My Cheating Mate (Emma and Jeremy) novel Chapter 226

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Chapter 226

My Cheating Mate

Grace pov

I sat in my studio waiting for Connor to return, staring at the integration painting without actually seeing it.

All I could see was the image Daddy had described. The dead wolf at the border. Silver torture. Execution–style. A body left as a message because extremists wanted my family broken.

A wolf was dead. An actual living being–someone with thoughts and feelings and maybe family who’d miss them–was dead because the Preservation Front wanted to make a point.

And Courtney had helped them. Had given them my schedule, my routines, information they could use to plan attacks. All because she couldn’t accept losing Connor.

The guilt was overwhelming.

Not guilt for existing–Uncle Cas had been very clear about that. “Grace, you didn’t kill anyone. The Preservation Front made that choice. This is not your fault.”

But it felt like my fault. Felt like if I was just–different. Normal. Not part of a family that chose integration. Not mated to Connor. Not existing as a symbol of everything traditionalists hated–maybe that wolf would still be alive.

“Grace?” Mama’s voice from the doorway. “Sweetheart, you’ve been up here for hours. Do you want dinner?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat-”

“Mama, a wolf is dead because of me.” I turned to face her. “Because Courtney gave extremists information about my routines.

Because I’m–because our family is—”

“Stop.” She came into the studio, sitting beside me. “Grace, that wolf is dead because extremists chose violence. Not because you exist. Not because our family chose integration. Because terrorists decided murder was an acceptable way to oppose change.

“But if I wasn’t-

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“If you weren’t what? If you weren’t my daughter? If you didn’t grow up with Uncle Cas? If you rejected your mate to make traditionalists comfortable?” Her voice was firm. “Grace, you can’t make yourself smaller to appease people who hate you for existing. That’s not how this works.”

“Then how does it work? Because right now it feels like people die when I’m just–me.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Grace, when your father betrayed our mate bond–when I found out about Vanessa—I spent months thinking if I was just different, better, more interesting, he wouldn’t have cheated. That his choices were somehow my fault.”

“That’s not the same-

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“It’s exactly the same. Blaming yourself for other people’s terrible choices. Taking responsibility for things you didn’t do and couldn’t control.” She touched my face gently. “Grace, that dead wolf

think murder is justified. Not on you.”

“But Courtney gave them my information

that’s on the Preservation Front. On extremists who

“And that’s on Courtney. On her choice to help terrorists instead of accepting that Connor chose his tated mate.” Maina paused. “Grace, you can’t control what Courtney does. What extremists do you can only control how you respond. And right now, you’re responding by taking responsibility for things that aren’t yours to carry.”

Chapter

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I knew she was right. Intellectually knew it. But the guilt didn’t care about logic.

“I want to punish her,” Tadmitted quietly. “Courtney. I want her to hurt the way I’m hurting. Want her to feel guilty for that dead wolf. Want-“I stopped. “Want revenge, I guess. Which makes me just as bad as-”

“It makes you human. Well, wolf. But you know what I mean.” Mama smiled slightly. “Grace, wanting Courtney to face consequences isn’t the same as wanting revenge. She helped terrorists. She should face appropriate punishment for that. But you’re right that revenge won’t actually make you feel better. Won’t bring back the dead wolf. Won’t undo the threat against you.

“Then what will make me feel better?”

“Time. Processing. Letting yourself be angry and scared and guilty even when it’s not rational. And” She looked toward the window. “And letting Connor hold you when he gets back. Letting your mate help carry this.”

“I don’t want to burden him-”

“That’s what mates are for. Sharing burdens. Being strong when the other person can’t be.” She stood. “Grace, Connor took a silver knife for you three nights ago. I think he can handle you being scared and guilty about extremist threats.”

After she left, I tried to paint. Tried to lose myself in color and composition the way I usually did when my mind was too loud.

But all I could see was that dead wolf. All I could think about was Courtney giving information to terrorists. All I could feel was crushing guilt for existing in a way that made me a target.

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