บททั้งหมดของ The Stranger At The Altar : บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

Grace's hands wouldn’t stop trembling.The tiny room felt smaller with every passing minute, as if the walls were inching closer, trying to crush the air out of her lungs. A flickering overhead bulb buzzed like an insect trapped in amber, casting jagged shadows across the floor. The silence wasn't peaceful—it was full with dread.She paced across the cracked linoleum floor, her phone gripped tightly in one hand like a lifeline. The other hand kept curling and uncurling against her chest, her fingernails digging into the cotton of her sweater as if pressure could keep the panic inside.Luna's voice still echoed in her ears.“Grace?”It had been cautious. Raw. Laced with disbelief, but undeniably familiar.Hearing her again had felt like stepping barefoot into a memory—painful, but grounding.“She remembered the lullaby,” Grace whispered, half to herself. “She remembered the hummingbird…”“You did the right thing.”The voice came from the corner of the room. Soft. Steady. Wrapped in sha

The phone slipped from Luna's trembling fingers. The gunshot echoed in her mind like a death knell."Grace!" She dove for the phone, pressing it against her ear. Static. Silence. Nothing.Grayson caught her as her knees buckled. "Luna, what happened?""She's... the gunshot... Grace is..." The words fractured in her throat. Her sister's final warning replayed endlessly: Don't trust anyone. Not even—"Breathe." Grayson's hands framed her face. "Tell me what you heard.""I think they found her." Luna's voice broke. "someone shot her, Grayson. My sister is— I think she was shot. She might be dead."The words hung in the air like shattered glass. Grayson pulled her against his chest, but Luna felt hollow. Empty. Grace had reached out after decades of silence, only to be murdered within hours."We don't know that," Grayson said quietly. "The call could have—""I heard it." Luna pushed away from him, fury replacing grief. "The gunshot. Her voice stopping mid-sentence. She was trying to warn

Luna paced the penthouse like a caged animal, her bare feet silent against the marble. Every few minutes, she stopped at the window, staring out at the city lights like they might somehow reveal where Grace was. Her phone sat on the coffee table, silent. Mocking.“She’s dead because of me,” Luna whispered for the hundredth time. “I should’ve left her alone.”Grayson stood in the kitchen doorway, watching her unravel. He’d made coffee they wouldn’t drink, toast they wouldn’t touch. The normalcy felt obscene when Grace might be bleeding out somewhere in the city.“Luna, you don’t know that she’s—”“I heard the gunshot.” She spun on him, eyes blazing. “I heard it, Grayson. And then... nothing. Just silence.”He approached slowly, like she might break or bolt. “Marcus said there was blood, but no body. That could mean—”“That someone took her corpse?” Luna laughed, sharp and bitter. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”Grayson stopped just short of touching her. His hands clenched at

Luna stood frozen as the elevator doors opened with a soft chime. A woman stepped out—elegant, silver-haired, wearing a tailored coat that spoke of wealth and refinement. Her face was lined with years of carefully hidden pain, and her eyes held secrets that seemed to weigh her down. "Mrs. Vaughn," the woman said, her voice steady but gentle. "My name is Eleanor Vaughn. I believe we need to talk." Grayson went rigid beside Luna. "Aunt Eleanor?" The woman's gaze shifted to him, and something flickered across her face—regret, perhaps, or sorrow. "Hello, Grayson. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to come forward." Luna's mind reeled. This was Grayson's aunt—the woman Marcus had mentioned in connection with Langley Holdings, the mysterious company tied to all their troubles. But why was she here? And why now? "You said you have information about my sister," Luna said, her voice barely above a whisper. "About Grace. And my mother." Eleanor nodded slowly. "I do. But what I have t

The boardroom at Vaughn Industries didn’t feel like a room for business that morning—it felt like a battlefield. The sleek glass walls, once a symbol of transparency and strength, now seemed to trap the pressure inside like a boiling kettle.Grayson sat at the head of the long, mahogany table, his knuckles pale against the armrests. His usually composed face was a mask of tension. He hadn’t slept well. He hadn’t eaten. His thoughts were split between Luna’s mother—who had miraculously begun showing signs of life after two decades—and the slow, quiet war being waged against his family’s empire.The air was thick with stress. No one reached for the complimentary water bottles or the black coffee steaming in porcelain cups. Not today.Marcus cleared his throat and slid a dark blue folder across the table. “Blackstone Capital just acquired another twelve percent of our outstanding shares.”Grayson’s eyes snapped to the document, but he didn’t touch it. His jaw tensed. “That brings them to