Chapter 10
TEN
Grayson
Lila was in the shower while I sat on the bed, my back against the headboard, my laptop open in front of me.
I was on Wikipedia, reading about the Hales. They had their own page.
Imagine that.
I focused on Stephen Hale. He was thirty-nine. Never married. According to the articles, he was a philanthropist who donated to a long list of charities. He’d served in the army for a few years before quitting and joining the family business. Now he was their Chief Financial Officer.
When I googled him, there were photos everywhere.
Always with someone beautiful. Models, actresses, and a few relationships, but never long-term.
Gossip columns painted him as a player, and he did not seem to give a damn about his reputation.
Some articles said that when he was dating a famous singer, he got so fed up with the paparazzi that he stood up, grabbed his water, and threw it straight at one of them.
He was probably rich enough that his image didn’t matter. Do whatever the hell you want, and people still call you respectable.
But how the fuck did Ariana know him?
The only thing that made sense was through his brother, Adam. He served in the army too. Maybe that’s where the connection came from.
Were they together? The way he looked at her didn’t feel like friendship. Then again, I might be wrong. I was too busy dealing with the hateful look she gave me, like I was the dirt under her shoe.
She hated me. That much was obvious.
Hated me enough to walk back into my life like this. I knew that she was trying to ruin me. That was why she chose the location exactly across Belrose.
And she knew exactly what she was doing. With someone like Stephen Hale backing her up, there was practically nothing that she couldn’t do.
I rubbed my face in frustration.
I knew I’d wronged her. I knew I might not deserve forgiveness. But the way she hated me—it was too much. If she really came back just to ruin me, to destroy the business my family built, then she crossed a line.
Because she knew.
She knew how much we relied on Belrose.
She knew we were already drowning for years, that our finances were a mess, barely hanging on.
She knew how we worked, how we ran things. She knew everything.
My mind went back to that day—our engagement day—and I remembered every detail like it had been branded into me.
I walked through the door and saw him on top of her, kissing her, moving over her with his pants down, her legs locked under the crook of his elbows, right there in our bed, the bed we shared, and she didn’t even see me.
She didn’t stop.
Didn’t even flinch.
She was too busy fucking him to notice I was standing there, watching the woman I was about to spend the rest of my life with betray me without hesitation, without shame, without even a pause.
Everyone had warned me. My sister. My mother.
A few friends. They told me something was off, saying she was too close to Christian and that they had seen things I didn’t, but I dismissed it.
I defended her. Because that wasn’t Ariana, she wasn’t like that.
She was quiet, private, soft in ways most people didn’t understand.
I was her first. First kiss, first everything. That had to mean something. I believed it did. I believed in her. She wouldn’t do that to me. That’s what I told myself. Over and over.
But they got closer. Started hanging out more. They went to lunch together. She told me every time, like she had nothing to hide, and I took it as proof. I trusted her completely. That blind kind of trust you only give when you are so deeply in love.
Then the photos came.
I stared at my laptop. I knew exactly where they were. I should’ve deleted them years ago, but I didn’t. I kept them. Like some twisted reminder of just how badly I got it wrong.
My hand moved to the touchpad and opened the folder.
Four photos.
That’s all it took to blow it all to hell. Then I opened them all.
One where they were standing too close, her hands resting lightly on his chest.
Another where he had one arm wrapped around her, his face pressed against her temple as if he belonged there.
Then there was the one where they sat facing each other, his hands cradling hers, his head lowered as if he were about to kiss their joined hands.
And the last one. The one I received on the morning of our engagement day.
In that one, he leaned in so close it looked like he was about to kiss her.
Even with all of that, I still believed her.
There’s got to be a reasonable explanation for all of it, I thought.
She looked so damn happy that day. Then she tried on the dress, and she looked so fucking beautiful it knocked the air out of me. My chest swelled, and at that moment, I decided to let it go. To forget all of it. I didn’t want to ruin it for her.
I trusted her.
I loved her so much it scared the hell out of me. Scared me that she might leave. But in the end, she did betray me. And then she left.
The sound of the running water stopped. Lila must’ve finished her shower. I closed the files and shut down the laptop.
A moment later, she walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her head as she dried her hair.
“Finished working?” she asked, eyeing my laptop.
I nodded and looked at her.
No matter how many times I told myself that Lila was the right one for me, deep down I knew I was lying. I was trying to force something that wasn’t real.
Because the truth was, no one could replace Ariana. I fucking knew that.
She was lodged in my chest like a splinter I couldn’t dig out. I couldn’t forget her. I couldn’t erase her. And maybe the worst part was knowing that everyone else would always be a balm, never the cure.
Ariana had taken my heart, crushed it under her heel, and burned whatever was left to ash.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Lila asked, brows pulled together. “Grayson?”
Fuck. I needed air.
“I need to go out for a bit,” I said, pushing off the bed and heading to the walk-in closet. I grabbed a jacket without looking back. “I need some air.”
“What’s wrong, Gray?” she asked, trailing behind me.
“Too much in my head,” I muttered. “I just need to drive for a while.”
“Where?”
“Nowhere. Just around.”
I didn’t wait for a reply. I walked out of the house we’d been sharing for the past three months, the place I moved into when I thought I was finally ready to let someone in again.
Lila kept calling my name, but I ignored her. Right now, just being near her made it hard to breathe.
I didn’t even realize where I was until I found myself parked in front of Ariana’s apartment building, leaning against my car, staring up at her window.
I knew exactly which one it was. Second floor, third window from the left. The building was small, with nothing blocking the view, so I could see everything.
Because I saw her.
She was standing there with Stephen.
Then he lifted her, her legs wrapping around him as he kissed her.
I didn’t look away.
Until he turned and walked off, she was still clinging to him, and they both disappeared from view.
The day of Ana?s’s private dinner had finally arrived.
And it was madness.
I knew it would be big, but not like this. Not this level of spectacle.
From my office on the third floor of Belrose, I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the chaos unfolding below.
The entire street in front of the building was lined with black cars and luxury sedans, doors swinging open one after another to drop off A-list celebrities, high-profile influencers, critics, and people whose faces were all over the media.
I was told there would be eighty guests coming.
Flashes from cameras lit up the sidewalk. Paparazzi were everywhere, crowding the entrance like sharks circling blood. People were dressed to the nines, walking in like they had somewhere more important to be than dinner—like this was a red-carpet premiere, not the opening of a restaurant.
And all of it was happening right across the street. From here, I had the perfect view of the enemy.
The hit to Belrose had already started.
And they hadn’t even fucking opened yet.
This was just a private dinner. One night. But tonight, our dining room was a ghost town because no one gave a shit about Belrose. They all wanted to be across the street, trying to catch a glimpse of the circus Ana?s was putting on.
And right now, all of them were on their side. Not ours.
I just hoped this was all because of the event, that once they opened to the public, it wouldn’t be as good as I feared. Even though deep down, I knew that was a foolish thought.
Ana?s had Thiago Marques and Kenji Nakamura as their chefs—two of the biggest names in the culinary world under one roof.
I still couldn’t wrap my head around how the hell Ariana managed to get them on board.
What blew my mind even more was how confidently she was willing to pay whatever absurd paycheck they no doubt demanded.
That meant she was confident Ana?s would be a success. Because no matter how much the Hales were backing her, they would have demanded results. They were businessmen, after all.
I kept watching from my window, not realizing Roe had stepped up beside me. Our restaurant manager. She had been with Belrose since the day it opened twenty-five years ago.
She was loyal and reliable, but sometimes I wondered if she was still the right person for the job. What we needed now was someone sharper and more in tune with the times, bold enough to take risks when it counted.
Someone like that wouldn’t come cheap. And right now, we simply didn’t have the budget.
“They’re already fully booked for two months from opening day,” she said quietly. “Their prices are insane, and people are still willing to pay.”
Fuck!
“Who told you that?”
“I called to book a table. Just to check things out,” she said. “That’s what they told me.”
“What’s the situation downstairs?” I asked.
“Only three tables are occupied,” she said. “It’s a sad sight down there.”
She paused for a long moment before asking, “Do you think this is going to hit us? The town’s big enough for both of us… right?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. We’re going head-to-head with them, and honestly, they’ve already made us look outdated.”
“They have amazing chefs,” she said. “I’m a big fan of Kenji Nakamura. I can’t believe they got him.”
“Yeah…” I trailed off, my mind already churning with everything I needed to do to fix the situation at Belrose.
“Do you have a plan?” she asked, and I could hear the hope in her voice.
“I’ll think of something,” I said, though even I didn’t sound convinced, and I was pretty sure she could tell.
She opened her mouth to say something, but the door to my office swung open before she could. My parents stormed in.
“What the hell is going on, Gray?” my mother demanded, her face pale with disbelief. “I just heard Ariana owns that place!”
I didn’t respond. My eyes drifted back to the window, to the warm lights of the restaurant across the street.
“How did she manage to pull this off, Grayson?” my father said. “That’s going to hurt us. You know it.”
Still, I said nothing.
My mother marched up to me, standing stiffly at my side.
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose, the pressure behind it dull and growing.
“She can’t do this to us, you hear me? Do something about it, Grayson!”
I ignored her.
Because at that moment, my eyes locked onto a figure standing in front of Ana?s, looking up, staring straight at me.
Ariana.
She wore a black gown with thin straps and a low neckline, the soft fabric flowing over her body like water. Her dark hair fell loosely over her shoulders, effortlessly elegant.
She looked stunning. So fucking beautiful.
And we were just… staring at each other.
I knew exactly what she was saying without a single word.
She was letting me know.
That she was here to destroy me.