The Cole estate was quiet in the late afternoon, a hushed stillness falling over the garden like a silk shawl. Grace hadn't meant to come here. Her car had simply turned toward the home she hadn't lived in for years, as if her heart knew where to go even when her mind didn't.
The old oak trees lining the drive cast long shadows. She stepped out, hugging her coat around her like armor, and climbed the steps two at a time.
She half-expected the staff to ask questions, to alert her father. But it was her mother who opened the door.
"Grace " Savannah Cole said softly, brows lifting in surprise. She wore one of her signature cream cashmere sweaters, a silk scarf tied effortlessly at her neck.
"I didn't know where else to go," Grace said, her voice more fragile than she meant it to be.
Without a word, her mother stepped aside and wrapped her in a firm, familiar hug. Grace let herself sink into it, the scent of jasmine and Chanel reminding her of childhood, of gentler times before politics, before boardrooms, before broken trust.
"I'll make tea," Savannah said, brushing a strand of hair behind Grace's ear. "You need something warm"
They moved to the sunroom, the winter light slanting across glass and old books. Grace sat curled on the antique chaise, her hands wrapped around a steaming teacup. For a long time, neither of them spoke.
Then Savannah said, "It's about him, isn't it?"
Grace blinked. "You knew?"
"I read the article" her mother replied gently. "And I know that look in your eyes. It's the same one I had the first time your father disappointed me."
Grace let out a breath. "It's not just about the article. His ex went to the press. Called me a gold-digger. And Liam didn't warn me. Didn't protect me."
"Ah." Margaret sat back, her fingers tapping the porcelain cup. "And what did he say for himself?"
"That he didn't see it coming. That he's 'handling it.'" Grace scoffed, then went quiet. "And maybe he is. But it still hurt"
Her mother nodded "It's easy to love someone when the world is quiet. Harder when it's loud. Messy. Public. Especially when your name's on every headline."
Grace looked down, fingers tightening around her cup. "Maybe I wasn't built for messy."
Savannah leaned in. "Oh, sweetheart. You were born in chaos. Raised in pressure. Don't mistake your discomfort for weakness. You're stronger than you think."
Grace blinked, tears stinging her eyes. "What if I'm not strong enough to be with someone like him?"
"You don't need to be strong for him" Margaret said softly. "You need to be strong for you .Loving a powerful man doesn't mean losing yourself. It means choosing yourself every day and letting him rise to that standard."
There was silence.
Then Grace whispered "It's just… I was finally getting everything I wanted. And now I feel like it's slipping away."
Her mother's gaze softened. "Then ask yourself, do you want to fight for him or for the you that was before him?"
Grace didn't answer.
Because she didn't know yet.
But for the first time since the headlines broke, she wasn't angry. She wasn't drowning. She was… still.
Still enough to start listening to her heart again.
Savannah reached over, pressing a kiss to her daughter's temple. "Whatever you decide, make sure it's not out of fear. Fear keeps you small. Love, real love, should make you braver."
And Elena, quietly, nodded.