Not panic.
Not yet.
Calculation.
Again.
Always calculation.
He picked up his phone.
“I’m done.”
Grace said nothing.
He walked toward the doors.
Then stopped beside her chair.
For six years, she had known his scent.
Cedar.
Bergamot.
A little smoke.
It had once made her feel safe when he came home late at night and climbed into bed beside her.
Now all she smelled was Vanessa’s perfume beneath it.
Sweet.
Expensive.
Foreign.
Ethan bent slightly.
Only Grace could hear him.
“You have no idea what you just destroyed.”
She looked up.
“No, Ethan.”
Her voice was equally quiet.
“I know exactly what I stopped.”
His eyes held hers.
Then he walked out.
Grace waited until the door closed.
Only then did she release the breath she had been holding.
Declan looked at her.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
It was not entirely true.
But it was close enough for tonight.
