Grace wasn't sure how the day had gone so wrong. One minute, she was in her apartment, ranting to Maya over coffee about how no one could make her do anything. The next, she was sitting at a long mahogany table surrounded by lawyers, parents, and a man who seemed carved out of composure. Adrian Cole. Every inch of him screamed control crisp white shirt, measured tone, no sign of the storm she felt inside. Meanwhile, Grace's pulse thudded in her ears like a drum. She wanted to scream. To walk out. To burn the entire contract in front of them all. But her father's voice cut through her thoughts: "Grace, this is what's best for the family. For you." For you. The words stung more than they should have. She looked across the table at Adrian. He wasn't looking at her. He was looking at the papers in front of him the marriage contract, neatly printed, ready for signatures. "Can we talk about this?" Grace asked, her voice trembling slightly. Her mother sighed, smoothing her pearls. "We've talked for weeks, darling." "No," Grace said sharply. "You've talked. I've listened." Her father's jaw tightened. "Enough. This discussion is over. You'll sign." Her throat burned. "You can't" "Grace." The single word was soft, but firm and it didn't come from her father. It came from Adrian. Her gaze snapped to him. "What?" He held her eyes, his tone calm but unreadable. "If you don't want to sign, don't. But if you're only refusing to prove a point, make sure it's worth the fallout." That did it. Her blood boiled. The nerve. The absolute arrogance. "You think I'm doing this for attention?" she snapped. "I think you're doing it because you hate being told what to do," he said evenly. "Which I understand. But sometimes the way out isn't through rebellion it's through strategy." "Strategy?" she laughed bitterly. "You sound like you're talking about a merger, not a marriage." "Maybe because that's how our parents see it," he said, gaze steady. "But I'm not them." She hated that his words made her falter. Hated that part of her wanted to believe him. The lawyer cleared his throat. "If we could proceed..." Everyone turned to look at her. Her father. Her mother. Adrian's parents. The weight of expectation filled the room like smoke. Grace felt trapped suffocated by duty, pride, and the knowledge that no one here saw her. Except maybe him. Her hand trembled slightly as she picked up the pen. "Fine," she whispered. "If this is what everyone wants fine." The pen scratched across the page, each stroke feeling like a betrayal of everything she stood for. When she finished, she pushed the document toward Adrian without looking up. "Your turn." He studied her for a long moment before picking up his own pen. "For what it's worth," he said quietly, "I'm not signing to control you." She looked up then and for the first time, she saw something flicker behind his calm. Something human. "Then why are you signing?" she asked. His gaze didn't waver. "Because I don't want anyone else to." Her breath caught. The air between them changed heavy, electric. It shouldn't have felt like that. Not there. Not then. He signed his name in one smooth motion, then slid the document toward the lawyers. "It's done," her father said with relief, rising to shake hands with Adrian's father. "Congratulations, to both families." The room filled with polite laughter and champagne clinks. But Grace didn't move. Her fingers curled into fists under the table. Adrian leaned closer, his voice low so only she could hear. "You're angry." "You think?" "You should be." She turned sharply toward him. "You don't get to tell me what I should feel." "I'm not," he said quietly. "I'm just saying if you're going to hate me, do it for the right reasons." Her chest tightened. "And what are the right reasons, Adrian?" He held her gaze. "Because I make you feel something you don't want to." She went still. The noise of the room faded the clinking glasses, the congratulations, the shallow celebration. All she could hear was the slow, measured beat of her heart and his calm, infuriating voice. "Congratulations, Mrs. Cole," he murmured. Her lips parted, a hundred retorts fighting to be said. None made it past her throat. Instead, she stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the marble. "I need air." "Grace" her mother began. But Grace was already gone. Outside, the cool wind hit her face like a slap. She walked until the noise of the building was a blur behind her. Her heels clicked against the pavement, her chest tight, her eyes stinging. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Not with contracts and lawyers and a man who could unnerve her with a single look. Her phone buzzed. A message. Adrian: You don't have to face them alone tonight. Meet me downstairs before you go home. She stared at the screen for a long time before typing back: Grace: You're the last person I want to see. His reply came seconds later. Adrian: Good. Anger suits you. She cursed under her breath, half furious, half trembling. And yet, when she got into her car and glanced at the glass doors of Cole Holdings, she saw him standing there hands in his pockets, gaze fixed on her like he could read every thought she tried to bury. She drove away before she could change her mind. But something inside her whispered that this wasn't the end of their war. It was just the beginning.
