A sharp pang of guilt pierced Damien's chest.
"Who said you were just getting in the way?"
He explained frantically, "Grace, it's not what you think. I just... I just didn't want you to worry."
"Didn't want me to worry?"
Grace let out a bitter laugh. "So you decided to say nothing at all? You left me at home to guess like an idiot? I had to watch you stay out all night, watch Ivy move out, and watch this house become completely empty?"
"Do you have any idea how that feels, Damien?"
"The feeling that the whole world knows what's going on, and I'm the only one kept in the dark."
Her voice trembled. "It's so isolating."
Damien looked at her reddened eyes, a suffocating wave of despair washing over him.
He knew he had reopened her old wounds.
The trauma she had endured with the Hart family and the Ward family had never truly healed.
"I'm sorry. I was wrong."
Damien stood up and pulled her into his arms, ignoring her weak struggles.
"Grace, you can hit me, you can yell at me, just don't push me away."
"Please."
Wrapped in his embrace, Grace felt her resolve crumble.
Old Mrs. Clarke had told her to play the part, to throw a tantrum and act completely unreasonable for once.
But his embrace was too warm, melting away her ability to keep up the act.
"Let go!"
Grace sniffled. "You're crushing me."
Damien quickly loosened his grip, but he still refused to let her go completely.
"So you aren't mad anymore?"
"Who said I wasn't mad?"
Grace glared at him. "Confess now, and I might go easy on you. Tell me, what exactly happened? Why did Ivy move out? What have you been so busy with these past few days? And what was up with that phone call?"
Damien froze.
That phone call?
"What phone call?"

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