Chapter 7 Grandpa Gregory
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Morning came with a heaviness in the mansion.
Layla walked down the marble staircase in one of her new soft beige dresses, the silk brushing against her skin like a reminder of who she was pretending to be. The fake wife. The future mother of a billionaire’s heir. The girl hiding everything from the most powerful man in Jasper’s world.
Gregory Tate.
He was already seated at the long breakfast table, sipping his black coffee with a stern look on his face. His suit was perfectly pressed, and his silver hair was combed back with military precision. He had the kind of presence that could silence a room without saying a word.
“Good morning,” Layla said, offering a soft smile.
Gregory’s sharp eyes scanned her from head to toe. “You didn’t come down for dinner last night.”
“I was tired,” she said gently. “Pregnancy has been... demanding.”
Jasper, who had just entered the room, caught her eye. He knew it wasn’t just fatigue. It was Claire. It was the pressure. It was the lie they were both living.
Gregory gestured for them to sit.
“I’ve decided to extend my stay,” he said without preamble. “It’s been too long since I watched my grandson ruin his life in real time.”
Jasper raised an eyebrow. “Nice to see you’re still full of love.”
Gregory ignored the comment. “I want to get to know Layla. If she’s carrying the next heir of the Tate legacy, she should be more than just a pretty face.”
Layla swallowed hard.
“You’ll spend the day with me,” Gregory continued. “No assistants. No Jasper. Just you and me.”
Jasper opened his mouth to protest, but Layla placed a hand on his arm.
“I can handle it,” she said softly.
Gregory smirked, standing. “We’ll start with the garden.”
---
The garden tour was nothing like she expected.
Gregory asked about her upbringing, her family, her interests. She answered carefully, walking the line between truth and omission. She told him about Lina — but called her her cousin instead of her sister. She spoke of simple dreams, of reading, of traveling.
“You’re quiet,” he said finally, studying her. “But not stupid.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He stopped near the roses, his expression unreadable. “You know what I see when I look at you?”
Layla’s stomach flipped.
“Desperation.” His eyes narrowed. “Not greed. Not gold-digging. But something deeper. You’re doing this for a reason.”
She said nothing.
Gregory leaned closer. “Jasper is many things. Arrogant. Stubborn. But not cruel. And he’s always had good instincts about people... until Claire.”
Layla blinked. “You didn’t like her?”
“She loved power. Not Jasper.”
“And you think I don’t?”
He tilted his head. “I’m not sure yet.”
---
Later that night, Jasper knocked on Layla’s door.
“Well?” he asked. “Did he interrogate you?”
Layla sighed. “He knows I’m hiding something. But he doesn’t know what.”
Jasper ran a hand through his hair. “We need to be careful. If he finds out this marriage isn’t real—”
“He’ll cut you off.”
“Worse,” Jasper muttered. “He’ll make sure I never take over the company.”
They were quiet for a moment.
Then Layla whispered, “Maybe we should... pretend harder.”
Jasper’s gaze met hers. “What do you mean?”
“He stays another night, right? Maybe it’s time we act like real newlyweds.”
Jasper raised a brow. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
Layla blushed. “A little performance wouldn’t hurt.”
---
That night, Gregory moved toward the guest hallway... but paused as he heard a soft thud.
A muffled laugh.
A quiet moan.
He raised an eyebrow.
The bedroom door down the hall was slightly ajar, just enough for the shadows and sounds to drift through.
Inside, Jasper had Layla pressed against the bed, his shirt unbuttoned, her fingers gripping his collar. Their lips moved together in a slow, heated kiss — long, deep, full of the kind of tension neither of them was pretending anymore.
His hands roamed down her waist, their bodies tangled like lovers truly lost in the moment.
Layla’s breath caught as he leaned down, his mouth grazing her jaw. “You’re good at this,” he whispered.
Her voice trembled. “I’m not acting.”
Jasper froze for half a second.
Then kissed her again — harder this time.
From the hallway, Gregory quietly stepped away, his lips pursed.
He didn't say a word, but his eyes held something strange.
Not suspicion.
Not anger.
Something... closer to approval.
---
Back inside the room, Jasper pulled away slowly, his breath uneven.
Layla looked up at him, heart racing.
“Jasper,” she whispered, “what are we doing?”
He didn’t answer.
Because he wasn’t sure either.
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