Page 93 of Shattered By Grace

“We’re going to eat, and then I need you to explain what happened last night.”

Without another word, he turned back to the stove, casually plating their food like he hadn’t just given her whiplash.

Chapter Forty-Two

Victoria’s gaze lingered on the food, but her stomach twisted into knots. Her throat felt like a rock was lodged inside, making it hard to breathe.

Her fork lay still in her hand, her grip too tight.

She tried to breathe, but didn’t settle the chaos inside her.

I have to tell him. But where do I even begin?

She forced a few bites down, but they felt more automatic than anything.

This is insane. I didn’t think things would go like this.

She avoided his gaze, staring at the window and noticed the storm clouds rolling in, hoping to delay the inevitable.

The scrape of his chair against the floor made her flinch. Tristan pushed his empty plate aside, his movements smooth, unhurried. When he turned to her, his gaze locked onto hers, dark, yet eerily calm.

“Why did my father’s men come after you last night?” His voice was quiet, almost casual, but there was no mistaking the weight behind it.

No hesitation. No warmth. Just the expectation of truth.

Okay. Here we go.

Victoria swallowed hard. Her throat felt raw like she’d swallowed glass.

“I—I…” She brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, trying to buy herself a moment, but his gaze was steady, unwavering. There was no room for hesitation. No escape.

Focus.

“He wanted to send a message,” she forced out, her voice barely above a whisper. “To remind me that no matter where I go, he can reach me.” A shiver ran down her spine. “It’s not the first time.”

Tristan’s expression didn’t shift. He was too still. Too quiet. Only the slight tilt of his head gave away his thoughts.

“Why?” His voice was softer this time, but no less insistent.

Victoria clenched her hands into fists, nausea curling in her stomach. The memory of her father’s cold, determined expression crashed over her like a wave, nearly knocking the air from her lungs. But she didn’t look away from Tristan.

“I don't know where to start."

Tristan exhaled slowly, the only sign of impatience. “Then start anywhere, Grace.”

Victoria inhaled deeply, bracing herself. “To start, my name isn't Grace Scarlett. It’s Victoria Grace.”

The name landed between them like a gunshot. Tristan didn’t move, didn’t blink, but something shifted in his expression. A flicker of something she couldn’t place.

“Explain it to me.” His voice was level, unnervingly steady. “My father doesn’t make careless moves. So why you?” He tilted his head slightly, his eyes searching hers with quiet precision. “What makes you dangerous to him?”

“Do you know who Victor Grace is?”

Tristan’s expression remained blank. "No." His voice was quiet, almost contemplative. "Tyson is more involved in the business. I’ve kept my distance, until I don’t have a choice."

Victoria frowned. “Meaning?”

Tristan’s gaze snapped back to hers, sharp as a blade. “We are not changing the subject. Answer the question.”

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