Chapter 11（part 1）
Grace's pov
I never imagined signing a marriage contract would require me to dress nicely.
Yet there I was.
Standing in front of my bedroom mirror for what felt like the hundredth time.
I smoothed the wrinkles from my cream-colored blouse before looking at myself again.
Too formal.
Too casual.
Too... nervous.
Definitely too nervous.
I sighed.
"This isn't even a real marriage yet, Grace," I muttered to my reflection. "You're just discussing it."
Somehow that didn't make me feel any better.
Downstairs, the smell of toasted bread drifted through the house.
Normally, Dad would already be in the kitchen, humming while making breakfast and insisting I eat one more pancake than any normal human being should.
Today...
The kitchen was empty.
The silence felt wrong.
Dad was still in the hospital.
The doctors wanted to observe him for a few more days before allowing him home.
He had argued with every single one of them.
He lost.
Thankfully.
I packed a small container of homemade vegetable soup into my bag.
I had made it myself.
Well...
The internet deserved most of the credit.
I deserved points for not setting the kitchen on fire.
Baby steps.
My phone vibrated.
I smiled before answering.
"Morning."
"Morning, sweetheart."
His voice sounded stronger today.
That alone made my shoulders relax.
"Did you eat?"
"..."
"Grace."
"I was about to."
"You were not."
"I was thinking about it."
He laughed.
"I taught you too well."
"You really did."
There was a brief silence.
Then his voice softened.
"You're nervous."
I looked out the window.
The sky was cloudy.
"I am."
"You don't have to do this if you truly don't want to."
The words caught me off guard.
"Dad..."
"I mean it."
"I know."
"I don't want you sacrificing your happiness for me."
I closed my eyes.
"If I don't at least try..."
My voice became quieter.
"...I'll always wonder if I disappointed you."
A long silence followed.
Then Dad cleared his throat.
"I've never been more proud of you than I am today."
My eyes immediately stung.
"Dad..."
"No crying."
"I'm not."
"You sound like you're crying."
"I sound emotional."
"Same thing."
Despite everything...
He still managed to make me laugh.
"Go," he said gently.
"And remember..."
"What?"
"Be yourself."
I smiled.
"I'm not sure that's enough."
"It is."
...
Forty minutes later...
The taxi stopped outside Reeves Holdings.
I slowly climbed out.
The building towered over everything around it.
Glass.
Steel.
Perfection.
Even the entrance somehow looked expensive.
People in suits walked confidently through the revolving doors.
Meanwhile...
I was wondering if it was socially acceptable to fake a stomach ache and go home.
No.
Grace.
You're here.
Move.
My feet ignored me.
"Miss?"
I looked up.
The security guard smiled politely.
"Can I help you?"
"Oh."
Right.
Walking.
That would help.
"I... um..."
Great start.
"I have a meeting."
"Your name?"
"Grace Zane."
His expression immediately changed.
Not shocked.
Just... respectful.
"Of course, Miss Zane."
He pressed a button.
"The General is expecting you."
The General.
Why did everyone keep calling him that?
Couldn't someone just call him Alex?
Or Alexander?
Or...
Human?
I thanked him before stepping inside.
The lobby was beautiful.
Marble floors.
Fresh flowers.
Soft piano music.
Everything looked spotless.
Even the air smelled expensive.
How does air smell expensive?
I didn't know.
Yet somehow...
It did.
A receptionist smiled warmly.
"Good afternoon, Miss Zane."
"Good afternoon."
She handed me a visitor's pass.
"The General is finishing another meeting."
"He'll be with you shortly."
I nodded.
"No problem."
I sat down.
Crossed my legs.
Uncrossed them.
Crossed them again.
Bad idea.
Crossed ankles instead.
Better.
Maybe.
Stop fidgeting, Grace.
I picked up a magazine from the table.
Didn't read a single word.
Five minutes passed.
Ten.
Then...
The elevator doors opened.
Every conversation in the lobby stopped.
Not because anyone was told to stop.
They just...
Did.
I looked up.
Alexander Reeves stepped out of the elevator wearing a charcoal-grey suit.
No military uniform today.
Somehow...
That made him even more intimidating.
His jacket fit perfectly.
His posture was impossibly straight.
One hand rested casually inside his pocket while the other carried a folder.
Several employees greeted him.
"Good afternoon, sir."
He acknowledged each one with a small nod.
Nothing more.
No unnecessary words.
No exaggerated authority.
Just quiet confidence.
People naturally moved aside for him.
Not because they were afraid.
Because they respected him.
Or perhaps...
Both.
He hadn't noticed me yet.
Which was good.
Very good.
I had exactly four more seconds to calm down.
One.
Two.
Three-
His eyes found mine.
My brain immediately forgot how breathing worked.
He walked toward me with measured steps.
Every step seemed deliberate.
Controlled.
I quickly stood.
Too quickly.
My handbag slipped off my shoulder and landed on the polished floor.
Wonderful.
Absolutely wonderful.
The entire lobby probably witnessed my graceful entrance.
I bent to pick it up.
At the exact same moment...
Another hand reached for it.
Our fingers almost touched.
I froze.
Alexander picked up the bag before I could.
He held it out to me.
"You dropped this."
His voice was calm.
Deep.
Exactly the voice I'd imagined hearing during military briefings.
"T-thank you."
Brilliant.
I sounded like my tongue had forgotten English.
He simply nodded.
"You're early."
"I didn't want to be late."
"You weren't."
"...I know."
Why am I answering like an idiot?
Grace.
Please.
Use complete sentences.
He looked at me for another second.
Then quietly said,
"Come with me."
Not an order.
Not exactly.
Yet my feet obeyed before my brain had agreed.
We walked toward the private elevator.
The silence between us wasn't awkward.
It was terrifying.
I could hear my own heartbeat.
The elevator doors opened.
He gestured for me to enter first.
I stepped inside.
He followed.
The doors closed.
Now it was just the two of us.
In a silent elevator.
Fantastic.
The elevator climbed smoothly.
I stared determinedly at the floor numbers.
Anything but him.
"So..."
I said, immediately regretting it.
He looked at me.
"Yes?"
"I..."
Why did I start talking?
"I hope your grandmother is feeling better."
His expression softened almost invisibly.
"She is."
"I'm glad."
Another silence.
Come on, Grace.
Normal conversation.
You can do this.
"I also... um..."
He waited patiently.
"...liked the flowers in your lobby."
Seriously?
Flowers?
Out of everything in the universe...
You chose flowers?
He looked toward the arrangement near the elevator entrance.
"My grandmother chooses them."
I blinked.
"She has good taste."
"She'll appreciate hearing that."
Something about the way he said it...
Made me smile.
Maybe...
Just maybe...
He wasn't quite as frightening as I had convinced myself.
The elevator stopped.
The doors slid open.
He stepped out first.
Then glanced back at me.
"This way."
My heart immediately started racing again.
The real meeting...
Was about to begin.