XXXVI

The air in Grace's house was thick, charged with a tension she could no longer ignore. After her conversation with Robert, her mind refused to find peace. Her son's words, innocent as they were, echoed in her thoughts like an unrelenting drumbeat. "Lord Haspirin helped me with math, Mom. He was very kind, almost like... he's known me for a long time." Those words crashed into her mind like a wave, crumbling the protective shield she had built over the years.

She stood up from the chair and began pacing the room, feeling as though every thought wrapped around her like chains, tightening with every step. Uncertainty and a sense of betrayal filled her chest, growing with each passing moment. There were no longer any doubts in her heart: Marcus was there, hiding behind a false identity. But the worst part wasn't just that he had returned—it was that he had done so without telling the truth, getting close to Robert without her consent, without explanations. Her son, the one she had vowed to protect, was now under the influence of the very man who had caused her so much pain.

It felt as though her world was on the verge of collapse... Why had he come back? What did he want now? The most painful part was realizing how long Marcus had been lying, playing with her emotions. A knot formed in her chest, a pressure that made it hard to breathe. She couldn't go on like this, couldn't bear the deceit and manipulation any longer. Her breathing became shallow, as if the confusion was suffocating her. The betrayal burned like a fire with no escape.

She had to confront him. Not just for Robert, but for herself. Over the years, she had learned to build walls around her heart, walls that had protected her from the pain of remembering. But now, those walls were crumbling, and if she didn't stop him, Marcus would tear down everything she had built to keep herself safe. With a resolve she hadn't felt in a long time, she made the decision to act. She wasn't going to wait for him to speak, wasn't going to let him continue manipulating the situation as he pleased. She was going to confront Westlin that very night.

The cold wind whipped against her face as she walked with determination toward the house that, until recently, had been merely the residence of an impostor. Now, with every step she took, the name Lord Haspirin felt more hollow and false. Hadn't Lesly said it sounded strange? Of course it did! Because behind that false front had always been Marcus. It had always been him.

As she advanced, the memories flooded back—how he had kidnapped her, how he had kept her captive under the false accusation of being an imposter, how each day by his side had been a battle for emotional survival. "How could he have hurt me so much?" All that pain, all that anguish, and now, after a decade, he appeared as if nothing had happened, pretending to be another man. The rage boiled in her chest, mingling with uncertainty. Why had he really returned? What was his purpose? Was this some kind of revenge? Or had he faked his identity to drag her back to London and imprison her? Her chest tightened at the thought of possible answers, at the hidden motives he might have. The uncertainty was as deep as the cold night that was beginning to fall.

The trees lining the street seemed to lean toward her, their branches creaking as if whispering what was to come. The sky darkened, and the only light she could see came from Marcus's house. When she reached the entrance, her heart was pounding, but her resolve did not falter. With a firm knock, she struck the door, ready to demand answers to the questions tormenting her.

The door opened with a faint creak, revealing the young butler. His usual smile faded instantly when he noticed the tension in Grace's posture. The shadows under her eyes and the rigidity of her body unsettled him at once.

"Can I help you with something, Lady Grace?" he asked cautiously, his eyes scanning her face.

Grace did not hesitate for a second.

"I need to see your master," she said, her voice firm, laden with such restrained emotion that Holloway immediately knew something was wrong.

"Of course, follow me," he replied, unable to keep a slight nervousness from creeping into his voice. The shadows beneath her eyes and the fierce gleam in her gaze told him that something was indeed amiss.

With a slight gesture, Holloway led her to the drawing room where Marcus was. Upon reaching the door, he leaned slightly toward Grace.

"If you'll excuse me, I believe it's best if I leave you two alone," he murmured, before discreetly withdrawing, fully aware of the gravity of the situation.

Silence fell like a heavy blanket over the room. There was Marcus, standing by the fireplace, still wearing the mask he used to conceal his face. As he saw her enter, his rigid posture softened slightly, but he couldn't hide the surprise in his eyes. For a few moments, they stood in silence, gazing at one another, the air thick with a thousand unspoken emotions.

When he realized she was at the door, he thought Holloway's plan had worked as expected. But as he saw her there, staring at him in silence, he knew she hadn't come to thank him for helping Robert—she had come to uncover the truth. The game was over, and what would follow were the consequences. That uncertainty terrified him more than anything else.

It was she who broke the silence, her voice filled with pain and anger, as if her chest had been torn open mere moments before.

"Why?" Although it sounded almost like a whisper, her voice carried a strength that reverberated through the room. "Why did you come back, Marcus?" she called him by his real name, bluntly, without giving him the chance to hide any longer. "What are you trying to accomplish with all of this? Why did you approach Robert?"

Westlin tensed at the sound of his name. He knew this moment would come, yet he had not anticipated how devastating it would be. The pain in Grace's eyes pierced him like a poisoned arrow, striking at the deepest parts of his soul. He took a deep breath before speaking, trying to find words that might calm the storm he saw in her.

"Grace..." he began, his voice low, almost inaudible, "all this time, I've lived with the anguish of what I did to you." He paused, but her eyes demanded him to continue. "I came back because I discovered the truth. I learned you weren't guilty of what I accused you of." His voice cracked slightly. "I've spent ten years in regret, but I didn't know how to come back. I didn't know how to ask for your forgiveness."

Silence returned to the room for a moment, though it was a silence heavy with tension. Grace clenched her fists, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. Marcus's words cut deeply, not because they were unexpected, but because hearing his remorse only made all the pain resurface with even greater force.

"And you thought the best way to fix it was by hiding?" she shouted, incredulous, staring at him. "By getting close to my son as if it were some kind of game? He's my son, Marcus! " Her voice rose, anger spilling over. "How could you approach him without telling me the truth? What do you want from us?"

Marcus lowered his head, feeling the weight of his guilt as never before. He knew she was right, that he had made a grave mistake by hiding behind a false identity. But how could he explain that he didn't know how to face her, that he feared losing the chance for redemption more than anything? His guilt had consumed him for all those years, and now, confronted with the truth, he felt powerless.

"I did it wrong," he admitted, his voice filled with despair, barely able to speak. "I never should have hidden. But I wanted to come back into your life, any way I could..." He paused, feeling the burden of his own words.

"Come back into my life?" she scoffed with bitter sarcasm.

"Yes, Grace. I came back to say what I couldn't back then." As she raised an eyebrow, he continued, "I love you, Grace. I loved you then, I love you now. And I can't live without you."

The echo of his words hung in the air like a long-suppressed confession. She stared at him, stunned. For a moment, memories of their last days together flooded her mind—his tenderness, the way he had cared for her, those gestures that once seemed filled with love and passion. Sleeping beside him. Those images now fueled her rage, tearing her apart inside. She couldn't allow herself to feel that—not now.

"No," she finally uttered, her voice breaking. "You can't show up after ten years and tell me you love me like that's enough to fix everything you destroyed."

"Grace..." he murmured.

"I will never forgive you! I don't want you in my life, or in my son's! Do you understand?"

"But… I've changed," he persisted, desperate for her to understand. "I know I was wrong, and I love you."

"That's not enough for me, Lord Westlin!" she cried before turning and storming out.

As the door slammed shut behind her, Marcus collapsed to his knees in front of the fireplace, feeling as if the world had crumbled beneath his feet. He knew he had lost her, and with her, the chance at redemption. But he also knew that he couldn't give up. There was still a glimmer of hope worth fighting for.