Grace silently and peacefully watched over her dad. The peaceful atmosphere was broken when there was a loud banging on the door.
She frowned slightly. "Who is it?" She demanded.
"Young Miss, your stepmother, stepsister and your... husband are here." It was the aunty from earlier.
Grace's frowned deeper, but she still picked her dress up before rising to her feet.
When she opened the door, she could see the panic on the aunty's face.
"They are... demanding to... see you," she stuttered, while pointing downstairs.
Grace suppressed the fury in her heart, and she left the room to the ground floor.
She hadn't completely descended down the stairs when she heard a mocking voice.
"If it isn't my fiancé who couldn't wait for thirty minutes?"
Grace's brows shot up instantly as she moved closer to him. Before anyone could understand what was happening, She had already landed a slap on his face.
Grace's palm stung from the impact of the slap, but she didn't flinch. She stood tall, watching Victor's head snap to the side, his expression frozen in disbelief.
The sharp sound of the slap echoed through the Donovan mansion's grand hall silencing every servant within earshot.
Her stepmother, Eleanor, covered her mouth in exaggerated shock. At her side, stepsister Clarissa's lips curved into a delighted smile filled with mockery and victory. Grace had just dug her own pit. She thought to herself.
Grace's breathing was steady, and her gaze was calm. She refused to let them see how fast her heart was pounding.
Victor staggered for a moment before his hand flew to his cheek, his eyes wild. "Did you just slap me?" His voice cracked, filled with rage as his eyes glared daggers at her.
Grace tilted her head, her tone dripping with scorn. "So what if I slapped you? If I'm given another opportunity, I'll gladly do it again." She ended her statement with a sneer.
Gasps rippled through the hall. A maid pressed herself against the wall, terrified the fight would find its way to her.
"You—" Victor pointed his trembling finger at her. His face burned red as he was overcome with humiliation.
His fiancée couldn't wait for just a few minutes, and she turned around and married another man. His pride shattered instantly and completely.
"Victor, enough," Eleanor stepped in. Her words were gentle but her eyes gleamed with unsaid maliciousness. She didn't mean to stop him. Instead, she wanted to see how far he would go.
Clarissa leaned closer to her mother, whispering audibly, "She has ruined his reputation already. Why not let him ruin her dignity too?"
Victor heard them. Their words fanned the flames inside him. His jaw clenched as he took two steps forward, closing the distance between himself and Grace. His hand shot out and clamped around her wrist.
Grace didn't have enough time to react. She sucked in a sharp breath, glaring at him. "Let go of me"
He smirked, squeezing tighter. "You think you can humiliate me and walk away unscathed? Grace, you were mine the moment you agreed to marry me. Don't think a single slap changes that."
Grace twisted her wrist, trying to break free. Her chest rose and fell quickly now, but she still carries her fierce and proud expression. "Don't touch me." She warned.
Victor yanked her closer, his voice low and venomous. "Do you know what people are saying outside? That you're pathetic. That your fiancé abandoned you. You think marrying a stranger saves face? No, Grace. You're nothing without me."
"Enough!" she snapped, struggling harder, the fabric of her gown rustling as she fought. "You're a coward, Victor. You didn't even dare to show your face at the altar!"
The slap had embarrassed him, but those words—those words pierced his pride like a blade. His face twisted, and he raised his free hand as though he wanted to return the earlier slap.
The servants gasped. Eleanor feigned a gasp too, though satisfaction flickered in her eyes. Clarissa smirked outright, as if enjoying a performance staged just for her.
Grace stiffened. She had prepared herself for a confrontation, but the threat of his raised hand still made her chest tighter.
She refused to close her eyes, refused to show fear, even as her wrist throbbed under his grip. She swallowed, but she didn't back down.
"Take your hands off her."
The voice sounded through the hall, low, deep, and unyielding.
The entire hall froze at the sound.
Victor's hand stopped midair. He turned his head toward the grand entrance of the Donovan mansion. Eleanor's smile faltered, Clarissa's expression froze, and the servants stiffened. Grace let out a subtle sigh of relief.
The man who had just walked in commanded aura just by his steps. His presence was sharp, dangerous, like a predator that had just entered enemy territory.
His tailored black suit was simple yet it emphasized the breadth of his shoulders. But it was his cold eyes that drew in everyone.
Adrian Blackwell. The man Grace had married earlier.
Victor's grip faltered instinctively, though he tried to hide it with a sneer. "And who the hell are you to interfere with what I do with my fiancé?"
Eleanor tried to signal to Victor. But unfortunately, he didn't see her desperate attempts.
Adrian didn't answer immediately. He walked forward slowly with each step of his deliberate. His gaze never left Victor's hand clutching Grace's wrist. His silence alone was suffocating.
Finally, he stopped a meter away, his voice low and lethal. "I'll only say this once. Let. Her. Go." His voice enunciated each word. The command in his tone was absolute, leaving no room for negotiation.
Victor's throat bobbed. He wanted to resist, but the weight of Adrian's gaze pressed down on him like an invisible hand around his throat. Unconsciously, he released Grace's wrist.
Grace stumbled back a step, quickly composing herself. She rubbed her wrist, the faint red marks absolutely clear on her pale wrist. Adrian's heart twisted at the red marks.
Her eyes flickered to Adrian in surprise. She didn't expect him to come to her house. Something about him tugged at a blurry part of her memories.
Victor tried to recover, puffing out his chest. "Don't act like some hero. She's my—"
"She's not yours," Adrian cut him off sharply, his voice as cold as ice. "And she never will be yours."
The servants exchanged bewildered glances. Eleanor's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing, unwilling to challenge the man whose aura screamed power. Clarissa bit her lip, her earlier smugness gone.
Victor's face turned crimson again. He pointed at Wallace with a trembling hand. "You think you can just walk in here and claim—"
Adrian's lips curled into a smile, but it wasn't warm. It was a warning. "Try raising your hand to her again, Victor. I'll break it for you."
The threat, although spoken so casually, sent chills through everyone present. Even Eleanor's fingers twitched against her gown. She believed that he would do as he said.
"He is telling the truth. This is the man Grace picked as her husband." Eleanor whispered.
Victor swallowed hard. His bravado cracked, and for the first time, he took a step back. His glare shifted between Grace and Adrian, hatred simmering, but he dared not act rashly.
Grace who was still catching her breath studied Adrian. She didn't expect him to be here, and also save her. But regardless of her confusion, her heart was beating very fastly.
She felt like she had seen him before, but it wasn't possible since she was sure today was the first time she had seen.
Adrian finally turned his head, his gaze softening only slightly when it met hers. "Are you all right?"
The question was simple, but something in the way he asked made her chest tighten. His voice sounded so protective, yet so certain.
"Mr. Blackwell," Eleanor stepped in. "This is just a little family matter. I'm sure you wouldn't want to dirty your hands with such matters." She said dryly.
Adrian arched a brow. "Since it is a family matter, it makes more sense for me to be here. She is... my wife after all."