Chapter 87

The sun had begun its slow descent, leaving shadows across the Blackwood estate, but Grace had yet to return.

Marco stood near the entrance while tapping his fingers impatiently against his arm as he checked his watch for what felt like the hundredth time. Hours had passed since she had left. At first, he told himself not to worry. She needed space. He had seen the way she looked at him earlier today—the way she had shut him out and put up walls even he could not break through. He had assumed she would come back when she was ready.

But Grace was not the type of person to handle her emotions rationally.

The minutes stretched into hours, and a nagging sense of unease settled in his chest. Something felt wrong. She was reckless, but never careless. No matter how destructive her emotions became, she always carried herself with a certain level of control—a stubborn will that refused to be perceived as weak.

And yet, he felt like she has been taking her time.