily, she hadn’t come in just that dress—she still had her long white coat that reached her ankles. If she hadn’t… she might’ve murdered him on the spot.
The moment her heel grazed the inside of his thigh, Raphael let go of her. Just like that. The hand on her stockinged leg withdrew, and he stepped back—gentlemanly, composed.Grace blinked, disoriented. Just seconds ago, she’d been melting into his kiss, wrapped in that warm, pine-scented embrace of his. Now, suddenly pulled away, a wave of loss swept over her.She hadn’t meant to push him away—not really. It was just that his touch on her thigh had made her go all soft and tingly, and her instincts had kicked in. But now she was sure she must’ve hurt him.“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”“It’s fine. Not your fault.” Raphael’s voice was low and rough, still edged with breathlessness. But his eyes… dark, stormy, unreadable. Like fog that refused to lift.Grace didn’t know what to do. She shifted slightly, legs swinging a little as she sat on the desk. One of her heels now dangled precariously off her foot, ready to fall at any second.Raphael couldn’t look away. His throat bobbed with a vis
Following her lawyer’s advice, Grace submitted a request to have a well-respected, independent institution evaluate the authenticity of the other designer’s sketches. She also invited him to provide the original paper drawings for handwriting and carbon ink dating analysis.At first, the designer refused, going on social media to protest: “Why should I agree to some exam just because you doubt the date on my sketch? You’ve got all the money—who’s to say that lab isn’t in your pocket?”In response, Grace offered to let him choose the verifying institution. Still, he stalled.Meanwhile, she quietly reached out to the buyer who had purchased the asymmetrical pearl earrings the previous year, and respectfully requested to borrow them for submission to the National Jewelry Craftsmanship Association for review.By then, public opinion had begun to shift in Grace’s favor. Many noted how transparent and cooperative Élan G was being, while the so-called "victim" designer grew increasingly evas
After Grace addressed the plagiarism allegations at the press conference, reporters rushed to file their stories, all scrambling to be the first to publish an update.Liam had already reached out to several media contacts, urging them to cover the issue with fairness—that is, to focus on the plagiarism claims and not let Grace’s identity or personal life dilute the core of the story.The last thing they needed was for this to spiral into some tabloid circus.Naturally, the journalists weren’t thrilled. After all, Grace—and her high-profile marriage—was juicy enough to fill pages.They could easily spin headlines speculating on her husband’s stance, their
Grace asked lightly, her tone soft and casual—like she was asking what they’d have for lunch. But from the second the words left her lips, her eyes hadn’t moved an inch from Raphael’s.She was watching him, every flicker of expression, as if trying to read the truth straight from his soul.Raphael’s hand at her waist unconsciously tightened. His gaze darkened.“Remember when you asked me the other day what kind of gift I liked?” he said quietly.His other hand rose, warm palm resting gently against her cheek, as though he were touching something rare and delicate.Grace was almost lulled by the tenderness. “What? You didn’t even answer me. I’m not