Chapter 51 Grace Nash

I Hope It's Broken

Four Months After the Wedding

A sense of sadness pervades me as the plane touches down. It's a little after midnight, and I hate that we're apart again—especially after a weekend where we both said the words that have been building between us for months now.

It's after two in the morning by the time I get home, and I head straight to bed, knowing it'll be an early morning tomorrow after missing yet another weekend here at the vineyard.

I toss and turn all night. To be honest, I slept much better in Spencer's arms.

I glance out the front window a little after seven as I'm brewing my coffee when I see movement out front, and I spot Drew as he drives over toward the production facility to start his day there.

I head over to the office a little before eight since I'm up and ready…and exhausted. It's the kind of bone-tired exhaustion that even caffeine can't quite touch. I turn my computer on and run through my task list for the day .

I'm meeting with one of our distributors later this week who has big plans for getting our wines into some local restaurants, and if I can close this deal, it'll be a huge win for me. Nana once shared that she has visions of our wines being sold in grocery stores across the country, and this is a big stepping stone for turning that vision into a reality.

But as I look at my calendar for Wednesday's meeting, it's not there.

My heart sinks as I look a week ahead, thinking maybe I'm just off a week, but it's not there either.

I have a feeling I know exactly what happened, and I'm going to fucking kill her.

I storm into Amelia's office, but she isn't in yet—of course. Why would she be early for once in her life?

So I storm over to her bungalow and start banging on her front door.

It takes her a few beats before she answers the door, and when she does, she looks…disheveled. She's dressed for the day, but she looks like she's been working out or something, and she's acting a little strange, not opening her door to let me in.

There's no time to focus on that when I'm here on a mission. "What the hell did you do with my distributor meeting?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Maybe you need to keep better track of your own schedule." She folds her arms but keeps her foot on the back of the door to not let me see in.

"Did you delete it from my calendar to mess with me? I know when my meetings are, Amelia. This isn't going to work."

She rolls her eyes. "No, I didn't delete it to mess with you. I deleted it because it already took place."

Ice runs through my veins. "What did you just say?"

"We had the meeting on Friday. Shawna was all too happy to chat with me a few days earlier than expected." She smiles sweetly and moves to slam the door in my face, but I shove on it until it opens, and I push my way inside.

"Are you kidding me?"

"No. I would never joke about something as important to me as our family vineyard." She holds a hand over her heart as she fakes earnestness. "Now get the hell out of my house. "

I rush toward her and push her, knocking her a little off-balance.

"What is wrong with you?" I yell at her. "Why do you hate me so much?"

"Are you kidding me? My entire life, you've been a splinter in my heel, and then you have the fucking nerve to marry the man I loved? The man who asked me to marry him first! There's no way in hell you're getting this place!" She's screaming at me now, so I scream back.

"You were cheating on him! You never loved him!"

"You don't know a goddamn thing about me, Grace!" she says, poking a finger into my chest. "You never bothered!"

Is she right?

No. I know for damn sure this whole feud between us started the second I slipped out of the womb.

I slap her hand out of the way, and I move toward her, anger filling me.

I had such a wonderful, peaceful weekend with the man I've fallen head over heels for, and this is what I have to return to.

I can't do it. I can't be at the same vineyard as this vile person who so badly wants me to fail.

And so I will do whatever it takes to take her out of the equation.

Not in a sinister sense. I'm not going to kill her or anything—at least not the way she tried to do to me with that mustard prank.

But I'm going to win this place if it's the last goddamn thing I do.

"I hate you," I hiss, and I rush toward her and push her with all my might.

She grabs hold of my hair, twisting it as my head yanks to the side. "Are you really going to stand here thinking you're stronger than me?" Her tone is full of scorn, and unfortunately, she's probably right. She's got four or five inches on me, and she's always been strong.

The pain from where she's pulling my hair nearly makes me fall, but I take a jab at her anyway, trying to punch her in the stomach from my angle but not hitting her nearly as hard as I mean to. "Maybe you're physically stronger, but I'd like to remind you that you tried to convince my husband to marry you for two years. It took me all of two seconds."

"You bitch!" she screams, and she lets go of my hair and slaps me across the face.

I reach up to touch the spot where it's stinging, a little shocked that she'd actually slap me. I glare at her as tears fill my eyes, and I take a menacing step toward her. She flinches for a beat, and I'm glad I can pulse even the tiniest bit of fear in her.

"You're going to regret that," I hiss.

She reaches her hand up to do it again, balking at my threat, and I grab her wrist and start to twist it as hard as I can.

"Ow! Fuck! Let go!" she screeches at me, trying to get out of my grasp, but I don't let go. I keep twisting. "Stop! Fuck! Stop!"

She's still screaming at me when I spot a movement out of the corner of my eye, followed by a man's voice.

"Stop!"

"Pete?" I ask, letting go of her wrist.

Her disheveled appearance. Her attempt to get rid of me.

It all comes together.

"Are you two…" I trail off as I look between the two of them. I shake my head as I try to puzzle this out in my own mind, but I'm coming up short because I can only focus on one thought that hits me like a ton of bricks.

Pete the chef.

The ground mustard.

Oh my God, the ground mustard. I thought Pete was my friend , but this is how she poisoned me. She slept with Pete and had him sprinkle it on my food.

She's cheating on Drew just like she cheated on Spencer, and she's going to end up with the vineyard because no matter what, she always wins. No matter the cost.

No matter the casualties.

She looks almost guilty as she cradles her twisted wrist in her other hand, and good. I hope I broke it.

I shake my head as I look between the two of them, and then I storm out of her bungalow, set to wreak havoc.

The only problem? She beats me to the punch.