Chapter 6 - THE RETREAT
The police arrived within ten minutes. The flashing blue and red lights illuminated the stained glass windows of the grand venue, casting an eerie glow over the ruined reception.
Guests were hastily ushered out, whispering feverishly to the press who had gathered at the barricades outside. Vanessa and Cole were led away in handcuffs, their faces buried to hide from the flashing cameras.
In the center of the empty, wrecked ballroom, Ethan Caldwell stood amid the shattered glass, overturned chairs, and abandoned bouquets. He rubbed his temples, a massive migraine building behind his eyes. The adrenaline had faded, leaving only a hollow, echoing emptiness.
He turned to look for Grace.
She was gone.
The bucket was still there. The puddle had dried into a sticky stain on the marble. But the woman who had saved his life, the woman who had inadvertently saved him from throwing his life away a second time, had vanished.
“Marcus!” Ethan shouted, panic rising in his chest. “Where is she? Where is Grace?”
Marcus rushed back into the room. “Sir, the temporary staff were evacuated through the loading dock when the police arrived. She must have slipped out with them.”
“Find her!” Ethan commanded, his voice desperate. “Get the agency records. Get her address. I don't care what it costs, track her down right now!”
Miles away, the sharp wind of Chicago was howling through the cracked windows of a rusted city bus. Grace Morgan sat in the very back, staring blankly at the flickering streetlights passing by.
She felt completely numb. Her shoulder throbbed with a relentless, biting ache. The events of the evening played over and over in her mind like a fever dream. She had seen Ethan. He was alive. He was strong. He had built an empire, just as he used to tell her he would while they were trapped in the dark all those years ago.
That was enough for her.
She didn't want his pity. She didn't want his money. She had done what was right, and she had paid the price, but seeing him alive validated every ounce of her suffering.
The bus lurched to a stop at her corner on the South Side. Grace pulled her thin coat tighter and stepped out into the freezing night. The walk to her apartment building felt longer than usual. The neighborhood was grim, lined with boarded-up storefronts and overflowing dumpsters.
She climbed the four flights of stairs, her knees popping with every step. When she reached her door, the bright pink eviction notice was still taped to the wood, glaring at her in the dim hallway light.
May you like
Grace sighed, reaching up to peel the paper off the door. She unlocked the deadbolt and stepped inside her freezing, studio apartment. She didn't bother turning on the lights. She just walked to her small, lumpy mattress on the floor, sat down, and finally let the tears fall.
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