Grant
The lobby doors opened quietly.
Grant stepped outside alone.
Tall.
Perfectly tailored navy blazer.
Silver threaded lightly through dark hair at the temples in exactly the way magazines described as distinguished instead of aging.
His wedding ring still rested comfortably against his finger.
Somehow that detail disgusted Emma most.
He noticed her immediately.
Years of corporate negotiations trained Grant Whitmore’s face beautifully. Shock never appeared fully. Panic rarely surfaced openly.
But Emma knew him too well.
She saw the tiny hesitation in his eyes before the smile arrived.
“Emma?”
She looked up calmly.
“Hello, Grant.”
He approached carefully like someone handling unstable explosives.
“What are you doing here?”
Emma folded the legal packet slowly across her lap.
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
Grant’s smile widened slightly.
“Private client screening. I thought you were resting tonight.”
“I was.”
His attention shifted briefly toward the folder beside her.
Then her phone.
Then back toward her expression.
“Who were you talking to?”
“Rachel Monroe.”
That answer hit him harder than she expected.
Not visibly enough for strangers.
But enough for Emma.
The slight jaw tension.
The shallower breathing.
The left hand disappearing into his pocket automatically whenever emotional control slipped.
“Why exactly are you calling attorneys at ten o’clock during pregnancy?”
Emma stood slowly.
“Because my husband brought another woman to my theater while trying to manipulate inheritance documents.”
Silence swallowed the lobby.
Behind the concessions counter, Caleb froze completely holding an ice scoop.
Grant lowered his voice sharply.
“Do not make a scene.”
Emma almost admired the audacity.
“You’re having an affair inside my building, Grant.”
“You’re emotional.”
“No. I’m observant.”
Grant stepped closer.
Expensive cologne reached her before apologies did.
“Whatever you think you saw tonight—”
Emma interrupted immediately.
“I recorded everything.”
The mask slipped briefly.
Not guilt.
Never guilt.
Anger.
Grant Whitmore hated losing control more than losing affection.
