Chapter 102

I, Grace Blackwood,

was many things. A

fighter, a survivor, and an expert at making people wish they’d never crossed me.

But fuck me—I was not, in any universe, a woman who wore heels.

So, here I was, trapped in some kind of cruel joke while wearing a blue satin long dress that made me look like I belonged in a fucking princess movie or some shit. I had no idea how they managed to get the dress on me without me doing my usual “slap it off” routine, but now here I was, trapped in a fabric prison with these damn shoes that could only be described as torture devices.

I glared at my feet, knowing deep down I was going to regret it.

“Alright, let’s see you walk, Miss Blackwood,” one of the maids said, her voice almost a little too cheerful for my taste.

I could do this. I was graceful—at least that’s what they always said about me when I was running from people and punching them in the face.

“Yeah, I know how to walk, you idiots,” I muttere