Arabella's thoughts spun. Hudson? She had heard the name before, granted, only in passing, but hearing it now, in the framework of Grant's comments, made her stomach turn.
Half-brother? It was beyond her comprehension. This was not the Grant she had known. This was not the guy who had sat opposite her in that chilly, antiseptic office, providing her with a contract. The one standing before her now was more complex and more hazardous.
"Destroy you?" she said again, almost inaudibly. "How?"
Grant's eyes darkened, and his presence became weighty and stifling as he approached. His voice fell as if to tell her a secret he found difficult to confess.
"Hudson is merciless. Every opportunity he gets, Hudson has been attempting to undercut me for years. Now that you're here, he will turn you against me."
Arabella stepped back, her head racing to catch up. "What does that imply? How does my involvement fit into all of this?"
Grant's expression grew more severe as the lines on his face deepened.
"The contract we signed. It's not only about saving Isla. It's about guaranteeing my position. Should I be gone, Hudson takes all. And he will ensure that nothing remains for me or everyone in my path."
Arabella felt as though she was standing on unstable ground when the ground under her shifted. The weight of what Grant had just said, the weakness, the raw emotion that had crept through his steely facade, seemed too much to grasp.
To flee the overwhelming burden of debt and despair, she had come here to help her sister. But now she was caught in something far more profound.
Grant stood before her, quiet, staring at her. Now, his eyes were raw, more exposed than she had ever known.
There was a heavy, evident tension between them. She could feel it in her bones, a pull that drew her in despite all.
Then his voice, low and somewhat plaintive, cut through the quiet. "Hudson will keep going till he kills me."
The words struck her like a gut punch. Arabella's breath hitched, and she felt the weight of the peril surrounding him for the first time since entering Grant's world. Yes, she had signed the contract, but she was nowhere near ready for this universe. This household. This struggle for existence.
A chill rushed down her back. Arabella was unsure of what to believe any longer, but one thing was clear: this was no longer about a straightforward contract or money. This was a fight for survival, for power. She had only become a pawn in it.
A loud tap on the door pierced the stillness just when the tension in the room had almost calmed. Arabella's heart raced, and she hardly had time to respond before the door burst open.
Tall and powerful, a man stood in the doorway with a visage that may fit either an angry foe or a callous business person. His piercing blue eyes, dark hair, and sharp features created a threatening presence.
Though he wore a suit that shouted strength, something about him made Arabella's stomach turn. This was Hudson Winslow, Grant's half-brother.
He didn't wait for an invitation. Stepping into the room with a sure, almost arrogant walk, he quickly fixed his icy, analytical stare on Arabella.
Hudson remarked, his voice silky and tinged with humour, "Well, well. The fresh Mrs. Winslow. How charming."
Arabella stayed still, her gaze tightening as she absorbed him. Every action revealed an undercurrent of threat; she could already sense the animosity emanating from him. The air appeared to become denser and more suffocating.
Hudson ignored Grant; his attention was only on Arabella. He moved closer, and Arabella's muscles started to tighten instinctively. He didn't mind that Grant had married her. She was a component in a far bigger game.
Hudson, his voice silky and his attitude impossible to miss, remarked, "I'll be blunt. This family doesn't take kindly to intruders, especially ones who believe they can play the game without knowing the rules."
Her thoughts raced, and Arabella stepped back, her breath catching. With Hudson's gaze locked on her as if she were something to be controlled or manipulated, she had never felt more out of place than at this moment.
With each step closer, Hudson's sneer grew more pronounced. "If I were you, I would keep an eye on my back. For in this world, people like you and us do not survive for long without knowing the actual price of power."
Arabella's heart raced, and her skin tingled. His words contained something chilly and hazardous, more than simply a warning. This was not only a familial quarrel. It was a fight for supremacy, and she was cast in the centre.
Hudson came closer, his chilly breath on her ear, and said, "You won't survive long in this world."
Hudson was not only a competitor. He was a danger, one who would do anything to obtain what he desired. What about her? She stood in his path.
The next several days seemed like a mist, a swirl of anxious meetings and muttered threats. Arabella hardly had time to consider the vastness of the universe she had stepped into. With every passing moment, the mansion felt colder; Grant's presence just seemed to increase the strain.
She could not get rid of the picture of Hudson's icy gaze and his quiet warnings. She felt breathless and stuck in a cage, like a bird unable to fly.
Arabella roamed the mansion that night, unable to sleep.
She required time to consider, to escape the oppressive walls and the staff's probing gaze. She walked by room after room, each more opulent than the last, but the study drew her interest.
Entering the room, her gaze instantly fell on a little, unremarkable wall photo that seemed out of place among the formal portraits. Younger Grant stood next to a man who made her blood run cold. The man in the picture was a prominent cartel leader, someone whose name was spoken in the city's darkest areas.
Arabella's heart raced. Everything fell into place: the picture, the link. She now realized the seriousness of what Grant had been concealing. His world, which he had sought to protect her from, was far more hazardous than she had ever thought.
The loud footfall shattered the stillness before she could collect her ideas. Arabella turned, her heart pounding. Grant stood in the doorway, his face blank, his eyes barely concealing rage.
"You shouldn't have seen that," he replied, his voice low and forceful.