Chapter 9
Madeline was still basking in her dream of marrying into wealth when Grayson’s icy words snapped her back to reality.
He stared at her like she’d just told the world’s most ridiculous joke.
“What are you even thinking? I never planned to marry you–not even as a cover. Not in a million years.”
“The only woman I’ll ever marry in this lifetime is Savannah.”
“You? You were nothing but a toy.”
His voice was like ice, flat and emotionless. He lit a cigarette, smoke curling around his face until all that remained was a cold, distant outline.
“You’ve been with me this long–you should know your place by now.”
Madeline stood there, stunned.
Grayson had always treated her like a treasure–designer bags worth tens of thousands, jewelry that cost six figures–anything she wanted, she got.
He’d once skipped a major deal just to vacation with her.
And every time the ‘kidnapping games‘ ended, he always took her side.
She truly believed his love for her was real–unshakable, irreplaceable. So how could he now throw it all away like it meant nothing?
It had to be a joke.
She tried to force a smile, to brush it off. But when she looked into Grayson’s eyes –
What she saw there was the same contempt rich men showed to beggars on the street. That cold, sneering look she’d seen all her life in
the slums.
Grayson might let her stay by his side, might spoil her rotten, even put her before Savannah–but one line he’d never cross: welcoming her into the Whitaker family.
Madeline knew better than to push him. She forced a giggle. “Grayson, I was just kidding. Don’t take it so seriously.”
Grayson let out a breath, some of the frost in his voice melting. “Then stop joking like that.”
He was never short on distractions, but that night, in a house without Savannah, for the first time ever–he felt truly alone.
He got up to grab some water, but somehow, he found himself standing in Savannah’s room instead.
It was a mess–everything overturned and broken.
Remnants of the last time she’d set fire to all the gifts he gave her.
He wandered aimlessly inside, pausing at a shattered photo frame on the desk. The photo inside had been ripped in half. His chest tightened
Grayson knelt down and began picking up the pieces. Slowly, carefully, he tried gluing them back together–bit by bit. But no matter how carefully he worked, the cracks remained.
His hands were soon covered in glue. Memories crashed over him.
He collapsed onto Savannah’s bed, burying his face in the pillows she used to sleep on. And in the dead of night, he cried like a lost boy.
“Savannah… come back,” he choked out. “I’m done being angry. I’ll do whatever you want. Just come home.”
But the only thing that answered him… was silence.
In the two weeks Savannah had been missing, Grayson was a wreck.
