Chapter 9 - PRESTON WANTS HIS WIFE BACK
Preston waited ten days before contacting Grace again.
Not because patience came naturally.
Because Grace stopped answering.
He sent one message:
I understand why you need space. I will not come to the hotel again. When you are ready, I would like to apologize without asking you for anything.
She did not reply.
That silence forced him into something unfamiliar.
Work without reassurance.
At Arden, the Langford problem worsened.
Beatrice did not cancel all contracts.
She informed Preston that two upcoming renewals would be rebid.
Commercially defensible.
Terrifying.
Elena Park immediately began building a survival plan.
“Cut capital spending.”
“Done.”
“Freeze nonessential hiring.”
“Done.”
“Sell the unused Kentucky warehouse.”
“Market it.”
“Talk to MidStates Equipment.”
“They already rejected us last year.”
“Call again.”
Preston did.
He spent hours doing work Grace once told him a CEO should do before dependency became crisis.
He hated discovering she had been right.
Two weeks later, Grace finally agreed to meet.
At a coffee shop.
Public.
Neutral.
Preston arrived early.
No suit.
Grace noticed.
“You look tired.”
“I am.”
She sat.
He did not ask whether she was coming home.
That earned him nothing.
But Grace noticed.
He began.
“I read the prenup.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“All of it?”
“Yes.”
“Congratulations.”
“I deserved that.”
She said nothing.
“I didn’t understand what you built into it.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you explain?”
“I did.”
He frowned.
“You told me you didn’t want family money in the marriage.”
“That was the explanation.”
He looked down.
“Right.”
Grace took coffee.
Preston continued.
“I’m sorry.”
She waited.
“For telling you to kneel.”
Her face remained still.
“Not because your father walked in.”
He forced himself to hold her eyes.
“I’m sorry because I used your dignity as a bargaining chip.”
Something changed in her expression.
He continued.
“I was afraid.”
“I know.”
“That doesn’t excuse it.”
“No.”
“I’m not going to explain anymore.”
She nodded slowly.
Silence.
Then Grace asked:
“Would you have apologized if Dad never walked in?”
Preston looked down.
“I don’t know.”
She appreciated the honesty more than a rehearsed yes.
He continued.
“I want to believe I would.”
“But?”
“The truth is I might have spent the next day convincing myself you were unreasonable.”
Grace’s eyes filled.
He looked sick saying it.
“I might have told myself the company mattered more.”
She nodded.
“That is the version of you I’m afraid of.”
“I know.”
“Preston.”
“Sorry.”
She almost smiled.
He corrected.
“I understand.”
They sat quietly.
Then he said:
“Langford is rebidding two contracts.”
Grace’s expression sharpened.
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because it’s happening.”
“Do you want help?”
“No.”
She looked surprised.
“I mean—yes. I want help. I want you to tell me what to do. I want Nathaniel to make one call and make Beatrice disappear.”
Grace watched him.
“But I’m not asking.”
“Why?”
“Because if Arden survives only because I married you, then I learned nothing.”
Her face softened.
He continued.
“Elena and I are cutting costs, selling Kentucky, and trying MidStates again.”
Grace nodded.
“That’s sensible.”
“I should’ve done it six months ago.”
“Yes.”
He almost smiled.
“Still direct.”
“You liked that once.”
“I still do.”
The sentence hung between them.
Grace looked away.
Preston took a breath.
“I love you.”
She closed her eyes.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
He looked surprised.
Grace continued.
“That’s what makes this complicated.”
He said nothing.
“I don’t think you married me for money.”
“Obviously.”
“I don’t think you never loved me.”
“Then—”
“But love did not stop you from becoming someone I couldn’t trust.”
His face tightened.
Grace leaned forward.
“And I will not let the fact that you love me become an argument for returning.”
Preston nodded.
“You shouldn’t.”
She studied him.
“What do you want from me today?”
He thought.
Then answered:
“Nothing.”
For once, he meant it.
Grace sat back.
That was the first thing he had done since the dinner that made her believe change might be possible.
Not apology.
Not suffering.
Not fear.
Restraint.
When they left, Preston did not hug her.
Grace did not offer.
He simply said:
“Thank you for meeting me.”
She nodded.
After he walked away, Grace stayed outside the coffee shop for several minutes.
Her father’s driver waited across the street.
She did not immediately get in.
Because for the first time since the slap, the future was no longer obvious.
That frightened her more than anger.
Anger gave direction.
May you like
Possibility required judgment.
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