This time, Peter was completely caught off guard. He had brought up the topic of the marriage arrangement several times before, but this was the first time she had agreed so quickly.

"Grace, are you sure you won’t regret this?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Well, I’m actually here on business for a few days, but I’ll be heading back to Eldara City in a week. You can come with me then," she replied, her voice soft.

"By the way, when are you free? We should go over the engagement details."

Peter spoke quickly, as if he feared she might change her mind. After all, he had mentioned several times how perfect the marriage candidate his family had chosen for her was.

Grace’s mind was still in a fog. She muttered a quick "good" and hung up the phone.

Exhausted, she collapsed onto the bed and drifted into a deep, heavy sleep.

When Robert returned, it was already the next day.

He entered quietly and gently helped her take off her shoes, his voice full of tenderness and concern—nothing like the coldness from the night before at the club.

"You’re this tired? Not even taking off your shoes? Why didn’t you come to the gathering last night?"

Grace sat up, subtly pulling her foot back. "I wasn’t feeling well, so I didn’t go."

When his gaze fell on the bruise on her face, Robert’s expression shifted immediately.

"Your face..."

His worry was clear, and even his usually well-groomed brows furrowed in genuine concern.

He hurried to lift her up. "You have a blood clotting disorder. It’ll take longer to heal. Come on, let me take you to the hospital."

Despite Grace’s resistance and her insistence that her wounds had already been treated, he wouldn’t hear it.

"No, we need to see an overseas specialist. Don’t worry, I won’t let any scars stay on your face."

He didn’t seem to notice her swollen eyes, nor the hoarseness in her voice. He didn’t see the broken heart she was trying so hard to hide.

He only cared about her face. As expected.

On the way to the hospital, Grace dozed off in the passenger seat, but then suddenly lurched forward.

She frowned slightly, looking at Robert, who had just slammed on the brakes.

He was shaking as he held the phone, his voice trembling with excitement, but the joy in his eyes couldn’t be hidden.

"You’re back? When did you get here? That’s great—I’ll come right away."

He turned to Grace, forcing a smile. "Sorry, Grace. Something urgent came up. I’ve already arranged for the expert, so go to the hospital first, and I’ll come pick you up later."

Grace had clearly seen the name on the phone screen: Evelyn.

The dust kicked up by the car seemed to sting her eyes, but why did it also make her nose feel so sore?

She wiped her eyes dry, turned away, and hailed a taxi.

At the hotel, Peter noticed the dark bruise under Grace’s eyes and the injury on her cheek, his face hardening with concern.

"Tell me, who did this to you?"

When no one was around, Grace could hold back her tears, but in front of her family’s worried gaze, all her frustrations came flooding out.

She leaned gently into Peter’s embrace, but still hesitated, not wanting to worry him too much.

"I just accidentally bumped into something. I’m fine… just missing home."

Peter didn’t press her further, only sighing, his tone one of helpless affection.

"At your age, still acting like a little girl. You’ll be home in a few days. Take care of the business here, and get ready to be a bride."

"Trust me, the guy I’ve picked for you is perfect. He’s definitely someone who deserves my little sister."

"Okay."

Just as Grace was about to head home to pack her things, her phone rang. It was Robert. His voice was filled with urgency and worry:

"Where are you? Why aren't you at the hospital? Come quickly."

Hadn’t he gone to be with Evelyn?

Despite the numbness in her heart from the pain, a small flicker of warmth stirred within her. Grace couldn’t help but laugh at herself, silently. The truth was right in front of her, yet a part of her still clung to a tiny bit of hope.

When she arrived at the nurse’s station, she found Robert standing there, his face full of anxiety, waiting for her.

He rushed over to her, grabbing her arm. "Grace, you're RH-negative, right? Hurry, come with me. A friend of mine was in a car accident, and your blood type is the same as hers. Nurse, please, hurry!"

He was about to push her arm into the nurse's hands, but Grace jerked her arm back with force.

"I don't want to," she said coldly.

Robert’s face twisted with frustration. "Grace, what happened to you? I thought you were a kind person. It's just a little blood. It’s not like you’re going to die from it."

He turned sharply and, with a cold glare, pushed her aside. "Don’t you realize you’re abandoning someone who needs help?"

Grace, barely able to keep herself steady, was shoved against the wall. Before she could feel the pain, she heard the nurse’s surprised voice.

"You’re bleeding from your face."

The wound that hadn’t fully healed had opened up again. The young nurse immediately began tending to her, speaking as she worked.

"Good thing you’re in the hospital. This could have gotten worse if it wasn’t taken care of right away. You have a clotting disorder, so you can’t donate blood."

"But don’t blame your friend. He was just too anxious. You and his girlfriend have the same rare blood type."

The nurse paused, then continued, "The attending physician said his girlfriend’s injuries aren’t serious—just some minor cuts. She doesn’t need a transfusion. With rest, she’ll recover just fine. But he wouldn’t believe it."

The nurse looked at Grace with a touch of envy. "I kind of envy her. If I could find a guy like that, I’d be so lucky. You should’ve seen him when he brought her in. His eyes were all red from worrying about her."

So, he was still thinking about Evelyn.

Grace said nothing in response. After the nurse finished dressing her wound, she left for home, knowing she’d never be waiting for Robert again.

Sure enough, Robert didn’t return until after midnight.

In the darkness, Robert felt an unfamiliar sense of confusion. No matter how late he came home before, Grace had always kept the lights on, waiting for him. Then she would wrap her arms around his neck and tease him.

But tonight... nothing.

Guilt, mixed with an uneasy feeling, settled deep inside him.

He climbed into bed and gently held Grace’s slender form from behind, his voice muffled as he spoke, "I’m sorry."

"Grace... uh, my friend’s injuries were worse than I thought. I was so worried I forgot about your clotting disorder. You can’t donate blood. Please, don’t be mad. Can you forgive me? Please?"

He gently traced his fingers along her back in a familiar, comforting gesture—a gesture that had once meant quiet understanding between them.

But now, as he breathed heavily behind her, all Grace felt was bitter irony. She reached down and grabbed his hand as it moved lower.

For four years, she had given herself to him, believing it was love. But now, she realized that to him, she had always been nothing more than a useful tool.

Now that his "true love" had returned, wasn’t it time for her—the stand-in—to step aside?

With a cold indifference, she dismissed him. "I’m not feeling well."