Ryan
Ryan's penthouse had never felt this empty.
He walked through the door with Grace trailing behind him. Three in the morning. His father was dead. The medical records proving Charles's sanity were stolen. In six hours they had a court hearing that would decide everything.
And Ryan had no idea how to win.
"This way," he said, leading Grace down the hallway. His voice sounded hollow even to himself.
Grace followed silently. She'd barely spoken since they left the hospital. Just sat in the car staring at nothing while Ryan made calls to lawyers who had no good answers.
The stolen records were a disaster. Without proof of Charles's mental competency, Derek's psychiatrists would testify unchallenged. The judge would rule Charles was delusional from cancer. The will would be thrown out.
Everything Ryan fought for would go to Derek.
He stopped at the third door on the left. "This is your room."
Grace looked at the door like it might bite her.
"I know it's been a long night," Ryan continued. "But you should try to sleep. We have court at nine."
"I won't be able to sleep."
"Try anyway. You'll need your strength tomorrow." He opened the door and turned on the light.
The bedroom was huge. King bed, walk-in closet, bathroom bigger than most apartments. Floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city. Everything expensive and perfect and cold.
Grace walked in slowly, looking around like she'd entered a stranger's house.
"Your clothes are in the closet," Ryan said. "James had everything moved from your apartment this afternoon. Bathroom's through there. If you need anything, my room is at the end of the hall."
Grace nodded but didn't respond. She touched the silk bedspread, the expensive lamp, the designer chair by the window. Every touch was hesitant, like she was afraid to break something.
"Do you always live like this?" she asked quietly.
Ryan didn't understand the question. "Like what?"
"Alone in a museum."
The words hit harder than they should have. Ryan looked around the room seeing it through Grace's eyes. Everything was perfect. Nothing was personal. No photos, no memories, no sign anyone actually lived here.
Just expensive furniture in an expensive apartment where a rich man existed but didn't live.
"It's not a museum," Ryan said defensively. "It's home."
"No it's not." Grace met his eyes. "A home has warmth. This place has a thermostat."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means everything here is beautiful and nothing here matters. You could leave tomorrow and the only thing that would change is the dust."
Ryan felt something twist in his chest. Anger maybe. Or truth that hurt too much to acknowledge.
"I work a lot. I don't have time to decorate."
"I'm not talking about decorating. I'm talking about living." Grace sat on the edge of the bed. "Your dad said you'd forgotten how to be human. I didn't understand what he meant until now."
"My father said a lot of things. Doesn't make them true."
"Doesn't make them false either."
They stared at each other across the perfect bedroom in the perfect penthouse where nothing was real.
Ryan should leave. Let Grace sleep. They both needed rest before court.
But something kept him standing there.
"You surprised me tonight," he said. "At the gala."
Grace laughed bitterly. "Your standards must be really low."
"I'm serious. Victoria attacked you, Mrs. Harrington condescended to you, Marcus tried to rattle you. You handled all of it without breaking."
"I wanted to break. I wanted to run out of there and never come back."
"But you didn't. You stood there and took it. That takes strength."
"Or stupidity. I haven't decided which."
Ryan moved further into the room. "Why did you agree to this? Really. It can't just be the money."
Grace was quiet for a long moment. "Your father asked me if I'd take a hard path if it led to my dreams. I said yes. I meant it."
"Even knowing how hard it would be?"
"I grew up in twelve different foster homes. I aged out of the system with nothing. I've been broke, homeless, hungry, scared. But I survived all of it." Grace looked up at him. "Rich people being mean to me? That's nothing compared to what I've already survived."
Something shifted in Ryan's chest. His contract wife wasn't fragile. She was a survivor who'd been through hell and kept walking.
His father saw that. Saw her strength and wanted Ryan to see it too.
"I'm sorry about tonight," Ryan said. "I should have defended you. Shut down Victoria and Mrs. Harrington and all of them. I let them attack you because I wanted to see if you could handle it. That was wrong."
"Why did you want to see if I could handle it?"
"Because if you can't survive my world, this marriage is pointless. You'd crack under the pressure and leave before the year was up. I'd lose everything anyway."
Grace stood, anger flashing in her eyes. "I'm not going to crack. I'm not going to leave. I signed a contract and I keep my promises. But that doesn't mean you get to use me as a punching bag to test my limits."
"You're right. I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing and start treating me like a partner instead of a problem."
"We're not partners Grace. We're two people stuck in a contract."
"Your father died tonight thinking we'd become something real. Are you really going to prove him wrong on the same day he died?"
The question hit like a punch. Ryan thought about his father's last words. About giving Grace a real chance. About stopping being so scared of letting someone in.
"I don't know how to do this," Ryan admitted. "I don't know how to be in a real marriage. Everything in my life has always been transactional. Business deals, contracts, arrangements. I don't know how to be anything else."
Grace's expression softened slightly. "Then maybe we figure it out together. Not as strangers fulfilling a contract. As two people trying not to destroy each other for a year."
"And after the year?"
"I don't know. But let's survive tomorrow first."
Ryan's phone buzzed. A text from his lawyer: Just reviewed the case. Without those medical records, Derek will win. I'm sorry Ryan. Start preparing to lose.
He showed Grace the text. She read it and her face went pale.
"So that's it? We lose?"
"Unless we find another way to prove my father was competent when he changed the will."
"What other way?"
Ryan had been thinking about this since they left the hospital. There was one option. Risky, dangerous, possibly career-ending.
But it might work.
"You testify," Ryan said. "Tell the judge about your friendship with my father. How he was lucid, thoughtful, completely in control of his decisions."
"Will they believe me? I'm your wife. They'll think I'm lying to protect the money."
"Maybe. But you're also the only person who spent real time with him outside of business meetings and doctor's appointments. You saw him as a human being, not a patient or a CEO. That matters."
Grace bit her lip, thinking. "What do I say?"
"The truth. Tell them about your conversations. About how he listened to your dreams. About how he was sad his son had forgotten how to be happy. All of it."
"And if Derek's lawyers rip me apart?"
"They will. They'll call you a gold digger, a liar, a manipulator. They'll attack everything about you."
"Great. Looking forward to it."
Ryan stepped closer. "I'll be there. In that courtroom. And I won't let them destroy you without fighting back. I promise."
Grace looked up at him. They were standing too close. Ryan could see gold flecks in her brown eyes he'd never noticed before.
"Why do you care?" Grace asked quietly. "If I get destroyed, you still lose everything. My testimony won't change that."
"I care because my father asked me to protect you. And because you deserve better than what I've given you so far."
Something passed between them. Not quite trust. Not quite friendship. But maybe the beginning of something real.
Grace's phone buzzed. She looked at it and gasped.
"What?" Ryan asked.
She showed him. An email from an unknown address with a video attachment.
The subject line read: Thought you should see what your husband's ex is planning. - A Friend
Ryan hit play. The video showed Victoria and Derek in what looked like a restaurant. The audio was muffled but clear enough.
Victoria's voice: "Tomorrow in court, I'll testify that Charles was delusional. That he talked about Grace like she was his daughter reborn or some crazy thing. The judge will eat it up."
Derek's voice: "And you're sure this will work?"
Victoria: "Trust me. I know exactly what to say to make Charles look insane. By the time I'm done, that waitress and her pathetic husband will have nothing."
The video ended.
Ryan stared at the screen feeling rage build in his chest. "Victoria's going to lie. She's going to commit perjury to help Derek."
"Why would she do that?"
"Because she's angry I married you instead of taking her back. Because Derek probably promised her something. Money, status, revenge. Who knows."
Grace looked sick. "So even if I testify, Victoria will cancel it out by lying."
"Unless we can prove she's lying."
"How?"
Ryan's mind raced. The video was evidence but it might not be admissible in court. They needed something stronger. Something that would destroy Victoria's credibility completely.
His phone rang. Unknown number. Ryan answered.
"Mr. Brooks?" An older woman's voice. "My name is Helen Parker. I'm Grace's aunt. Her mother's sister."
Ryan almost dropped the phone. "Grace's aunt?"
Grace grabbed his arm. "What? I have an aunt?"
"I saw the news about your marriage," Helen continued. "And about Charles Brooks passing. I need to talk to Grace. I have information about your father and her mother that might help your court case tomorrow. But I need to speak with her tonight. It's urgent."
Ryan looked at Grace whose eyes were wide with shock.
"She's right here," Ryan said, putting the phone on speaker.
"Grace? Sweetheart, it's your Aunt Helen. Your mother's sister. I've been looking for you for years."
Grace's voice shook. "I have family?"
"Yes baby. And I have proof that Charles Brooks knew your mother. Letters they exchanged. Photos. Evidence that shows he was completely sane and just trying to help the daughter of an old friend. Evidence that will win your court case."
Ryan's heart started pounding. "You have this evidence now?"
"Yes. But there's a problem. Someone broke into my house an hour ago. They were looking for these letters. I scared them off but they'll be back. I need to get this evidence to you tonight before they destroy it."
"Where are you?" Ryan demanded.
Helen gave an address across the city. "Please hurry. I don't know how much time we have before they find me."
The line went dead.
Ryan and Grace stared at each other.
"It could be a trap," Ryan said.
"Or it could save everything." Grace grabbed her coat. "We have to go."
"Grace, if this is Derek or Victoria setting us up..."
"Then we deal with it. But if my aunt really has evidence that your father was sane, we can't ignore it."
Ryan knew she was right. This was their only chance.
They rushed out of the penthouse and into the elevator. In the car, speeding through empty Seattle streets at 3am, Ryan called James.
"I need backup. Grace's aunt supposedly has evidence. Could be real, could be a setup. Meet us there."
They pulled up to a small house in a quiet neighborhood. Lights were on inside. The front door was slightly open.
"Something's wrong," Ryan said. "Stay in the car."
"No way. If this is my aunt, I'm going in."
They approached the house together. Ryan pushed the door open wider.
"Hello? Helen?"
No answer.
They stepped inside. The living room was destroyed. Furniture overturned, papers everywhere, clear signs of a break-in.
And in the middle of the chaos, a woman lay on the floor.
Grace screamed and ran to her. "Are you okay? What happened?"
The woman looked up. She was older, maybe sixty, with kind eyes and Grace's exact smile.
"They took them," Helen gasped. "The letters. The photos. Everything. They took it all."
Ryan's phone buzzed. A text from Derek: Looking for evidence? Too late. We got there first. See you in court.
Grace looked at Ryan with devastation in her eyes.
Their only hope was gone.
And in five hours, they'd lose everything.