Grace's POV
Senator Mitchell is lying and Grace knows it.
He's sitting across from her in the committee room talking about environmental regulations like he actually cares about the planet. Like he didn't spend the last month accepting donations from oil companies. Grace has the receipts printed out in front of her. She's read every page of the bill three times. She knows which parts are designed to help big business and which parts are supposed to help people.
She raises her hand and waits to be called on.
Mitchell keeps talking. He's not expecting her to challenge him. Nobody challenges Senator Mitchell. He's been in politics for thirty years. He's been in this room longer than Grace has been alive. But Grace doesn't care about that.
The committee chairman nods at her. It's her turn.
"Senator Mitchell," Grace says quietly. Her voice is calm and clear but it cuts through the room like a knife. "You mentioned that this bill will protect small businesses. But section four specifically exempts any company with revenue over fifty million dollars from the regulations you just described. Can you explain how that protects small business when the largest companies get the biggest break?"
Mitchell's face gets red. He's not used to being questioned. He's used to people accepting what he says just because he's been around longer.
Grace waits. She doesn't argue. She doesn't raise her voice. She just waits for him to answer a question he can't answer without lying or admitting he didn't read his own bill.
The room is quiet. Everyone is watching. This is what Grace does. She asks questions that make people uncomfortable. She reads bills that most senators don't bother with. She votes based on what's actually written, not what it sounds like.
Mitchell stammers something about economic impact. Grace smiles slightly and takes notes. By tonight, someone is going to call a news station and repeat exactly what she just said. By tomorrow, Mitchell's credibility will be damaged. By next week, everyone will know he was trying to hide something.
This is how Grace works now. She doesn't yell or fight. She just reveals the truth and lets the truth do the fighting for her.
The meeting ends an hour later. Grace's staff is waiting outside the room. Young people who believe in what she believes in. People who left better jobs to work for someone they thought was worth believing in.
"That was brilliant," her assistant Marcus says as they walk down the hallway. "Mitchell's going to be mad."
"Mitchell's going to be careful next time," Grace says. "That's the point."
Her office is on the third floor. Big windows. Nicer than it was when she started. Five years ago she was in a tiny room that smelled like old carpet. Now she has actual space. Now people know who she is.
She sits at her desk and reads emails. Bills waiting for her attention. Constituents asking for help. Other senators asking for her vote on things they care about.
Grace reads everything. She votes carefully. She doesn't trade favors. She doesn't make deals behind closed doors. She makes decisions based on principles and people respect that even when they disagree with her.
Her phone rings.
It's Claire. Of course it's Claire. Claire is the only person from her old life who knows where Grace is. Claire found her two years after Grace disappeared. Showed up at her law school with food and refused to leave. It took Grace three hours to tell Claire everything. It took Claire about five minutes to decide they were friends again.
Now Claire is a lawyer. Successful. Happy. And completely aware that Grace is hiding from something. But Claire doesn't push. She just shows up when Grace needs her.
"Hi," Grace says.
"You're working," Claire says. It's not a question. Claire always knows.
"I'm always working."
"Exactly," Claire says. "And that's why you need to come to the Morrison Charity Gala tonight. It's good for your image."
Grace closes her eyes. The Morrison Gala. It's one of those events where rich people dress up and pretend to care about charity. Grace has been to hundreds of them in the last five years. They're exhausting. They're also necessary if she wants to stay in politics.
"Claire, I have work."
"Grace, you're thirty-two years old and you've been working nonstop for five years," Claire says. "You need to be seen. You need people to remember that you're human. You need to exist in spaces that aren't about bills and committees."
Grace knows Claire is right. That's the annoying thing about Claire. She's always right about this stuff.
"What time," Grace asks.
"Eight," Claire says. "I'll pick you up. Wear something that doesn't look like you stole it from a senator's closet."
Grace laughs. She doesn't laugh often. But Claire makes her laugh.
After they hang up, Grace tries to work but she can't focus. The gala is tonight. Just a charity event. Just a room full of powerful people trying to feel good about themselves. She's been to a hundred of them.
But something in her is nervous. Something feels different about tonight.
She ignores the feeling and keeps working.
At seven-thirty, she goes home. Her apartment is small and clean and doesn't look like anyone actually lives in it. It looks like a hotel. Like a place someone is passing through. Grace likes it that way. She doesn't want to be too comfortable. Comfort makes you soft. Soft makes you vulnerable.
She showers and changes into a black dress. Simple. Elegant. Nothing flashy. She fixes her hair. Minimal makeup. She looks like a senator. Like someone people respect. Like someone who would never fall apart in a car in a torn white dress.
That person is dead. Grace killed her five years ago.
The woman in the mirror is someone new. Someone stronger. Someone colder. Someone who doesn't need anyone.
Claire arrives at exactly eight. She's wearing red and she looks beautiful and happy. Claire has always known how to be happy. Grace sometimes thinks that's Claire's superpower.
"You look good," Claire says. "Powerful. Cold. Like you're about to make someone's night terrible."
"I'm going to a charity gala," Grace says.
"You're going to one of the most important social events of the year where every powerful person in the city shows up," Claire corrects. "You're going to network. You're going to be seen. You're going to remind people why they respect you."
The gala is at the Morrison Hotel. It's huge and beautiful and full of people who matter. Grace has prepared herself for this. She knows how to smile. How to have conversations. How to make people feel like she's listening even when she's calculating their political position in her head.
She walks in with Claire and the party is in full swing.
Champagne. Music. People laughing. Money everywhere. It smells like flowers and expensive perfume. Grace has been to a thousand events just like this.
And then everything stops.
Grace's breath catches in her throat.
Across the room, standing by the bar with a drink in his hand, is someone she hasn't seen in five years.
Ryan Steel.
He looks older. Harder. There's something tired about him that wasn't there before. Something broken. He's wearing a suit that costs more than Grace's monthly rent. His hair is darker. His face is sharper. But it's him.
It's actually him.
For a moment Grace can't move. Can't breathe. Can't think about anything except the last time she saw him standing at an altar with Isabella.
Ryan looks up.
Their eyes meet across the room.
Grace's entire body goes cold.
But she doesn't run. She doesn't freeze. She doesn't let anything show on her face. She learned how to hide five years ago. She learned how to keep her expression blank even when her insides are screaming. She smiles at the person next to her and turns away.
But she can feel it. She can feel him watching her. She can feel him realizing something. She can feel gravity shifting in the room.
Claire squeezes her arm. She whispers, "Grace, is that..."
"Don't," Grace says quietly. "Don't look. Don't point. Don't say his name."
But it's too late.
Ryan is moving.
He's excusing himself from Isabella. Isabella is with him. Isabella is still beautiful. Isabella still looks bored like being Mrs. Ryan Steel was a disappointment.
Ryan is moving through the crowd toward Grace and there's nothing she can do to stop him.
He reaches her just as she's trying to disappear into the back room.
"Grace," he says and his voice is exactly like she remembers. Deep. Careful. Like he's always measuring his words.
Grace turns around. She looks at him with eyes that show nothing.
"Hello, Ryan," she says coldly. "It's been a long time."
"I need to talk to you," he says.
And Grace knows right then that tonight is going to change everything.
Everything she built in five years is about to get complicated.