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Past midnight, Nora Ashford was rushed to Meridian General, her husband's doing, as usual, since he never held back once the lights went out.
By morning, the nurses in the maternity wing were already whispering about how devoted President Pierce was to his wife. It was the kind of story the whole hospital knew by heart: three years ago, when Nora went blind and the Shaw family cast her aside without a second glance, Grant Pierce was the one who stepped forward, declared his feelings in front of everyone, and slid a ring onto her finger. Since that day, Grant had been the only solid ground left under her feet. But right now, Nora stood frozen outside a hospital room, her cane gripped so hard her knuckles had gone white, her whole body shaking. Only a door stood between them. Inside, Grant leaned against the cold wall, tired lines cutting into his handsome face. His hand drifted to the pack of cigarettes in his coat pocket, then stopped. Right. Hospital. "Grant." Marcus Wynn's voice was low, careful. "Nora's carrying your child now. If she stays blind and takes one bad fall, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. Let me arrange a cornea transplant for her." Grant's jaw tightened. He said nothing for a long moment. Then, flatly: "No." Marcus exhaled, and finally said the thing he'd swallowed for three years. "Her cornea damage wasn't from a brain hemorrhage pressing on her optic nerve. That was never true. Vivian needed a transplant after the accident, after she hit Nora with her car and you handed her Nora's eyes. There were donor matches after that, more than once. You turned every one of them down. You'd rather keep your own wife in the dark for the rest of her life than risk Vivian's happiness. Tell me I'm wrong." He wasn't wrong. As long as Nora couldn't see, she could never stand in Vivian's way again. Grant slid his hands into his pockets, his voice quiet, almost apologetic. "Vivian never married me. Doesn't matter. I promised I'd look after her for life, and I intend to keep that promise. As for Nora, she lost Julian because of all this. I've given her everything else instead. My name, my time, my life. That should be enough to settle the debt." Marcus felt something twist in his chest. "Is she really worth this, Grant? A woman who doesn't even love you back? Do you understand what you're risking? Your condition makes fatherhood a near-impossibility for you, this pregnancy is a miracle, and you're gambling with it for Vivian's sake?" Something flickered across Grant's face, there and gone. "If Nora stays blind her whole life, I'll take care of her for the rest of mine. And I will make absolutely sure this baby is safe. That's my answer, Marcus. Drop it." Outside the door, Nora's vision blurred with tears that had nowhere to go. Her hand shook so badly she could barely hold the cane upright. When she heard footsteps approaching, she stumbled back toward her bed, pulled the blanket up to her chin, and forced her breathing to slow. By the time the door opened, she looked like a woman fast asleep. Grant crossed the room. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from her face, so gentle, so practiced. Nora went rigid beneath the blanket. Every soft touch that used to feel like tenderness now felt like a blade sliding between her ribs. It hurt to breathe. Only after his footsteps faded down the hall did she let her eyes open. Tears slid silently down her temples. She bit down on her lip to keep from making a sound. So this was it. The love she'd built her entire life around, the love she'd been so certain had saved her, was nothing but a performance. A smokescreen for another woman. And her eyes. Her actual eyes. He'd given them away himself. Grant Pierce. How could you. Three years of marriage, and it all came down to this: she'd been the punchline of someone else's love story the entire time. Something inside her chest cracked clean through. --- Half an hour later, Nora made her way down the corridor, one palm trailing the wall, the other gripping her cane. Just as the hallway opened into a wider space, something made her turn her head toward him, without meaning to. Blindness had sharpened everything else about her. She caught his scent before she ever heard his voice. Grant stood a few meters off, phone pressed to his ear. When he spotted her, he wrapped up the call quickly and walked over. Grant Pierce refined, composed, unfailingly gracious. Back when Nora could still see, her very first impression of him had been exactly that: a man built from elegance, every motion deliberate and polished. He took her hand out of habit, his voice warm as ever. "What are you doing out of bed? Your hands are freezing. Didn't your aunt know to bring you a heavier coat in this weather?" Nora stared past him into empty space and pulled her hand back almost instantly. Grant's brow creased. "What's wrong? Did something upset you?" He stepped in behind her, arms circling her shoulders, his familiar warmth pressing close. "Who made my wife unhappy? Just say the word, I'll deal with them." Something in Nora ached at that. Grant. What if it's you? She let herself tremble against him for one more second before pulling herself together and turning to face him. "The nurse told me I'm pregnant. This is your fault, keeping me up all night like that. What if something happens to the baby" "Don't say that." His voice sharpened instantly. "Our child will be fine. Healthy. Nothing is going to happen to this baby, Nora. I won't allow it." He'd always been like this, composed and courtly in public, nothing short of relentless behind closed doors. Nora used to tell herself that even without love, he must at least want her, in whatever narrow way a body can be wanted without the heart attached. That was the quiet cruelty of men like him. They could separate the two so easily. "I'm sorry," Grant murmured against her hair. "I didn't know. Don't be upset, it's not good for you right now." Still so gentle. Still so convincing. All of it just window dressing to keep her calm, keep her compliant, keep her from ever becoming a problem for the woman he actually loved. As long as she loved him blindly enough, she'd never get in Vivian's way. Nora swallowed against the bitterness rising in her throat and made herself smile. "Grant. Do you think we'll ever get divorced?" His expression shut down like a door slamming. Panic, real panic, flickered somewhere behind his eyes at the word. "What did you just say?" Nora kept smiling, chin lifted. "I just mean do you think we'll end up like all those couples who fall apart eventually? Is that where we're headed?" His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her flush against him. "Nora Ashford. I am never letting you go. Not now, not ever." Why not? Are you afraid I'll wreck Vivian's happy ending? Or is it just that easy for you to love her and keep me anyway? Nora pressed her lips together and said nothing. But what was there left to do? She didn't want him. Not anymore. She didn't want any of this. Still, there were things she needed to take care of first. Everyone who had hurt her was going to pay for it. Every single one.Nora looked at Weston in surprise, his hand frozen awkwardly midair unable to complete the gesture, unable to withdraw it either."Mr. Blackwood," she said, confused. "What exactly is this?"A short distance behind him, Nash fought back a laugh. What could the Second Master possibly be thinking right now? Jealousy, obviously.Weston's possessive streak was well documented at this point of course he couldn't stomach someone else touching Nora's hand in front of him. Not even a handshake.Weston, entirely unbothered, pressed forward smoothly. "Ms. Amanda. You're really choosing someone else this easily? No interest in reconsidering me instead?"Their eyes locked, and Nora's brow creased slightly.Has he developed a taste for theatrics?Fine. Two could play that game and Nora's performance skills were nothing to scoff at.She yanked her hand free and let her mouth curl into contempt. "Not a chance. What possible good could come from someone who keeps company with Grant Pierce?"Something
The gentle weight of that sentence stirred something unexpected in Nora's chest.Over the years, she'd weathered more than most people could imagine, and not once had anyone thought to ask whether it had been hard on her. She'd never even let herself sit with the question.And today, of all people, it's him who asks.Was it hard?Yes. Unbearably so, most days.I've fought for every inch of this.Her brow furrowed, something unfamiliar rising and threatening to spill over. She steadied herself, and when she pushed back against Weston this time, whatever mist had gathered in her eyes had already cleared.Composed again, gaze level, she was fully herself once more unshakeable."This is the road under my feet. I walk it no matter what it costs."Weston held her gaze, his calm exterior masking something aching underneath. He slid his hands into his pockets and smiled. "I know."---They parted ways in the parking lot. The moment Weston got into his car, he called Nash.He sat watching Nora
The crowd froze.Every eye turned toward Vivian as she walked forward with deliberate grace.Her sight had deteriorated significantly, thick glasses perched on her nose now. She held a microphone in one hand and waved a stack of printed documents overhead with the other.She reached the center of the stage and stopped, finger pointed directly at Nora. "This woman Nora Ashford is the illegitimate daughter of my father and our household's nanny. Her mother knew exactly what she was doing. She stole eighteen years of both our lives, deliberately, with full knowledge of what she was doing to this family.""Ten years ago, her biological mother was arrested and imprisoned. I'm asking all of you what right does a woman born from an affair, raised by a convicted criminal, have to stand on this stage and present herself as some kind of success story? This is an insult to every person in this room."Vivian scattered copies of Helen's prison records across the venue, alongside the paternity test
Several days later.Weston's injuries had nearly fully healed. He stood in front of the French windows, fastening the last button on his shirt while Nash held out his suit jacket.Straightening his collar, Weston listened as Nash chattered beside him. "Second Master, word is Anchor Line Shipping is planning to sell off thirty percent of their stake in Harborcrest Docks. People in the industry are saying some painter-turned-businesswoman bit off more than she could chew switching into shipping. Honestly, it wouldn't be shocking if she couldn't make it work."Weston clipped on his sapphire cufflinks, mouth curving into something mocking. "A room full of idiots."Nash blinked. "How's that idiocy? If you ask me, Ms. Ashford did well just wrestling Harborcrest away from Grant Pierce in the first place. My guess is Kensington Bank's interest rate finally caught up with her overestimated what she could handle, and now she's boxed in. Should we step in and help her, Second Master?"Weston's m
That answer genuinely caught Grant off guard.A man like Weston Blackwood, with a lover? Whoever she is, I almost feel sorry for her.Grant managed a dismissive smile. "Alright, then."---Miles called a driver for the group. He took the front passenger seat while Nora and Bea settled into the back.The moment the car started moving, Bea slumped against Nora's shoulder, fast asleep. The whole ride, Nora kept her phone lit up, messages flying back and forth with Weston.She'd asked after his injury first, relieved to hear back that he was fine.Then came the real news: the woman he'd been asked to track down had been found, matching every detail Nora had specified, appearance and build both.Relief flooded through her, impossible to fully hide.[Weston, thank you.]Only fair, Miss Amanda. No need to thank me.She set the phone down, mood lifted and it buzzed again seconds later.Another message from Weston. For what it's worth, from what I observed tonight Grant Pierce isn't as good-lo
Soft, carrying that particular scent that was unmistakably Weston, folding into her breath.Nora froze. Whether it was the alcohol slowing her reflexes or something else entirely, she didn't react right away.Then came the sensation she'd only ever experienced in a dream Weston, helplessly, deepening it.Nora snapped back to herself and shoved him away hard.A muffled groan escaped him, his hand flying to press against his left side on instinct.Too late, Nora remembered the injury her shove had clearly aggravated the wound.Worry flickered through her, though she said nothing about it.Weston caught his breath for a few seconds, studying her cheeks flushed a captivating pink, lips kissed red and full, more tempting than fruit freshly picked. His throat worked as he registered the faint trace of wine still lingering on her mouth, and even his usual composure seemed to momentarily fail him.The man who'd stumbled into him stammered an apology from the doorway of the men's room. "Sorry







