Chapter 69 Grace Burns Her Diary, Erasing Her Feelings for Him [1]
Their eyes met. Henry saw Grace in her hospital gown, looking pale and frail, her eyes full of despair. The way she looked at him felt heavy and unsettling.
Not long ago, she had been in his arms, softly saying, "Henry, my feelings for you might take years, even decades, to come back. By then, will you still want me?"
Henry had promised he would. But later, he had trampled on her genuine feelings.
After a long pause, Henry finally spoke, almost trembling, "Grace!" He tried to take her hand, but she pushed him away.
Grace gave a sad smile, her words coming from deep within. "I was so naive! I actually thought you liked me a little! Even now, you think that night was my setup, that in your heart, I'm nothing. I actually hoped you liked me, hoped that what you said about starting over was true! Henry, how ridiculous, is it that you're too scheming, or am I too foolish!"
"I thought, at most, you didn't like me! Turns out, you just haven't had enough fun! Henry, tell me, when will you have your fill of amusement? When will you release me from this merry-go-round of uncertainty? I can't keep up with this charade any longer!" Grace didn't want to cry, but she couldn't hold back anymore.
She thought, 'even without love, after all this time together, shouldn't there be some sentiment? Yet, after three long years, she was still just a plaything to him.'
Henry still tried to touch her. Grace blocked him more fiercely.
She stepped back, looking fragile in her hospital gown, her face full of tears. Even with tear-filled eyes, she managed a smile. "Henry, don't touch me. I said you're too dirty for me to bear!"
With tears threatening to spill, she swiftly left. Lucas's voice called out from behind her, "Grace!"
But Grace had retreated too far; his voice was lost in the distance, drowned out by her inner turmoil. In her isolated realm now, there was only the haunting echo of Henry's callous words, "I haven't had enough fun yet!" tormenting her fragile heart.
The maid, with tears in her eyes, almost cried out, "Mr. Montague, where were you last night? Mrs. Montague had an acute stomach spasm and was in so much pain she almost died. I called you several times but you didn't answer. If anything happened to Mrs. Montague, how would I explain it to Clara?"
Henry looked at her with a hint of concern. "Grace is sick?"
The maid was about to speak when a woman's cry of pain came from the hospital room, mixed with weak sobs. Henry immediately returned to the room.
She was stunned for a moment and then asked, "Mr. Montague, shouldn't you go after Mrs. Montague first?"
In the hospital room, Elodie was on the ventilator again, and Henry was tied up, unable to leave.
When he finished dealing with things and rushed downstairs, it was raining.
A black car was parked in the rain, the wipers moving back and forth. Grace was already in the car, separated from him by a car window, raindrops sliding down the glass, much like Grace's tears.
The car was locked. Henry pounded on the window. "Grace, open the door! I need to talk to you."
He wanted to tell her that it wasn't what she thought, that his feelings for her weren't as bad as she imagined. He was actually happy when he was with her.
Grace ignored him. In a poignant moment, she looked at him with sorrow, viewing him as a stranger. In a quiet tone, she instructed Sawyer, "Let's go, drive."
Sawyer didn't dare make a sound and stepped on the gas. Half an hour later, Grace returned to the villa. When she got out of the car, she didn't use an umbrella, letting the rain hit her body and face. She felt the rain was cleansing her spirit and emotions. Her shoes left a trail of water stains on the white carpet.
The maid didn't dare to persuade her and just went to make some soup to warm her up.
Grace went upstairs and the first thing she saw was their "wedding photo."
Henry was reluctant to take it, so she had spent $15,000 to have it photoshopped. She had looked at that fabricated photo countless times, hoping Henry would love her someday. But now, even one more look felt like a mockery!
Grace climbed onto the bed and took the photo down. In her haste, the steel frame scratched her hand, leaving a bloody mark. The red blood dripped down, shocking to see.
Yet Grace seemed unfazed by the pain. With a swift motion, she hurled the frame to the floor. She moved to the vanity and sat down, staring at her disheveled reflection in the mirror.
Grace gazed at the mirror. Tremors rippled through her body, her wet hair clinging to her face. She looked like a tragic figure, a woman forsaken, not just abandoned, but discarded cruelly.
Abandonment would have at least implied past affection. But for Grace, it cut deeper. For six long years, she had poured her heart into him, only to be met with callous words that pierced her soul, "I haven't had enough fun yet!"
Grace lowered her eyes and slowly opened a small drawer, where her diary lay intact, recording all her youthful thoughts and feelings. With her blood-stained hand, she took out the diary.
She dazedly flipped through it, looking at her once numb love for Henry, reminiscing about how foolish she had been!
It read: [On the first day of our marriage, he was very rough, but I thought he would eventually understand that night wasn't intentional.]
[Then, he would treat me gently, he would like me!]
Tears welled up in Grace's eyes, a mixture of sorrow and a sense of being ridiculed engulfing her. Looking back, she couldn't remember what had drawn her to him. The fleeting moments of kindness from Henry now appeared as calculated acts in a grand scheme of deception.
Grace gently closed the diary. She took it along with the photo frame, found Henry's lighter on the nightstand, and slowly walked to the balcony. She was going to burn these ridiculous things, along with her ridiculous love for Henry.
It was still raining, water droplets falling from the stone eaves above the balcony. Grace didn't hesitate; she set the things on fire.
As the flames rose, she took a step back and sat on the lounge chair, the soft orange flames reflecting on her pale face, adding a touch of radiance.
In the courtyard, a black Bentley sped in, screeching to a halt. Henry jumped out of the car and, as he walked into the foyer, he ran into the maid carrying soup upstairs. She saw Henry and said, "Mrs. Montague looks very sad, she's upstairs!"
Henry was about to take a step when he suddenly paused. He smelled something burning! The scent wafted from the second floor, hitting his nose like a ton of bricks. Panic set in as Henry's mind raced through scenarios of disaster.
"Grace! Grace!" He called her name as he quickly ran upstairs.
Grace wasn't in the bedroom, but there were several wet footprints in the room, and the bed was also stained, the marks clear and obvious. Henry's eyes moved up, and the wedding photo above the bed was gone!
Henry seemed to sense something, quickly walking to the vanity. The small drawer was open, and the diary was gone.
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