Mr. Grey-Book I

12

l dashed down the hallway, determined to confront Mrs. Grey. Her manipulations had gone on long enough.

"Emilia?" Mary's concerned voice called out behind me. "Stop! You don't know what you're doing!" But I was beyond reason, my feet carrying me swiftly towards Mrs. Grey's office.

I skidded to a halt as I spotted the door with "Mrs. Grey" engraved in bold letters. Without hesitation, I burst into the room. Mary appeared in front of me, trying to intervene.

"Please, stay out of this," I warned, my voice trembling with emotion.

Mrs. Grey's cool voice cut through the tension. "It's alright, Mary. You may go."

As Mary left, I approached Mrs. Grey's desk, where she sat calmly examining a document.

"What do you want, Miss Clark?" she asked, her tone maddeningly nonchalant.

"Damien is blind!" I blurted out, searching her face for any reaction. There was none.

"Yes, and?" she replied, her voice devoid of emotion.

"Why wasn't it in the contract? Don't you think that's something I should have known?" I demanded.

Mrs. Grey finally looked up, her eyes cold. "Miss Clark, I'm paying you to carry my grandchild and not to waste your time probing on my son's visual acuity."

"Do you have any limits?" I asked, disgust coloring my voice. "I want to go home. I've had enough of this family and your manipulation."

"In due time, Miss Clark," she replied dismissively. "Now leave my office. I have more pressing matters to attend to."

I stood there, stunned by her callousness. She groaned in irritation. "Miss Clark, I don't care if you're carrying my future heir. I could have you removed from this office this instant."

Fighting back tears, I stormed out. Mary's words echoed in my head – I had to be strong. Crying wouldn't solve anything.

To distract myself, I wandered the halls, eventually discovering a back door that led to a beautiful garden. The tranquil setting, complete with rose bushes and a central fountain, was a stark contrast to the cold interior of the house.

As I sat by the fountain, trailing my fingers through the cool water, a voice startled me.

"I was worried she'd eaten you alive," a man chuckled, causing me to jump.

I looked up to see an unfamiliar face. "Who are you?" I asked warily.

"Sorry, I'm Lucas," he said with a warm smile. "Friend of the Grey's. I saw you tearing down the hallway earlier – quite the spectacle. What's your name?

I hesitated before responding. "Emilia."

Lucas's smile widened. "Emilia," he repeated. "Well, I was heading up to see Damien when I spotted you out here. It's been ages since anyone's used this garden."

Curiosity got the better of me. "How long have you and Damien been friends?"

A shadow passed over Lucas's face, and I quickly backpedaled. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry-"

"Since 6th grade," he interrupted, his smile returning. "Some of our best memories were made right here in this garden."

I wanted to ask about Damien's accident but held my tongue. It wasn't my place.

"You should come up with me, it's quite boring out here by yourself." Lucas suggested suddenly.

I stared at him, certain I'd misheard. "I don't think Damien would appreciate that," I said, remembering our last encounter. He wasn't exactly pleased about me or what I represented at the moment.

Lucas laughed. "Come on, I'm sure he'd be thrilled. We rarely get guests around here, let alone charming young ladies, so I insist."

Before I could object further, Lucas gently took my arm. "Trust me," he said with a conspiratorial wink. "This'll be good for him. And who knows? Maybe it'll be good for you too."

As Lucas led me back into the house, a mix of trepidation and curiosity washed over me. What would happen when Damien and I came face to face again? And more importantly, was I ready to confront the complex reality of the man whose child I was carrying?

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