Grace found her father in his office on the ground floor of the mansion, just as she knew she would. Jonathan Reed spent most of his time here, behind his mahogany desk with its view of the city he no longer controlled. The office smelled like whiskey and regret, though Grace wouldn't understand the second part until much later.
She didn't knock. Her hands were still shaking. Tears had dried on her cheeks, leaving her skin tight and raw.
"Dad," she said. Her voice sounded like someone else's. Someone broken.
Jonathan looked up from his computer, irritated at the interruption. He was a tall man with graying hair and eyes that had forgotten how to look soft. He'd forgotten how to look at his daughter like she mattered, somewhere between when her mother died and when he married Helena.
"Grace. I'm in the middle of something."
She opened her mouth. Closed it. How did she say this? How did she tell him that his business deal, the one he'd been so proud of, the merger that was supposed to save Reed Industries, was built on a lie?
"Marcus," she started, and her voice cracked. "Marcus and Vivian, they..."
Jonathan's expression shifted. Not to concern. To confusion, like she was speaking a language he didn't understand.
"They've been together. For over a year. I found them in your study. They said..." Grace couldn't finish. The words felt too heavy.
For a moment, Jonathan just stared at her. Then he stood up from his desk, slowly, deliberately, like he was giving himself time to understand what his daughter had just said. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. That was worse than if he'd shouted.
"You found them in my study."
"Yes. I came home early to show Marcus the wedding venues and—"
"And you're telling me this now?" Jonathan's voice rose. "Three weeks before the wedding, you're telling me about this now?"
Grace stepped backward. "I just found out. An hour ago. I'm telling you as soon as I could."
"An hour?" Jonathan moved around his desk toward her, and Grace's instinct was to make herself smaller, to apologize, to disappear. "You've known for an hour and didn't come find me immediately? Grace, do you understand what's happening here? Do you have any idea what the Ashford investment means for this company?"
The company. Of course. That's what this was about.
"I do, but Dad, I—"
"You drove him away," Jonathan said. The words landed like a slap. "That's what happened. You drove Marcus away."
"What? No, I didn't. He was sleeping with Vivian—"
"Because you're boring!" Jonathan's voice echoed through the mansion. Grace flinched. "You've always been boring, Grace. Quiet, plain, never standing up for yourself, never saying what you actually want. What man wants that? What man chooses that?"
Grace's mouth opened. She wanted to argue. She wanted to scream that none of this was her fault. But her whole life had taught her not to do those things. Her whole life had been preparation for this moment, standing in front of her father and accepting blame that wasn't hers.
"You need to call Marcus," Jonathan continued, returning to his desk like the conversation was already over. "Apologize. Tell him you understand why he was unhappy and that you're willing to work on being better. Better for him. Better for this family. Better for the company."
"I won't do that."
The words came out before Grace could stop them. They hung in the air between them, shocking both of them equally.
Jonathan's hand froze on his desk. "What did you say?"
"I won't apologize for something he did. I won't take responsibility for his infidelity. That's not fair."
"Fair?" Jonathan laughed, but it was a harsh, terrible sound. "Life isn't fair, Grace. Business isn't fair. And right now, fairness is a luxury we cannot afford. Reed Industries is hemorrhaging money. The Ashford investment is the only thing keeping us alive. So you will call Marcus. You will apologize. You will do whatever it takes to save this family."
The door opened. Helena appeared, Grace's stepmother, with Vivian just behind her. They looked concerned. They looked sympathetic. They looked like actresses playing the parts of people who cared.
"We heard shouting," Helena said softly, placing a hand on Jonathan's shoulder. "Is everything alright?"
Jonathan gestured to Grace like she was Exhibit A in a courtroom. "Tell them what you just told me."
Grace's eyes met Vivian's across the room. Her stepsister didn't look ashamed. She looked curious, like she was waiting to see how Grace would handle this, like it was all a game to her.
"I found Marcus and Vivian together," Grace said quietly. "They've been having an affair for over a year."
Helena's eyes widened. Vivian's mouth fell open in that practiced way of someone who'd rehearsed shock in the mirror. They were good, both of them. So good that for a second, Grace wondered if she was the one who was crazy. If she'd imagined what she'd seen.
"Oh my God," Vivian breathed, stepping forward. "Grace, I'm so sorry. It wasn't planned. It was just an accident of passion. We didn't mean for it to happen."
An accident. Like they'd tripped and fallen into each other. Like it had occurred once, not repeatedly, not for a year, not while Marcus was buying Grace an engagement ring and planning a wedding.
"It was a mistake," Vivian continued, tears forming in her eyes. Where had she learned to cry on command? "I feel terrible. I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted any of this."
Except she had. Grace could see it in the way Vivian wouldn't quite meet her gaze, in the way she positioned herself next to Helena like she was the precious daughter, the one worth protecting. Vivian had wanted all of it. She'd wanted Marcus. She'd wanted to prove she could take things from Grace. She'd wanted to win.
"This is about the company," Grace said. Her voice was different now. Quieter, but harder. "This isn't about what Marcus did or didn't do to me. This is about money."
"Of course it's about the money," Jonathan snapped. "Everything in life is about money, Grace. You're old enough to understand that. You're twenty-six years old. You should know by now that feelings don't matter. Survival matters. The company matters. Our family's future matters."
"And I don't," Grace said.
Jonathan didn't respond. He just turned back to his desk, dismissing her.
"You'll call Marcus tomorrow," he said to the leather chair, not to his daughter. "You'll make this work. I don't care what you have to do. Apologize. Beg. Get him back if you have to. Make the Ashford deal happen, or Reed Industries dies, and this family dies with it."
Helena squeezed Jonathan's shoulder. Vivian looked at Grace with something that might have been pity or might have been victory. Grace couldn't tell the difference anymore.
She turned to leave the office.
"Grace," Jonathan called after her, and for a moment, she thought maybe he would say something kind. Maybe he would apologize for blaming her. Maybe he would tell her that what happened wasn't her fault, that she was loved regardless of her usefulness.
"Don't make a scene about this," he said instead. "When people ask, tell them you and Marcus had a simple disagreement. Nothing dramatic. Do you understand? I don't want anyone in Manhattan thinking our family is anything less than stable."
Grace nodded. She understood perfectly.
She understood that her worth to her father was measured in business deals. She understood that her pain didn't matter as much as his profit. She understood that she had a choice to make, right here, right now, in this moment.
She could go upstairs and call Marcus. She could apologize for being boring. She could spend the rest of her life making herself smaller and smaller until she disappeared completely.
Or she could do something else.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out to see a text from an unknown number: "Miss Grace Reed? This is Sebastian Sterling's office. We need to discuss a business proposal. Your father gave us this number. When can you meet?"
Grace read the message three times. She had no idea who Sebastian Sterling was or what proposal her father could have possibly discussed without her knowledge.
But standing in her childhood home, surrounded by people who saw her as nothing more than a bargaining chip, she suddenly understood.
Her father had already sold her.