ログイン*Grace's POV*
I stared blindly at the ceiling of the guest bedroom.The heavy, suffocating memory of Alexander’s storm-gray eyes in the dark SUV replayed in my mind on a continuous loop.*“What are you hiding from me, Grace?”*My stomach twisted into sick, heavy knots. I rolled over and buried my face in the soft pillows. My entire body physically ached. My knees were deeply bruised from kneeling on the hard marble floor. My arms felt*Grace’s POV*The words hung in the cold kitchen air like lead. *“He has already rushed him to the VIP medical unit.”*My breath hitched, catching in the center of my throat. My father had suffered blood pressure spikes before—that fragile cardiovascular system was the reason this entire marriage existed in the first place. But he had stabilized I knew he hadHe had spent nights in hospital beds before. He had always pulled through. *They caught it early,* I told myself fiercely, my mind latching onto every scrap of clinical logic I possessed. *He was at Richard’s estate. The response time was immediate.*"Grace." Alexander’s voice was low, cutting through the sudden static ringing in my ears. I looked down at my hands. My gloves were still stained with Alexander's blood. I ripped them off, tossed them into the waste bin, and turned on the faucet. I scrubbed the brown antiseptic and crimson from my skin with scalding water, watching the water swirl down the stainless steel d
*Grace’s POV*It was 2:14 in the morning, and sleep had never felt further away.It was not just the memory of the terrace keeping me awake. It was not just the ghost of Alexander’s mouth hovering an inch from mine, or the raw rasp of his voice when he snarled, *“Damn the contract.”*It was a cold, suffocating weight sitting directly over my lungs. A terrible, heavy intuition had settled into my gut the moment we left the gala,a dark, sinking dread that whispered something was going to happen. I stood barefoot on the cold tile of the fortress kitchen, wrapping both hands around a tall glass of ice water. The fortress was completely silent. The only illumination came from the amber glow beneath the range hood, casting long, sharp shadows across the white marble island. *Thud.*A dull, uneven impact rattled the reinforced steel door connecting the private motor pool to the kitchen corridor. I jumped, water sloshing over the rim of my glass. *Click. Whir.*The door swung inward,
*Alexander’s POV*The freezing rain fell in thick, blinding sheets over the industrial graveyard of the Anacostia rail yards.It drummed violently against the reinforced roof of the black tactical transport. Inside the cabinn, the only light came from the dim red glow of the weapons rack.I checked the chamber of my suppressed sidearm. The cold steel clicked into battery with a sharp, mechanical snap."Perimeter at the estate is completely locked down, Commander," Ethan’s voice came over the low-frequency link. "Miller just checked in from the master gate. Mrs. Reeves is asleep in the guest wing. She is guarded by six sentries."The mention of her name sent a dull, heavy shockwave straight through my sternum.*Mrs. Reeves.*She had looked at me in that emerald silk gown as if I were a ghost. She had looked at me as if I were a monster who had torn her world apart with cold, calculating hands.*How could you touch me like that?*Her voice refused to leave my head. It battered again
*Grace’s POV*The grand ballroom of the Congressional Hall was an opulent nightmare. Towering gilded archways stretched toward ceilings painted with historical battle scenes. Massive crystal chandeliers cast a glittering, golden light over the room, reflecting off diamond necklaces, champagne flutes, and the polished brass buttons of high-ranking military officials. Every single conversation in our vicinity dwindled to a murmur the moment Alexander walked in. He didn't just enter a room; he claimed it. His presence was suffocating. Even among senators, ambassadors, and four-star admirals, Alexander Reeves was an apex predator who operated in a league entirely of his own. And I was trapped right in his orbit. True to my words in the foyer, I played my part. I stood beside him near the carved marble fireplace, holding a glass of sparkling water with both hands just to stop my fingers from trembling. Whenever a foreign dignitary or cabinet member approached, I offered a soft, reh
*Grace’s POV*My hands shook so violently I could barely fasten the silver clasp of my emerald necklace.On the dresser beside me, resting on a velvet tray, was the stethoscope Alexander had given me. *Nurse Grace Reeves.*The sight of it sent a dull, throbbing ache straight through the center of my ribs. I turned my back on it, staring into the full-length mirror. The emerald silk dress hugged my frame before cascading in heavy, liquid folds down to the carpet. My bare shoulders felt cold in the quiet of my room. My hair was swept up into a soft, textured chignon, leaving my throat and collarbone entirely exposed. I looked like a general’s wife. I felt like an empty shell.*Knock. Knock.*Two sharp, precise raps echoed against the heavy wood of my bedroom door. My pulse spiked instantly, a chaotic rhythm pounding in my ears. I took a slow, deliberate breath, forced my shoulders back, and walked across the room. I turned the brass knob and opened the door.Alexander stood in
*Alexander’s POV*The fortress was a tomb.It had been four days since I broke my wife’s heart in the library, four days since my own hand had deliberately snuffed out the only real warmth I had ever known.I stood in the massive kitchen at 0600 hours, staring blankly down at the pristine white marble island.Every single morning for the past few months, Grace had been awake before the sun. She would stand right here by the counter, wrapped in one of her ridiculously oversized cream sweaters, her messy morning curls falling over her shoulder as she waited for her tea to steep. She would offer me a soft, shy smile,the kind that effortlessly settled the violent, jagged noise in my head, a noise I had carried with me through decades of war and classified debriefings.Today, the kitchen was completely, hauntingly empty.There was no steam rising from a ceramic mug. There was no sweet scent of vanilla and chamomile. There was only the sterile hum of the refrigerator and the dead weight of







