Chapter Twenty-Four

Grace’s POV

The morning after the family dinner, I woke to the sound of hushed voices in the hallway near my room. Helena’s controlled whisper, then Hunter’s deeper tone… their words indistinct, but the tension unmistakable.

Great. Nothing like waking up to marital discord when you’re living in someone else’s house.

I’d noticed it throughout dinner last night, subtle friction beneath their polished surface. The way Hunter had pushed back against Helena’s manipulations. The way she’d worked extra hard to maintain her perfect wife image. Something wasn’t right between them.

The voices faded, followed by the sound of retreating footsteps. I glanced at my phone: 6:45 AM. Too early for Helena to be up voluntarily unless something was wrong. My sister treated mornings as a personal affront—another charming trait we didn’t share.

I dragged myself out of bed, my thoughts heavy with the events of last night’s dinner. Margo’s ongoing cutting remarks throughout the evening. Hunter’s unexpected defense of me. Helena’s warning in the bathroom. The atmosphere in this house was becoming more complicated by the day. What had I done?

After showering, I chose a simple black blouse and pencil skirt for work. Nothing fancy, but professional enough for the office. Living in the same house as my boss created a strange overlap between my personal and professional lives — yet another complication in an already complicated situation.

Just another day in the surreal life of Grace Wilson. Living with her sister- and brother-in-law while possibly carrying their child. Totally normal. Yeah right.

When I entered the kitchen, I found Hunter alone, reading something on his tablet while absently stirring his coffee. He looked up when I appeared, his expression softening slightly.

“Morning,” he said. “Coffee’s fresh.”

“Thanks. But maybe just tea,” I said, moving to make myself a cup, acutely aware of his presence behind me. The kitchen suddenly felt too small, too intimate. Which it wasn’t. It was huge.

“Was that Helena I heard earlier? Everything okay?”

Hunter’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. If I hadn’t spent years studying his expressions at work, I might have missed it.

“She had an early charity meeting. Something about the children’s hospital fundraiser. She won’t be home until late tonight. I have no idea why it takes so long. But I’m not involved in the charity side since I married Helena.” He shrugged. “Normally I just write a cheque.”

That explained Helena’s unusual early start, but not the tension I’d heard in their voices. I poured my tea, debating whether to press further.

Don’t get involved, Grace. Not your marriage. Not your business.

But my mouth had other ideas.

“She seemed… I don’t know. Sounded stressed,” I ventured carefully.

Hunter’s eyes met mine, searching. “You heard us.”

It wasn’t a question. I nodded, embarrassed. “Not what you were saying. Just that you were... talking. The soundproofing around this place is good.”

Arguing. Let’s call it what it was. I didn’t say that though.

He set down his tablet with a sigh. “Helena wants to host a dinner party this weekend. For business associates of mine and some of your father’s political connections.”

“And you don’t want to,” I guessed, reading between the lines.

“I don’t see the point of entertaining right now.” He stopped abruptly, looking uncomfortable. “We do it a little too often as it is. There’s a lot going on right now.”

Was he talking about my possible pregnancy or what I hadn’t heard outside of my room? All married couples had disagreements, as far as she was aware. So why the big deal?

“I see.” I took a careful sip of my tea. “Helena likes a good party.” Helena liked being the queen bee at any event, and she often was.

“Yes, she does,” Hunter said, an edge to his voice I rarely heard. Then, seeming to catch himself, he added more gently, “Like I said, a lot going on right now. I just don’t see the point. But it’s also for your father.”

I studied him over the rim of my cup. Hunter Sinclair had always been difficult to read: stoic, controlled, revealing little. But lately, I’d been catching glimpses behind that façade. Moments of frustration. It was like the shell he wore around himself was cracking.

Don’t read into it, Grace. He’s just being kind. You might be carrying his child — that’s it. Nothing more.

“Ready to head to the office?” he asked, clearly changing the subject.

“In a minute.” I hesitated, then decided to take a risk. “Hunter, is everything okay? Between you and Helena, I mean.”

Why did I just ask that? It’s none of my business. None of my business. None of my—

His expression closed off immediately. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“No reason,” I backpedaled quickly. “I just thought... last night at dinner...”

“Everything’s fine. My marriage — or the state of it — has nothing to do with you.” His voice was cold and professional again, any hint of familiarity gone. “We should get going. I have an 8:30 meeting.”

Message received. Whatever was happening between him and my sister was off-limits. I nodded and turned away, mentally kicking myself for overstepping.

Smooth, Grace. Real smooth. I cleaned my cup and left the kitchen.

Hunter’s POV

By the time Grace finally left the kitchen, I wanted to slam my head against the marble counter.

Not because of her.

Because of me.

I shouldn’t have snapped. She hadn’t even done anything wrong. Just… asked a question. A normal one. She’d been worried, which was fair enough. But the moment she said Helena’s name, something twisted inside my chest like a knife. And I reacted like a bastard.

I ran a hand through my hair and took another sip of coffee that had gone lukewarm. I didn’t even taste it.

She’d heard us. Of course she had.

That argument this morning hadn’t even been about anything specific. Just layers of tension since I found the pills. Helena had been clingy, doing everything she could to pull me back into bed. And I was trying — really trying — not to spiral. Because I sure as hell couldn’t get it up right now.

I’d even checked her phone while she was in the shower this morning. I wasn’t proud of it. But I’d done it. Scrolled through messages, browser history, email.

Nothing. Just charity emails, influencer fluff, and her gym instructor texting about avocado smoothies and stretch sessions. Nothing overt. Nothing I could point to.

But something still felt wrong.

And I hated that I was looking for it. Hated that I’d become that guy. I wasn’t some paranoid asshole who snooped behind his wife’s back.

Except I was.

My jaw clenched as I rinsed my mug too aggressively. I didn’t like what that made me. I didn’t like that Grace saw even a sliver of it. She’d looked at me like she was trying to understand. Like she was trying to be kind.

I didn’t want her kindness.

I didn’t want her seeing through me.

When she looked at me with those too-innocent eyes, I wanted…

Goddamn it.

I wasn’t going there. I couldn’t.

She was Helena’s sister. And she might be pregnant with my child. That alone was enough of a mind fuck. I wasn’t adding guilt-laced attraction to the equation. Maybe that was it… the thought of her carrying my child… It had to be.

I looked toward the hall where she’d disappeared.

I exhaled, grabbed my jacket, and forced myself to think about work. About the meeting at 8:30.

I found myself wondering what Grace was thinking.

If she was hurt by what I said.

If she was still thinking about it.

Fuck.