James's POV
James had decided that morning to keep his distance.
It was a simple plan. Stay in his room. Work on business emails. Avoid eye contact. Don't ask questions. Don't remember. Don't feel. Just survive the hours until he could figure out how to escape this trap she'd set.
He was managing perfectly fine until he heard her voice again.
"No, that deadline is flexible. Move it to next week," Grace said as she came down the stairs. She was on her headset, her voice carrying through the kitchen like she was used to people listening when she gave orders. Because apparently she was used to that now. She had people working for her. People who took instructions from her.
James watched from the hallway doorway without meaning to.
She moved around the kitchen with this quiet purpose that took something out of his chest. She pulled out pans with the kind of confidence that came from knowing exactly what you wanted and how to get it. She chopped vegetables with quick, precise movements. She was making breakfast like it was the most important project in the world, giving it complete attention.
"I know you had September marked," she continued into the headset, not looking up from her work. "But I need you to push the timeline. We're expecting the structural engineer's final designs, and I want to review them before we move forward. Can you make that happen?"
Someone on the other end of that call was saying yes to her. Someone was doing what she asked because she'd earned the authority to ask it.
James realized something that made his entire body feel wrong.
He had no idea what she'd been doing for the past five years.
He'd never asked. He'd been so consumed with building his empire bigger and bigger that he hadn't thought to wonder what she was building. He'd signed the divorce papers without a conversation. Had agreed to no contact and separate lives. Had moved forward like she was something he could just leave behind and never think about again.
And the entire time she'd been here. Building something. Creating something. Becoming someone.
She hung up the call and turned to look directly at him across the kitchen.
Their eyes met and James felt something shift inside his chest. Something dangerous. Something he'd been trying to kill for five years.
"Breakfast is in five minutes if you want it," she said. Her voice was neutral. Polite. Like they were strangers sharing an apartment. Like they hadn't spent five years married. Like his touch hadn't once meant something to her.
James opened his mouth to say something. He wanted to ask her about her projects. About her company. About how she'd built all of this without his money or his connections or his name attached to it. He wanted to understand how she'd become this person who didn't need him at all.
But he stopped himself.
There were rules now. Rules they hadn't officially made but both understood anyway.
Stay separate. Don't get close. Don't ask questions that might make you remember what you lost.
"Sounds good," he said instead. The words felt like a lie. "What are you making?"
"Breakfast," she answered simply, turning back to her cooking.
It wasn't cold. It was just honest. She was making breakfast because they both needed to eat. Not because it meant anything. Not because they were anything to each other besides two people trapped in the same house.
James sat at the counter and watched her move.
She cooked like someone who'd learned to be comfortable with solitude. Like she'd spent years figuring out what she wanted and how to get it without asking anyone's permission. She moved with no hesitation. No second-guessing. Just purpose.
The eggs came together perfectly. The vegetables were cooked at exactly the right moment. She plated everything with the kind of care that said she paid attention to details. She'd always been like this. Careful. Precise. Thoughtful about how things were done. But somewhere along the way, she'd started using those qualities for herself instead of for him.
She set the plate down in front of him without meeting his eyes.
"Thank you," James said.
"You're welcome," she replied, her voice so polite it felt like a wall between them.
He ate while she started cooking her own breakfast. She moved around the kitchen like it belonged to her completely, because it did now. She'd bought it. She'd fought for it. She'd won it.
James sat there and understood finally what he'd lost.
He hadn't just lost a wife. He hadn't just lost a marriage. He'd lost the chance to watch her become this. To support her becoming this. To be the person she turned to when she succeeded. He'd spent five years building an empire and she'd spent five years becoming indispensable to herself.
She was happy now.
Not with him. Not because of him. But she was happy. She was confident. She was complete.
And he was sitting across from her realizing that he'd spent half a decade becoming a stranger to the woman who used to know him better than he knew himself.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. A message from Samuel.
James ignored it.
He just watched Grace eat breakfast like she was the only person in the room. Like he wasn't even there. Like she'd moved on so completely that his presence was barely worth acknowledging.
And the worst part was that he couldn't blame her.
Because she'd been right all along.
She'd never needed him at all.
She just needed to remember that.