Chapter 221: A Good Time

When Mom heard Grant’s question, she didn’t take advantage of him. The way she was raised wouldn’t allow her to strike when someone was already on the ground. But her kindness also didn’t mean her decision would change.Without a word, she gently pulled her hand out of his, and the distance in that small movement was louder than any sentence.

"You two talk," she said softly. "I’ll go cut some fruit."

Grant watched her leave, his eyes following her like he was finally seeing the weight of everything he’d done. A deep sigh dragged out of him, rough and heavy.

"So the real mastermind is Zack," he said at last, voice low. "And his goal is to take over the Ashbourne Group?"

I nodded. "Yes. He didn’t come from anything good, but he’s sharp. When he was younger, he used Monica her looks, her charm to fund his life and his studies. Later, when he gained some capital, he climbed higher by marrying a rich girl."

I paused, then added, "He loves his wife, but his ambition is bigger than his love. He never truly let Monica go. He kept her around because we were always the real target."

Grant’s eyes stayed on mine. "So what do you plan to do?"

"At first, I wasn’t going to interfere in your mess," I admitted. "But he shouldn’t have dragged Mom into it. And definitely not the baby she’s carrying. I’m not letting him win."

I hesitated, then looked at the report again before I looked back at Grant. "The only problem is Lincy."

My voice lowered. "You’ve protected her for years. I’m worried you’ll still show her mercy."

Grant glanced down at the paternity report, and a cold, bitter smile tugged at his mouth. "She wants me dead, and you think I’ll spare her?" His eyes hardened. "If Zack wants my company, let’s see if he can stomach what comes with it."

I reminded him calmly, "Tomorrow is the grand opening of Zack’s new company. His wife and his whole family will be there."

Grant lifted one brow. "Then let’s give him a gift."

Relief loosened something in my chest. Talking to Grant when he was finally thinking clearly felt... efficient. My job was exposing Monica and Zack. What Grant decided to do with that truth was on him.

That afternoon, I confirmed Bridget’s flight was landing. With a big event like this Zack’s first company abroad his family had come to celebrate. And a husband like him would obviously show up in person to play the perfect man.

I couldn’t deny it: Zack was smart. Without Bridget’s family, he wouldn’t have gotten this far. He used women like stepping stones and called it strategy.

But greed always ends the same way.

At noon, Lincy came to deliver lunch.

The second she saw me in Grant’s office, her face darkened. "Why are you here again?"

Grant didn’t react the way he used to. He stayed calm, quiet, almost too quiet, studying her face like he was looking at a stranger.

Up close, Lincy didn’t resemble him at all. He used to tell himself she looked like Monica, and he never questioned it. But now, with the truth sitting in his hands, he could see it clearly.

She looked like Zack.

There was no need for another test. It was written all over her features.

Grant spoke lightly, as if nothing had changed. "She’s my daughter. Are you surprised to see her here?"

Lincy immediately latched onto the chance to complain. "Dad, you’re being biased! Are you going to let Riley work at the company? I want to work here too."

Grant let out a small laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. "You think you’re worthy?"

Lincy froze, genuinely confused. He had never spoken to her like that.

"Dad... did I do something wrong?" Her voice softened fast. "Don’t hate me, okay? I’ll change."

Grant didn’t expose her. Not yet. He only said, "I’m busy. Leave the food. I’ll eat later."

Lincy’s jaw tightened. "Then what about my chance to join the company?"

"We’ll talk later." Grant lifted a hand, and his assistant moved in to escort her out.

Grant and I followed at a distance, trailing her into the underground garage.

Yenick was waiting, just like I expected. The moment he saw her, his face lit up with false concern.

"Lincy, did your dad agree to let you join the company?"

Lincy’s voice turned sharp with anger. "No. Lately he’s been treating that b*tch too well. No matter how much I beg, it’s useless. I don’t know why, but something feels off. Dad’s acting strange."

Yenick’s panic was even uglier than Lincy’s. "Then try harder. Riley is obviously fighting for the inheritance. Now her mom is pregnant again. If you don’t do something, you’ll get nothing from the Ashbourne s’ money."

I glanced at Grant.

His face was turning darker by the second. Because that was the truth of it these people were thinking about his money while he was still alive.

Lincy crossed her arms, voice cold. "He’s still upset about the past. What do you want me to do?" She lowered her tone. "I already increased the dosage. Who knows when it’ll finally kick in?"

Yenick didn’t flinch. "Relax. I’ll buy a new bag for you."

My stomach tightened.

So she knew. And Yenick was involved too.

They got into the car and drove off.

Grant and I stepped out of the shadows. He lit a cigarette with hands that didn’t look steady at all. I understood what he’d been hoping for some excuse, some version where Lincy was innocent and manipulated.

"Riley... I’m sorry."

"It’s fine," I said quietly. "It’s in the past."

The real Riley never got the apology she deserved. She was gone. I didn’t need his guilt I only wanted justice to land where it belonged.

Grant stood there in the dim light, jaw tight, one hand still injured, the other clenched so hard I could see the veins rise.

Then he murmured, almost to himself, "Since my marriage is broken... why should they get to live in peace?"

That afternoon, Zack did go to the airport.

From a distance, I watched his "perfect" family crowd around him like a happy advertisement. Bridget held their youngest barely five. Zack hugged her, kissed her, lifted the child, then turned to speak warmly with his father-in-law like the devoted husband and responsible son-in-law he pretended to be.

His assistant carried their luggage.

It looked bright. It looked loving.

And it was all a lie Monica never got to see until Grant made sure she did.

He had already sent her an anonymous package, stuffed with proof of Zack’s devotion to his wife over the years. The kind of proof that makes excuses collapse.

Zack had told Monica he didn’t love Bridget. That he would divorce her soon. Monica believed him because she wanted to believe she was chosen.

So when she saw the evidence, she snapped. Denied it. Trembled with jealousy.

And then she came to see it with her own eyes.

From the shadows, she watched Zack kiss Bridget like he couldn’t wait another second. She watched him hold his son like the boy was his pride. She watched the family laugh together like nothing ugly existed.

It stabbed her.

Love or not no woman is that blind.

Jealousy rotted inside her fast. And like I expected, Monica arranged another meeting with Zack, in the same hotel room.

A perfect stage.

Grant and I watched from our side, silent.

The moment Monica entered, she started demanding proof. She listed everything she’d done for Zack over the years, every sacrifice, every dirty choice. With every word, Grant’s face grew colder.

Some of what she confessed had burned Riley and Lena too.

In the end, Zack soothed Monica with sweet lies the way he always did, and they ended up tangled together again like nothing mattered except their hunger.

I couldn’t stomach it. I shut the monitor off.

Grant kept smoking. The air between us turned thick and awkward. I cleared my throat gently.

"Dad... are you hungry?"

He didn’t answer that. Instead, he said quietly, "Riley... I’m sorry for everything you and Lena suffered."

Then, for the first time in a long time, he reached out and touched my head like a real father. His voice was rough.

"It won’t happen again. I won’t let you suffer anymore."

Zack left soon after, rushing home to perform for his wife.

And Monica still wrapped in that post-passion haze heard the doorbell ring.

I turned the monitor back on.

The real show was starting.

"Who is it?" Monica called, voice lazy.

"Room service."

Wrapped in a bathrobe, she walked to the door without suspicion and pulled it open.

And there, filling the doorway like a shadow she couldn’t escape, stood Grant.

His gaze was cold. His voice was quiet, but it cut straight through the room.

"Did you have a good time?"