Chapter 6

Grace's POV

I should have turned away, focused on the trays I was meant to carry or the tables I was meant to serve, but I couldn’t. I stood there, frozen in place, my eyes locked on him as he walked away with his mother.

He didn’t even look back. But then, I was hopeful he might. That at the last moment, he’d turn, his eyes would find mine, and we’d both know, despite the years, despite the masks, despite the lies.

Each step he took unraveled something inside me, something I thought I’d buried long ago. But the memories came anyway, flooding relentlessly.

The way he had grabbed me just moments ago, his hand firm on my arm, almost desperate. The weight of his gaze, boring into mine as if he were searching for something, something familiar. My heart had pounded so loud in that moment that I was certain he’d heard it.

“I miss you, Ernest,” I whispered under my breath, tasting the bitterness of my own longing. My teeth grazed my bottom lip, biting down to stop myself from saying more.

I heaved a sigh and bit my lower lip bitterly. If only I’d taken off that ridiculous mask. Maybe then he would have recognized me. But then, the image of his mother’s face flashed in my mind. The subtle wrinkle of her nose, the sharp glint of distaste in her eyes when she told me I stink.

Her voice echoed cruelly in my head. ''Instead of interrogating a poor, stinky servant, how about we go ahead with what brought us here, son?”

Humiliation burned through me all over again, and I shook my head vividly. I couldn’t risk another scene like that. I needed to be smarter and careful. ''Before the party is over, I will find a way to speak to him,'' I said to myself.

I glanced toward where Lola had been earlier, but she wasn’t there anymore. My frown deepened. I shook my head and turned back. The job Oliver had given me was still unfinished, and if he realized I had abandoned it, the consequences would be far worse than a few cruel words. Oliver didn’t ask for things twice; he demanded them.

As I took a step forward, I saw Lola, moving quickly toward me. Her face was pale, her eyes darting left and right as if she were expecting something or someone to leap out at her.

I took a glance around, scanning the crowd, but I didn’t see anyone following her. My brows furrowed. What could have her so rattled?

“Are you alright?” I asked the moment she reached my side.

“You have to leave now.” She blurted out, breathing heavily. “They’re going to search for you. I overheard the guards talking about it. I think they’ve realized you’re missing.”

My heart dropped into my stomach, and I flicked my eyes around quickly, and sure enough, I spotted them, two guards near the far corner, glancing around the room frantically. Another pair crossed the hall in the opposite direction, their gazes on faces and doorways.

Lola thrust something into my hands, a parcel wrapped in plain brown paper. “You can’t wear that and escape,” she said, glancing down at my servant’s attire. “You have to look like a guest.”

I swallowed hard, clutching the parcel to my chest. I opened my mouth to ask questions, but she cut me off, shaking her head profusely.

“This isn’t the time for interrogation, ma’am,” she said in a hushed rush. “You should leave while you can. If the guards don’t catch you, Mrs. Olivia, Leila, and Oliver will. Think about it.”

Her words sent a shiver down my spine, but I forced myself to remain calm. “That’s not the point,” I said quickly, stepping in front of her before she could move away. “I had a plan, and I wanted to talk to you about it.”

She hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly. “What sort of plan?”

“I'm thinking of calling the authorities,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I think they need their help.''

The expression on her face told me she didn’t like my idea one bit.

“That’s not a great plan, ma’am,” she finally said. “If the authorities come here, you can never predict the outcome, especially when it comes to Mrs. Wellington. She has ways of turning situations to her advantage.”

“But...” I began, but Lola interrupted me immediately, glancing around again. "They’re in a meeting right now, with an important guest. That’s the only reason you still have time. Leave now while you can.”

And just like that, she walked past me, her pace quickening until she disappeared into the crowd.

I stood there, clutching the parcel in my hands. My instinct screamed at me to run, to take her advice, change my clothes, and slip away before they found me. But another part of me, stubborn and aching, whispered that I shouldn't leave.

My mind began to race, and I shifted uncomfortably. "What if this is my only chance?" I asked myself, and suddenly my thoughts drifted back to Ernest. I looked toward the corridor he had disappeared into minutes ago, the memory of his touch still burning on my skin.