Chapter Twenty-Three

Grace’s POV

I shot her a grateful look as my mother’s mouth tightened.

“Grace is excellent at her job,” Hunter said firmly.

I watched Helena’s fingers tightened around her wineglass. “Darling, I’m sure Grace can defend herself. Mummy just wants her to do well in life.”

“I don’t need defending,” I said, meeting Hunter’s eyes briefly before looking away. “I like my job.”

“And she’s very good at it,” Hunter added, ignoring Helena’s sharp glance.

The tension at the table was thick enough to cut with one of the sterling silver knives beside our plates.

“Well,” Iris said, clearly trying to change the subject, “I think it’s wonderful how you’re all supporting each other through this process. It can’t be easy.”

If she only knew. There was nothing wonderful about it. Just desperation, manipulation, and my own pathetic inability to say no to my sister.

“Yes,” Margo agreed, her smile not reaching her eyes. “Grace has always been so accommodating. Haven’t you, dear?”

There was that word again. Accommodating. Like I was a hotel room or a restaurant reservation. Something useful but ultimately forgettable.

I felt Maya stiffen beside me. “‘Accommodating’ seems like a mild word for what she’s doing,” she said. “I’d go with ‘extraordinary’ or ‘selfless,’ personally. But hey that’s me.”

I shot her another look. Maya didn’t need to defend me. Helena set her glass down a bit too hard.

“It’s what family does,” Helena said, her voice honeyed again. “We support each other. Grace knows how much this means to us.” She reached for Hunter’s hand on the table, squeezing it while looking at me. “Don’t you, Grace?”

The show Helena was giving was clear, at least to me. This is mine. He is mine. Don’t forget it.

“Of course,” I said quietly.

“Have you had any symptoms yet?” Iris asked kindly. “With Hunter, I knew very early. Terrible morning sickness from week three.”

“It’s too soon,” Helena answered before I could. “The doctor said we won’t know for certain for another week or so.”

“But you must be hopeful,” my mother pressed. “Your father’s fundraiser is coming up, and it would be wonderful to have some good news to share.”

Of course. John Wilson’s congressional campaign. Everything in our family eventually circled back to that.

Hunter’s expression darkened. “We’re not using a pregnancy announcement for political purposes, Margo.”

My mother looked affronted. “I wasn’t suggesting—”

“You absolutely were,” Maya muttered into her wineglass.

Helena smoothly cut in. “What Hunter means is that we want to be certain before we share our joy. You understand, Mother.”

My mother’s brittle smile returned. “Of course, dear. Your father will understand.”

The conversation shifted to safer topics after that, but I could feel the undercurrents. Helena’s tightly controlled demeanor. Hunter’s quiet tension. Maya’s curious glances between her brother and me.

I excused myself after dessert, needing a moment alone. The powder room off the main hall. I stared at myself in the mirror, wondering how I’d ended up here.

Possibly pregnant with my sister’s husband’s baby. Living in their house. Having inappropriate dreams about him.

What’s wrong with me? I thought, gripping the edge of the sink.

And what was going on between Hunter and Helena? The tension between them was subtle, but unmistakable. Helena was working overtime with her perfect wife routine, but Hunter wasn’t buying it the way he used to. Something had changed.

The door opened behind me, and Helena slipped in, immediately checking to make sure we were alone.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, keeping her voice low.

“Using the bathroom?” I replied, confused.

“Don’t play dumb. You and Hunter. Him defending you. What’s going on?”

My heart pounded. “Nothing is going on. He’s just being nice.”

“Hunter isn’t ‘nice’ to anyone without reason,” Helena said, stepping closer. “I want to know what is going on between you both.”

“Maybe he’s just grateful about the surrogacy,” I suggested, trying to sound calm.

Helena studied me, her blue eyes so like mine, yet so different, narrowing slightly.

“Listen to me very carefully,” she said, her voice soft but dangerous. “I’ve worked very hard to create this life. Hunter is mine. This arrangement doesn’t change that. Don’t forget your place. You are not this baby’s mother. Stop trying to play happy families with my husband.”

The threat was clear. I’d heard it before, in different ways, throughout our lives. Helena staking her claim, marking her territory. And me, always backing down.

I almost told her that maybe she needed to piss on Hunter if the need to mark her territory was so strong. “I know exactly what my place is,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “I’m just the incubator, right?”

Something flashed across Helena’s face, unreadable, but it was gone so quickly I might have imagined it.

“We should get back,” she said instead of responding. “Mother will be looking for us.”

She left as abruptly as she’d arrived, leaving me alone with the echo of her words.

I knew my place. I’d always known my place.

Second best. The helpful one. The afterthought.

But for a moment tonight, when Hunter had defended me against my mother, I’d felt something different. Something dangerous.

I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away thoughts I shouldn’t be having. This wasn’t my family. There might not even be a baby.

Helena was right, though. This wasn’t my life. I just had to keep remembering that.

When I returned to the dining room, the photographer had finished setting up for “just a few family photos.” Helena had gotten her way, as usual. She stood next to Hunter, her arm looped through his.

The perfect couple. After that, my mother directed everyone into position like a general arranging troops.

“Grace, next to Helena,” she commanded. “Maya on the other side of Hunter.”

I moved into position, pasting on a smile that didn’t reach my eyes.

“Perfect,” the photographer said. “Now, one more with just the sisters.”

Helena’s arm slid around my waist, her nails digging slightly into my side where no one could see. Her smile never faltered.

“Smile, Gracie,” she whispered through her teeth. “We’re family, after all.”

I smiled, feeling the weight of her warning and the weight of Hunter’s gaze from across the room.

Family. What a complicated word that had become.

Helena’s POV

Smile, Gracie.

The camera clicked again. My arm stayed looped around her waist, nails pressed in just enough to remind her who she was. What she was. She didn’t belong here.

Not in my house. Not at my table. Not standing next to my husband like she was part of this family in any real way. She was just a means to an end. I was using her like I have always used her and she was just too dumb to see it.

She was the helper. The spare. The one we kept around when something needed doing. Like always.

And now? Now she had Hunter defending her? Like she was something soft and precious?

No. No fucking way. I don’t care if she is carrying my little parasite… oops, sorry baby, needed to get used to saying baby in case I slip up. Grace needed to know her place.

I built this life. I earned it. I made it all look perfect, and she was not going to slither in with her quiet eyes and her “I’m just trying to help” bullshit and take any of it from me. Hunter wasn’t going to defend any other woman. Only me.

But I could fix it. I always did.

Hunter just needed a little nudge. A reminder of what we had. A slip of lace. Few passionate nights in bed. I might even let him dominate me, which I hate. I’m the one in control.

Maybe a surprise weekend. There were ways.

And Grace?

Little stupid, Gracie. She’ll learn. Once this baby was here, she make sure Grace was never a problem ever again.