Frozen at the entrance, Arabella's heart raced. Time seemed to have halted. None of the street noise, the subtle hum of the air conditioner, or the world around her were present. Grant was all that remained.
Staring at the guy who had once been everything to her, her breath stuck in her throat.
He is no more. He should be dead. Like a chant she couldn't escape, the idea ran through her head again.
Grant appeared in front of her, looking like he had just come out of the past.
He seemed the same, tall, his steel-blue eyes still retaining the same intensity and keen features that had before quickened her heart.
The man she had adored. The man she had believed was lost for all time.
"Grant," she said softly, almost under her breath.
At first, he did not move. Usually so cautious, his eyes suddenly showed a weakness. Clearly, at a loss for the correct words, he opened his mouth as though to speak but then shut it. Arabella experienced a sudden flood of emotions. Fury. Disarray. A profound, painful feeling of loss.
The sight of him alive, standing there in front of her after all this time, had left her head still reeling from the shock. Still, there was more. Something she couldn't precisely identify.
Grant continued, his voice low and emotional, "I know you're angry. You indeed have a lot of questions. I'm sorry, and I never meant to offend you. I never wished for any of this to occur."
Arabella stepped back, breathing quickly. The anger within her began to boil over, but she couldn't seem to assemble the words. She instead shook her head as though attempting to remove the fog covering her brain.
Her voice breaking, she finally yelled, "You lied to me! Grant, you deceived me! You let me believe you were dead! I have suffered with the agony of losing you for three years; suddenly, you appear as if it is nothing. As if I should forgive you?"
Grant winced, his eyes narrowing. "Arabella, I,"
"Don't you dare!" she interrupted him, her chest quivering with genuine anguish.
"Grant, you vanished. You abandoned me without an explanation. No solutions. I believed you were dead; now you are simply standing here informing me it was all to save me. What should I be protected from? From your falsehoods?"
Grant appeared as though her comments had hit him like a physical blow. His face twisted in agony as he shut his eyes momentarily, as though collecting his thoughts. Opening his eyes once more revealed something strange in them.
His former calm, calculated demeanor was gone. What remained was a man, pleading, desperate, vulnerable.
"Arabella, I didn't want to leave you," he continued, his voice hoarse with grief. "I never wanted you to suffer that agony. I had to go, though. You don't get it. A cartel was chasing me, and I couldn't take the chance to involve them in your life, into Isla's life. They were perilous, Arabella. They would have murdered you without hesitation."
Arabella's breath caught, but her rage remained. It simply got more prominent.
"You think I would have cared about that?" she said angrily, stiffening her hands.
"You believe I couldn't manage it, that I couldn't defend myself or Isla? You abandoned us, Grant! You left me alone and pregnant without an explanation! Now you're here begging for pardon?"
Though it didn't stop her from speaking the required words, she could feel her heart tearing once more. "You left us. You failed to defend me. You killed me. And you wrecked the future I imagined we were constructing jointly."
Though in agony, Grant stood firm. His eyes never left hers as he moved slowly and carefully closer.
He said gently, "I know I don't merit your pardon. I always loved you, though. I always wanted to return. Every day, every single second I was away, I considered you. But I couldn't run the danger of you being caught in the center of this. I could not take the chance of you being injured."
Listening to him, Arabella felt her heart race in her chest as the words sliced through her like a dagger. She wished to despise him. She hated him. But some small, stupid part of her wanted to trust him.
She wished to believe there had been some honorable cause for his absence and that he hadn't meant to harm her. The reality, however, was that there was no justification. The suffering he had caused her had no reason.
Arabella said softly, her voice heavy with feeling. "Forgiving you is not something I know. You have robbed me of everything. Your actions have robbed me of my trust and my peace, and now my heart seems shattered."
Grant reached out then, his hand floating in the air between them, wondering whether to touch her or not. He appeared to hesitate as if his actions would drive her more away.
"Arabella, I'm requesting a second opportunity, he added, his voice trembling with anguish. Not only for me. For us all. Liam's benefit. I wish to father him. I hope to correct this. I want us to have the future we were meant to have."
Arabella shut her eyes, her heart racing. Words eluded her. She was unsure whether she could pardon him.
Though the rage still burned within her, there was also something more: a little glimmer of hope. The chance of a life she had believed was lost for all time. One family. It's a coming time.
But could she believe in him once more? After all, could she allow herself to have faith in him?
Grant was waiting for her response, his face reflecting hope, need, and suffering that matched her own. Their stillness was excruciating.
Arabella eventually murmured, her voice cracking. "I can't only forget. I can't just act as though nothing occurred."
Grant's face fell. He moved back, his shoulders drooping under the burden of her remarks. Still, he persisted. One last look at her, his eyes brimming with quiet determination.
"Arabella, I won't give up on you," he murmured gently. "Not at this time. Not ever."
Though tears stung her eyes, Arabella refused to let them fall. Not at this time. She was unprepared.
Arabella was called the following day to see Sawyer Whitaker, Grant's attorney.
Arabella sat opposite him in a sleek, contemporary office building with glass walls revealing the city below. Sawyer's desk papers were being shifted, and Arabella could sense the conversation's weight pressing down on her.
"Ms Kingsley". Sawyer started, his voice calm and detached, "You are in a somewhat dangerous situation."
Arabella maintained her cool even as her pulse raced. "What do you mean?"
Sawyer's gaze was keen as he peered up at her. "The legacy. The Winslow p
roperty. The firm. Ultimately, it all boils down to one thing." His eyes stayed fixed. "You, Ms. Kingsley, are the key."