Grace froze.
Dominic did not move.
The meaning took several seconds to settle.
When it did, it did not bring relief.
It brought fury.
“You lied.”
His eyes returned to her.
“Yes.”
The word came without defense.
Grace’s fingers tightened around the envelope.
“You stood there and watched me believe I had wasted years loving someone who felt nothing.”
“I thought if you hated me, you would leave.”
“And that was your solution?”
“It was the cleanest one.”
Grace stared at him in disbelief.
“Clean for whom?”
Dominic had no answer.
“Because it wasn’t clean for me,” she said.
“You don’t get to carve someone open and call it protection because you had a reason.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Her voice finally broke—not into tears, but into anger.
“You thought loving me gave you the right to choose what truth I could survive.”
Dominic absorbed the words without interruption.
“That isn’t love,” Grace said.
“That’s control wearing love’s coat.”
For once, Dominic Vale looked like a man with no weapon available to him.
Grace slid the envelope back into her pocket.
“I am leaving.”
His expression hardened instinctively.
“You’re pregnant.”
“Yes.”
“It’s late.”
“Yes.”
“The roads are bad.”
“I can see the rain.”
“You should stay until morning.”
Grace shook her head.
“No.”
“Grace—”
“You wanted me gone badly enough to make me believe you never loved me.
You don’t get to reverse that decision because you discovered I’m carrying something you suddenly can’t bear to lose.”
The accusation struck exactly where she intended.
Dominic’s eyes closed briefly.
When they opened, the command had disappeared from his face.
“What do you want me to do?”
The question was so unfamiliar coming from him that Grace nearly missed its significance.
He had finally asked.
Not decided.
Asked.
“I want you to let me walk out that door.”
Every instinct in Dominic seemed to reject the request.
Grace saw it happen.
His shoulders tensed.
His gaze flicked toward the corridor.
His mouth opened once, then closed.
