That evening, Grant, now discharged from the hospital, arranged to meet Nathan face-to-face. In a dimly lit study inside the vast Carter estate, Nathan lounged in a leather armchair, casually swirling a glass of whiskey as Grant and Anna entered.
“Well, well,” Nathan smirked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “The dead man walks.” Grant’s eyes burned with a cold fury. “Why did you do it, Nathan?”
Nathan took a slow, deliberate sip of his drink. “You already know why.” Anna stepped forward, unable to stay silent. “You tried to kill your own brother.”
“For what? For money? For power?” Nathan’s smirk finally faded, replaced by a snarl. “For everything that should have been mine,” he spat.
“You were always the golden child. The chosen heir. The one who got everything handed to him on a silver platter. Well, guess what, Grant? I was tired of waiting for my turn.”
Grant’s hands curled back into fists. “So you hired someone to sabotage my car.” Nathan laughed, a cold, harsh sound. “I really didn’t think you’d survive. But hey, miracles happen, right?”
Anna felt a hot rage boiling up inside her. But before she could say another word, the study door burst open, and two uniformed police officers stepped inside.
Nathan’s face went completely pale. “Nathan Carter,” one of the officers announced, his voice booming in the quiet room, “you’re under arrest for attempted murder.” Nathan whipped his head around to look at Grant, his expression twisting into pure panic.
“You… you set me up!” Grant just tilted his head. “No, brother. You set yourself up.”
Nathan was dragged away in handcuffs, still screaming empty threats. And as the door slammed shut behind him, a heavy, profound silence filled the room. Grant finally let out a long, slow breath, his shoulders visibly relaxing for the first time since he’d woken up.
It was finally over. Justice had been served. And he was, at last, truly free.
The Carter estate had always been a grand, imposing, and cold place—a fortress of wealth built on generations of power and influence. But tonight, as Anna stepped inside the dimly lit formal dining hall, it felt completely different. It felt warmer, more intimate.
Soft candlelight flickered across a single, elegantly set table near the large glass windows that overlooked the glittering city skyline. The scent of fresh roses filled the air, and a bottle of wine sat chilling in a silver bucket beside two perfectly placed plates.
Anna’s breath caught. “Grant, what is all this?” she asked, turning to face him. He stood just behind her, his hands tucked casually into his pockets, his blue eyes soft yet intense. “Dinner,” he said simply. “Just you and me.”
Anna felt her chest tighten. For the past few weeks, their lives had been a complete whirlwind—from his intensive recovery, to unraveling the truth about his “accident,” to the confrontation and seeing his brother arrested. But now, with that storm finally behind them, there was only this… this quiet moment. And somehow, that felt even more nerve-wracking.
As they sat down at the table, Anna couldn’t ignore the way Grant was watching her. It was like he was trying to memorize every detail of her face, like she was something incredibly fragile, yet infinitely precious.
“You’re quiet tonight,” she said, giving him a small, teasing smile. “That’s not like the new you.” He exhaled, swirling the wine in his glass. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh, that’s even more dangerous,” she joked. He didn’t laugh. Instead, he leaned forward, his gaze suddenly burning into hers. “Anna, do you have any idea how many people walked away from me while I was in that coma?”
Her smile faded. She knew. She had seen it firsthand—the way his family had begun to treat him like a burden, the way his so-called friends had just moved on with their lives. The only reason he had survived that darkness was because one person had stayed. Because she had stayed…
