Chapter 13 - Lauren’s Last Move
Lauren’s final move came from prison.
A letter.
Not to Ethan.
To Grace.
The envelope passed through Evelyn first.
“You do not have to read it.”
“I know.”
“Why do you want to?”
“I don’t know.”
“Excellent legal standard.”
Grace smiled.
Then opened it.
Lauren’s handwriting was surprisingly neat.
Grace,
I have started this letter nineteen times.
Grace almost stopped immediately.
Then continued.
I am not writing to ask forgiveness.
Good.
I hated you before I knew you.
Grace’s breath changed.
Not because of Ethan.
Because of Michael.
There it was.
Lauren wrote that losing her position at Mercer became the central humiliation of her life.
She believed Michael destroyed her career.
Even after evidence undermined her accusation.
Even after her own undisclosed payments were exposed.
She built a narrative where Mercer power explained every consequence.
Then she found Grace.
The sister who walked away from that power.
Lauren became obsessed.
You had the name I believed ruined me and treated it like something you could simply put down.
Grace stared.
That sentence contained more psychology than any villain confession she expected.
Lauren resented Grace for possessing something she wanted and did not value in the same way.
Status.
Access.
A family empire.
Then Lauren found Ethan.
At first he was a route.
Grace’s stomach tightened.
Then he became a person.
Then he became a mirror.
Lauren wrote that Ethan resented Mercer power too.
Different reasons.
Same emotional frequency.
She admired him.
He admired her.
Their affair became real.
At least to Lauren.
I told myself you were the obstacle.
The wife who didn’t appreciate him.
The Mercer who didn’t appreciate what she had.
The woman who somehow had everything while people like us had to fight for it.
Grace laughed bitterly.
Everything.
No one who had everything spent years selling heirlooms and hiding pain to keep others comfortable.
Lauren continued.
The night of your anniversary, I wanted him to choose me in front of you.
There it was.
Not business.
Not Northbridge.
Not Southgate.
A woman wanting to win.
That is why I went.
The business plan said stay hidden.
I didn’t.
Grace remembered Lauren’s black dress.
The perfume.
Her hand around Ethan’s arm.
I knew you were probably pregnant.
I was afraid if he saw the baby, he would stay.
Grace’s eyes filled.
So I told him you already knew about us and planned to trap him with the announcement.
Lauren admitted it.
Explicitly.
I wanted him angry before he walked in.
Grace stopped reading.
Her hands shook.
Not because the information was new.
Because intention sounded different in first person.
She breathed.
Then continued.
I did not know he would hit you.
When he did, I was shocked.
Then, for one terrible second, I was glad.
Grace closed her eyes.
There it was.
The ugliest truth.
I thought: now she can never take him back.
Then your brothers arrived.
Grace remembered Lauren’s face.
Fear.
Recognition.
When Michael looked at me, I was twenty-seven again.
Everything I had spent years blaming on him came back.
I ran because I knew the Southgate plan would unravel if anyone looked hard enough.
Then:
You asked me that night to leave your house.
I should have.
Not because it was yours.
Because Ethan was not mine to win.
Grace’s throat tightened.
The next lines surprised her.
Neither was Michael’s career mine to destroy because I hated being held accountable.
Neither was Southgate mine to manipulate because I thought smarter people deserved to take what rule-followers protected.
Lauren admitted enough.
Not everything.
But enough.
Then one line:
I spent years believing power meant getting into rooms other people tried to keep me out of.
I know now power also means leaving when you no longer belong there.
Grace put the letter down.
Evelyn waited.
“Well?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want to respond?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Grace looked at the pages.
“I believe parts.”
“You don’t have to decide.”
That helped.
Lauren’s remorse could be genuine.
Or prison reflection.
Or strategic.
Grace did not need certainty.
The letter did not earn access.
It gave information.
Grace placed it in a file.
Not destroyed.
Not displayed.
Stored.
A week later, Ethan learned Lauren had written.
He did not ask what it said.
That mattered.
Old Ethan would have.
New Ethan understood Grace’s information belonged to Grace.
Their co-parenting continued.
Rose was three now.
Opinionated.
Obsessed with dinosaurs.
She called Michael “Uncle Mike,” Daniel “Uncle Dan,” and Caleb “Uncle Cabbage” because she could not say Caleb at first and the name became permanent.
Caleb hated it publicly.
Privately he bought cabbage-themed socks.
Rose knew her parents did not live together.
She did not know why.
Grace and Ethan agreed on simple language.
“Mommy and Daddy are better in different homes.”
No blame.
No invented harmony.
When Rose asked:
“Do you love Daddy?”
Grace froze.
Children were ruthless.
“I care about Daddy.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Ethan’s stubbornness lived in her.
Grace smiled.
“I loved him once in a married way.”
Rose frowned.
“What way?”
“A grown-up way.”
“Do you now?”
“No.”
Rose accepted this instantly.
“Daddy loves pancakes.”
“Correct.”
Conversation over.
Grace envied children’s efficiency.
One evening Ethan dropped Rose off.
She ran inside.
Then Ethan lingered.
“Can I ask something?”
Grace looked at him.
“Yes.”
“Are you dating?”
Old alarm flashed.
He raised his hand.
“Not my business. Sorry.”
Grace studied him.
“Why ask?”
He looked embarrassed.
“Rose mentioned Alex.”
Grace’s pulse changed.
Alex Moreno.
Architect.
Southgate advisory consultant.
Divorced.
Kind.
They had been seeing each other quietly for four months.
Grace had not introduced him to Rose beyond a group setting.
“Rose met him at Daniel’s barbecue.”
“Okay.”
Ethan looked down.
“I had a reaction.”
Grace waited.
“Then I remembered reaction is not authority.”
That sentence almost made her smile.
“And?”
“I’m working on it.”
“Good.”
He turned to leave.
Grace surprised herself.
“Ethan.”
He looked back.
“Yes. I’m dating.”
His face tightened.
Then relaxed.
“Is he good to you?”
Grace thought about the question.
“Yes.”
Ethan nodded.
“Then I’m glad.”
She believed he wanted to be.
That was enough.
He walked away.
Grace closed the door.
Her heart hurt slightly.
Not because she wanted him.
Because endings remained endings even after healing.
She went to the kitchen.
Alex was not there.
She was not rushing.
No one moved into her house because romance felt good for four months.
No one received a key because he asked sweetly.
Grace had learned.
May you like
Trust could be generous and slow.
The two qualities were not enemies.
