Chapter 6 - The Unraveling
Colin’s face turned completely red, then white.
Even in the corporate world of New York, everyone knew the name Marchetti. The family’s influence over the Hudson Valley real estate, logistics, and private banking sectors was absolute.
“Marchetti?” Victoria gasped softly, grabbing Colin’s arm. “Colin... that’s Vincent Marchetti. The developer behind the riverfront commerce district.”
Colin swallowed hard, trying desperately to regain his composure. “Mr. Marchetti... I’m Colin Avery, CEO of Avery Fine Foods. We’re expanding our luxury market into Albany and—”
“I know who you are,” Vincent interrupted coldly, his voice devoid of any interest. “You are the man who evaluates human worth by the cut of a dress.”
Colin flinched violently, looking at Grace in total shock. “Grace... what did you tell him?”
“She didn't have to tell me anything,” Vincent said, stepping closer to Colin until he towered over him completely. “Her talent built your signature lines. Her loyalty sustained your business. And you threw her away three days before her wedding because you lacked the vision to see a diamond standing in front of you.”
Colin’s mouth opened and closed, no sound coming out.
Vincent turned to Grace, his expression softening instantly into something gentle, warm, and intensely protective.
“Let’s go home, Grace,” Vincent offered softly, opening the rear door of the SUV for her.
Grace looked at Colin one last time. The man who had once made her feel small, visual inconvenient, and unworthy now looked tiny, pathetic, and utterly insignificant beneath the shadow of Pinecrest Manor’s master.
“Goodbye, Colin,” Grace said quietly, stepping into the warm leather interior of the vehicle.
Vincent shut the door, turned to Colin, and leaned down slightly.
“By the way, Avery,” Vincent whispered, his tone dropping into a lethal purr. “Your commercial permit application for the Albany location was sitting on my desk this morning. Consider it denied.”
Vincent stepped into the car, and the armored SUV pulled away smoothly into the snowy afternoon, leaving Colin and Victoria standing speechless on the curb.
Inside the car, the silence was warm and heavy.
Grace sat in the plush leather seat, her hands folded in her lap, watching the snowy pine trees pass by the window.
“Thank you,” she murmured softly.
Vincent looked at her from the seat beside her. “You don't need to thank me, Grace. I meant every word I said.”
He reached out, his large, warm hand covering hers on the leather seat.
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“A man who doesn't see your value doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as you,” Vincent whispered, his amber eyes searching hers. “You belong at Pinecrest, Grace. Not just in the kitchen. With us.”
Grace felt tears sting the corners of her eyes, but for the first time in years, they were not tears of pain—they were tears of belonging.
