Chapter 276 Her Family Hadn't See It
Grace shook her head, the fleeting memories already slipping away.
At the entrance of the walk-in closet, Henry stood fresh from the shower, wrapped in a white bathrobe, sipping on a hot cup of coffee. He looked effortlessly attractive, quietly watching Grace as she did her chores.
Grace glanced up and met his gaze.
Henry swirled his coffee cup and said, "That's enough for today. Be here at 7 AM tomorrow to pick me up. You'll need to tidy up the study, bedroom, and closet, and have breakfast with the kids. They've been picky eaters lately. Got any ideas, Ms. Windsor?"
Grace hung up a shirt and replied softly while buttoning it, "Mr. Montague, it's already 11 PM, and tomorrow at 7 AM..."
"Is there a problem?" Before she could finish, Henry cut her off with a firm question, clearly trying to assert his dominance.
Grace's eyes reddened as she said, "No."
Henry put down his coffee cup and walked over to her. His tall, slender figure instantly blocked the light above her head, enveloping her in darkness, along with the faint, fresh scent of his body wash.
He raised his hand and gently touched her face, asking, "Do you really need this job?"
Grace felt humiliated and turned her face away sharply, murmuring, "Yes, I really need this job. So, Mr. Montague, please stop teasing me, okay?"
She was almost pleading and sobbing, but Henry wasn't ready to let her off the hook. He took a step forward, pinning her between him and the clothes rack. He gently wrapped his arm around her slender waist, forcing her body to arch.
Grace's shirt tightened slightly, brushing against Henry's chest. Henry looked down, his eyes filled with the charm of a mature man and a hint of desire.
Grace suddenly recalled the sensation of his fingertips lightly pinching her in the narrow hallway that night, sending a jolt of electricity through her body.
Her legs unconsciously tightened, and she dared not look him in the eye, fearing to see the desire in his eyes.
Henry guessed her reaction and leaned down, his lips close to her ear, whispering, "There's another job, with a much higher salary than a secretary. Want to try it? If you do, I'll take you to bed right now."
Grace wasn't stupid; she understood his meaning. He wanted her to be his mistress.
As long as she was willing to be intimate with him and fulfill his desires, he would provide her with a substantial amount of money. She wouldn't even need to work long hours; she could live a comfortable life.
But she didn't want that. She trembled as she spoke her mind, "I had a husband and kids, but we got separated, and now I'm trying to find them. Mr. Montague, you've got looks and money; you can have any woman you want. But they're all I have, so I can't be your mistress."
Henry's gaze deepened. He suddenly bent down and lifted her onto the glass display cabinet. The cold touch made her panic, and before she could react, he had already lifted her shirt, revealing a black bra underneath.
Below that was her soft yet firm abdomen. Under the bright light, faint stretch marks were visible. Any man who had been married would know what that meant—she had given birth.
Henry said nothing, just quietly watched. He even reached out to gently touch the small patch of muscle, which trembled slightly under his touch, creating an indescribably intimate moment.
Henry's gaze grew even deeper.
Grace lowered her head, her voice tinged with a hint of raspiness. "Yes, Mr. Montague, I admit you are very charming, but my heart belongs to my husband. I don't want to play these games with you because I would lose respect for myself, and I'm even more afraid that one day I won't be able to face my loved one."
After speaking, she looked up, her eyes filled with tears.
At this moment, her face no longer had the pampered look of the past but was marked by a touch of hardship.
Henry hadn't been able to find out her exact whereabouts over the past year, but he could guess that she hadn't been doing well, had suffered a lot, and might not even have had a decent place to stay.
She had been living rough, and just the thought of it made his heart ache, but he didn't show it.
He just slowly pulled her shirt back down, straightened it for her, and focused on her face, asking gently, "Who is your loved one?"
Grace shook her head; she didn't know. She had forgotten her loved one.
Grace left late at night.
Henry sent a car to take her back. As the shiny black car drove away from the villa, Clara came to the master bedroom with the two kids.
Clara wiped her tears and said, "She's lost weight. She must not be doing well."
Avery seldom asked Henry to hold him, but this time he did.
Taylor was both happy and sad. She leaned against Henry and softly asked, "When can I call her mom?"
Henry pressed his face against Avery's and patted Taylor's head, saying hoarsely, "Soon!"
Grace returned to her apartment, and it was almost midnight.
She was exhausted and wanted to sleep, but she forced herself to take a shower. In the bathroom, there was a mirror, and the steam blurred it, but she could still vaguely see her body.
She gently touched her abdomen and suddenly remembered everything that had happened at the villa, even what had happened that night in the shabby motel. Henry's fingertips were slightly dry and warm, brushing against her soft skin.
Grace's heart raced. She stood under the water, letting the hot water wash over her body, thinking, 'You have a loved one, how can you be so easily swayed by a stranger? That kind of man is used to flirting with women; you're just one of his many conquests!'
She didn't dare to think any further. After her shower, she made herself a simple sandwich because it was cheap.
She sat at her small desk, eating in small bites while looking at a newspaper that was already worn out. She had spent $50 to place a missing person ad in the middle of that newspaper.
[Grace is looking for her family]
That small notice was her hope, painstakingly saved through frugality, but after all these days, she hadn't received a single call.
No one was looking for her. Her family hadn't seen it.
Grace quietly stared at it, then fell into a daze. For someone like her, with no memory, if she didn't carry a bit of hope to live on, her life would be meaningless.
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