Chapter 23

Grace packed her luggage—a few changes of clothes. Jason had assured her that toiletries were available at Reed Residence. He’d preferred she leave her clothes behind, but she insisted, saying, “I’m used to these clothes; they’re comfortable.” He conceded.

After packing, Grace started to lift her duffel bag, but Jason intercepted her. “I’ll take care of it,” he said.

They left the rental house, Grace trailing behind Jason. His unpredictability struck her again—gentle one moment, capable of terrifying violence the next. Returning to Reed Residence with him only deepened the ambiguity of their relationship.

When would she be free of him? Would she have to wait until he tired of her? Lost in thought, she stared at the scarf around his neck—a scarf she’d knitted from old wool. She never expected him to wear it, along with matching gloves, to a party filled with elites. Online comments speculated about luxury brands and renowned designers; no one guessed at its humble origins. As he’d said, whether it suited him was entirely his decision.

Outside, Grace saw the familiar black car. Terrence emerged, quickly approaching Jason and taking the duffel bag. Jason turned to Grace, who lingered a few feet behind. “What’s wrong? Let’s go.” He offered his hand.

She hesitated, biting her lip, then lifted her foot, but didn't take his hand. He frowned and withdrew it. As she bent to enter the car, he leaned down, his lips near her ear. “You may not want to hold my hand today,” he whispered, “but sooner or later, you won’t want to let go.”

Her body froze; her heart seemed to stop. Inside the car, she saw his hand resting on her lap—long, elegant fingers. Sooner or later, you won’t let go. Could that be true?

Reed Residence’s gates swung open, the car gliding onto the grounds. Ancient, centuries-old trees lined the driveway, lush and evergreen. Through the window, Grace glimpsed adjoining buildings, unable to fully grasp the estate's vastness. She’d seen wealthy homes before—the Stevens residence, for example—but Reed Residence dwarfed it, a palace compared to a villa.

The car pulled up to the main house. Jason naturally took her hand as they entered, and Grace felt the weight of curious, amazed, and shocked gazes.

A butler, appearing to be in his fifties or sixties, approached. “Young Master,” he said respectfully, “This is…?”

“This is Grace,” Jason replied. “She’ll be staying here for a few days.” He introduced them. “This is Uncle Kwan, the butler. If you need anything, you can ask him.”