CHAPTER SEVENTEEN #2
"Thank you, Doctor," Kennedy said, her voice rich with a quiet, maternal joy.
Grayson sat in the chair beside the table, leaning forward, captivated by the screen.
He was deeply involved in the pregnancy.
He had accompanied her to every single appointment.
He had memorized the nutritional charts, read the developmental books, and coordinated seamlessly with Spencer and Ryder to ensure the nurseries in both estates were being constructed to perfection.
Kennedy was perfectly comfortable with this arrangement.
She treated Grayson with respect. She included him in every medical update, asked for his input on pediatricians, and never once tried to minimize his role as the father.
But she maintained the boundaries she had clearly established in the library with flawless precision.
There were no lingering looks, no shared jokes, no late-night phone calls unless they pertained to the child.
Grayson was the one struggling with the status quo.
He sat in the dim room, watching the woman he was hopelessly, desperately in love with, and felt as though he were trapped behind an invisible wall of glass.
There was absolutely nothing he could do without overstepping.
If he reached out to hold her hand, she would politely pull away.
If he tried to steer the conversation toward their past, she would seamlessly redirect it.
He could not pressure her for more. He could not demand forgiveness, because he had not earned it. And he could not ask her to rebuild a relationship she had already decided to leave behind. He was forced to endure the agonizing torture of being welcomed as a father, and rejected as a man.
"Would you like copies of the scans for your parents, Grayson?" Kennedy asked politely, pulling her sweater back down as the technician wiped the gel from her stomach.
"Yes, please," Grayson replied, forcing a tight, polite smile onto his face. "My mother already has an album waiting."
"Perfect," Kennedy nodded, sitting up gracefully. "I will have Thomas bring them over this evening."
It was a perfectly amicable, perfectly sterile exchange. And it broke Grayson’s heart all over again.
***
Two days later, the chaotic hum of the financial district buzzed relentlessly outside the towering glass windows of Grayson’s executive office.
Grayson sat behind his desk, reviewing a series of corporate acquisitions, his mind functioning on autopilot. The door to his office chimed quietly, and his secretary, Diane, stepped inside.
"Mr. Ashford-Wale," Diane said apologetically. "Miss Winters is here. She doesn't have an appointment, but she insists it is urgent."
Grayson closed the file in front of him, an exhausted sigh escaping his lips. "Send her in, Diane."
A moment later, Olivia stepped into the office.
She looked significantly better than the last time she had stood in this room.
The frantic, weeping desperation had faded, replaced by a quiet, determined resolve.
She wore a tailored wool coat over a navy dress, her blonde hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders.
She had spent the last two months untangling the toxic web her family had woven, finally separating herself from their influence.
And now that she knew—directly from Kennedy’s own mouth—that the heiress had absolutely no intention of interfering in her relationship, Olivia had returned, hoping to salvage whatever remained between them.
"Grayson," Olivia said softly, stopping in the center of the plush carpet. "Thank you for seeing me."
"Olivia," Grayson acknowledged, gesturing vaguely to one of the leather armchairs. "What can I do for you?"
She didn't sit. She took a step closer to his desk, her blue eyes searching his face for the man she had loved.
"I came to ask if we could try again. I know so much damage has been done.
I know what my family did was unforgivable, and I know hitting Kennedy was a horrific mistake.
But Kennedy told me herself... she doesn't want you. She isn't standing in our way."
Grayson stared at her. The words she doesn't want you echoed in the quiet office, twisting the knife that was already buried deep in his chest.
"I have cut my family off," Olivia continued, her voice trembling with earnest hope. "I am standing here on my own. I want to rebuild Grayson. I want to reconnect. I want the future we were planning before everything fell apart."
Grayson looked at the woman standing before him.
He was no longer sure of anything. He looked at Olivia’s face, searching his own heart for the fierce, protective affection he had harbored for two years, but he found nothing except a hollow, echoing emptiness.
He was not sure of his feelings for her anymore.
The future he had once imagined with Olivia—the charity dinners, the quiet evenings, the life he had assumed was perfectly charted out—now felt like a script written for a stranger.
He wasn't even sure he fully understood himself anymore.
"Olivia," Grayson began, his voice a low, rumble that carried the weight of realization. "I appreciate what you have done. I am glad you have found clarity regarding your family. But we cannot rebuild something that no longer exists."
Olivia’s hopeful expression shattered, her shoulders sagging. "Why? If Kennedy doesn't want you... why can't we try?"
"Because," Grayson said, standing up and walking around the edge of his desk. He leaned against the polished wood, looking at her with an agonizing, brutal honesty. "Because the only thing I know with certainty right now is that my child is my priority. And Kennedy..."
He paused, his throat tightening as the truth finally broke the surface, undeniable and firm.
"Kennedy is beginning to mean everything to me," Grayson confessed, the words ringing with a tragic, helpless devotion.
Olivia stopped breathing, taking a slow step backward.
Grayson stared blankly at the floor, the realization washing over him in a devastating wave.
Perhaps she always had meant everything to him.
Perhaps he had simply been too blind, too comfortable in the safety of their lifelong friendship, or too foolish to recognize the depth of his own feelings until he had systematically destroyed the bridge between them.
He had spent his life looking right past the most fiercely loyal, brilliantly sharp, exquisitely beautiful woman in his world, only realizing her worth the exact moment she decided she no longer wanted him.
"I think I am in love with her," Grayson whispered, the confession a quiet, agonizing surrender to the silence of the office.
Olivia stared at him, a single tear spilling over her lashes.
She saw the devastation in his eyes, and she finally understood.
He wasn't choosing Kennedy out of obligation.
He wasn't choosing Kennedy because of the baby.
He was choosing Kennedy because his heart had fundamentally, permanently shifted.
"But she doesn't want you," Olivia whispered back, the tragic irony of the situation not lost on her.
"I know," Grayson replied, a hollow, self-deprecating smile touching the corners of his mouth. "She doesn't want me. And she likely never will again."
He looked back up at Olivia, his eyes haunted.
Now that he was finally beginning to understand the sheer, catastrophic magnitude of what he had lost, the possibility of spending the rest of his life connected to Kennedy through their child felt like infinitely more than he deserved. It was a gift he had not earned.
"I am sorry, Olivia," Grayson said quietly, the finality of the statement sealing the tomb of their past. "But I am no longer certain that the life I once wanted with you is the life I want now. I cannot give you the future you deserve."
Olivia didn't argue. She didn't scream or throw accusations because there was nothing left to fight against. The man standing in front of her was consumed by a love he could never claim. She nodded slowly, swiping the tear from her cheek, and turned away.
Grayson watched her walk out the glass doors for the last time.
He was alone in the sprawling, silent office, a billionaire who owned a global empire, paralyzed by the knowledge that the only thing in the world he actually wanted was a woman who was perfectly content to live the rest of her life without him.