CHAPTER 6.

Grace’s POV.

The air in the room didn't just turn cold; it vanished.

My eyes locked onto Ryan, and for a terrifying second, the world tilted on its axis. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, frantic and painful. My legs turned to water.

It can’t be him.

But it was. Ryan. The man who had promised me forever and then destroyed me. And beside him, looking equally horrified, was Chloe—the woman he had destroyed me for.

Chloe recovered first. Her gaze raked over me, sharp and predatory. She took in the designer dress, the diamonds, and the way I stood. I saw the confusion in her eyes curdle into instant, venomous jealousy.

I wanted to run. I wanted to turn around, sprint out the front door, and never look back.

But then, a hand settled on the small of my back.

It wasn’t a comforting touch. It was heavy. Possessive. Sebastian’s fingers pressed into the silk of my dress, grounding me, trapping me. The heat of his palm was a silent command—Stand your ground.

“Father,” Sebastian’s voice sliced through the silence, smooth and indifferent. “I’d like you to meet Isabella. My wife.”

I forced my lips to curve. It felt like my face was made of plaster. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Knight,” I managed to say. My voice sounded foreign to my own ears—steadier than I felt.

Scrape.

Ryan’s chair shrieked against the floor as he shot to his feet.

“Your wife?” Ryan choked out. He looked from Sebastian to me, his face draining of color, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Grace? That’s who you married?”

He took a step toward me, ignoring the table between us. “Grace? What the hell are you doing here? When did you change your name?”

The sound of my real name in this house felt like a gunshot.

“Ryan!” Chloe hissed, tugging at his arm, but he shook her off.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Ryan spat, his voice rising, trembling with a mix of shock and rage. “You think a new dress and a fake name fool me? I know you.” He turned to Sebastian, a cruel, incredulous laugh bubbling out of him. “You married her? You brought my leftovers into our father’s house and put a ring on her finger?”

Leftovers.

The word hung in the air, ugly and visceral. I felt sick. I wanted to shrink, to cry, to scream.

But I wasn’t Grace anymore. Grace was weak. Grace was a victim. Isabella was a Knight.

I took a slow, deliberate breath, channeling every ounce of strength I had left. I looked at Ryan, then tilted my head slightly, furrowing my brows in polite confusion.

“I’m afraid there has been a mistake,” I said, my tone cool. “My name is Isabella Reeds. I have never met you before in my life.”

“Don’t lie to me!” Ryan shouted, pointing a finger in my face. “Stop the act! You’re Grace. You’re the poor little teacher who couldn’t afford rent!”

“Ryan, that is enough.”

Sebastian didn’t shout. He didn’t have to. He simply stepped forward, placing his body between Ryan and me. He blocked me from view, a solid wall of black wool and simmering violence.

Sebastian looked at his stepbrother with an expression of pure, unadulterated boredom.

“You sound unhinged,” Sebastian said quietly. “Is this a side effect of your medication? Or are you just drunk?”

“I’m not drunk!” Ryan seethed. “That is Grace! I dated her for one year! Check her background, Sebastian. You’ve been scammed.”

“I have checked her background,” Sebastian said. He didn’t blink. He didn’t hesitate. He spoke with the absolute arrogance of a man who decided what the truth was. “I have seen her birth certificate. I have met her family, the Reeds. I know exactly who my wife is.”

Sebastian stepped closer to Ryan, forcing the other man to take a step back.

“Now,” Sebastian lowered his voice, lethal and low. “You are insulting my wife. You are embarrassing yourself in front of our father. And you are boring me. Sit down.”

Ryan opened his mouth to argue, but the sheer force of Sebastian’s confidence made him falter. He looked at me again, searching for a crack in the mask.

I didn’t give him one. I stood perfectly still, looking at him with the detached pity of a stranger.

“Sit down, Ryan,” the older man at the head of the table spoke for the first time. Gerald Knight’s voice was dry and rattling, but it carried authority. “You are making a scene over a resemblance. It is unbecoming.”

Ryan clenched his jaw so hard I thought his teeth might crack. He looked at me one last time—a look of pure hatred and lingering suspicion—before sinking back into his chair.

“My apologies,” Ryan muttered, though his eyes never left me. “The resemblance is... uncanny.”

“Come, Isabella.” Sebastian’s hand returned to my back.

He guided me to the seat directly across from Ryan. I sat, smoothing my dress, my heart still slamming against my ribs like a sledgehammer.

The table was set with crystal and silver, beautiful and cold. Sebastian sat beside me, the picture of relaxed power. He had stood up before his family without a tremor in his pulse.

I picked up my napkin and placed it on my lap to hide the trembling of my hands.

Across the table, Chloe stared at me, her knife gripping the tablecloth. Ryan stared at his drink, his knuckles white.

The silence that descended was heavy, suffocating, and thick with danger.

Sebastian poured me a glass of water and leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear. To the others, it looked like an intimate whisper between newlyweds.

“Breathe,” he commanded softly, his voice barely audible. “If you fall apart now, I will leave you to the wolves.”

I swallowed hard and took a sip of water.

I had survived the introduction. But as I looked across the table at Ryan’s darkening eyes, I knew this wasn’t over. He didn’t believe the lie. He was just waiting for me to slip.

I was trapped in a lion’s den, and the only thing protecting me was the monster sitting beside me.