Please Me Daddy (Gracie) novel Chapter 237

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Nine years later

Grace

I never believed in happy endings.

All my life, there had only ever been sorrow in different forms, disappointment disguised as hope, and love that always seemed to come with conditions attached, so I convinced myself that as long as I could hold tightly to the illusion of happiness, even if it was cracked beneath the surface, I would be able to survive anything that came my way.

I told myself that enduring was enough, that pretending was enough, that if I smiled long enough the pain would eventually blur into something bearable, but I never realized how deep the fractures were in that illusion until the day my ex–fiancé cheated on me with a man and shattered whatever remained of my naive belief in forever.

I remember standing there that day feeling as though the ground had disappeared beneath my feet, not knowing whether I was supposed to scream, cry, laugh at the absurdity of it all, or simply disappear, and that confusion was what led me to drink more than I ever had in my life and stumble into the bed of a stranger, a man colder than ice, a man whose presence alone could

silence a room.

Apollo Reed.

The most powerful man in the world.

The next morning, I accused him of taking advantage of me, only to find out that I had been the one bold enough, to take advantage of him instead. I remember how mortified I felt, how determined I was to erase that night from my memory and never cross paths with him again, telling myself that men like him and women like me existed in completely different worlds that were never meant to collide twice.

But fate has always had a twisted sense of humor.

The stranger I tried so desperately to forget became my new boss, and the man I thought would never look at me again turned out to be someone who couldn’t forget me at all. He wanted me, and as much as I tried to deny it, I wanted him too.

At first, we both pretended that it was just desire, and curiosity, something temporary that would burn out once satisfied, but the more time we spent together, the more our feelings rooted themselves into something deeper, and neither of us could control or cut away.

There were misunderstandings, dangers, secrets, and wounds from the past that threatened to tear us apart more than once, but somehow, we held on. Even when I lay bleeding from a gunshot wound to my stomach, hovering somewhere between life and death, I refused to let go.

All my life, I had always been selfless to a fault, putting others before myself, enduring quietly, sacrificing without complaint, but in that moment on the cold floor, I wanted to be selfish for the first time. I was selfish. I clung desperately to life because I did not want to die. I did not want my baby to die. I did not want to leave Apollo, my family, and my friends.

Maybe it was a hallucination born from blood loss and desperation, but I saw her, little Hannah, the precious child who had died, smiling at me and reaching out her hand as if guiding me back, and when I woke up to the sound of frantic voices and the steady beep of machines, I believed with my whole heart that she had saved me. That was why I named my daughter Hannah, so I would never forget the miracle that carried me back to life.

“Grace.”

Eleanor’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts, warm and slightly impatient. I turned around to see her standing there with a confused expression, holding up two dresses in her hands as if she had been waiting for my opinion for far too long.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked. “You haven’t picked a dress yet. It’s Christmas, and everyone is downstairs waiting.”

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I looked at her, noticing how she still looked like the Eleanor I had always known and loved, yet there was a maturity in her features that hadn’t been there before. Her hair was shorter now, cut three years ago in a bold decision she never regretted, and she had been obsessed with short hair ever since.

She lifted the dresses higher and sighed dramatically, “I tried my best to pick these two, but your closet is so full it feels like I’m shopping in a luxury mall. Your husband is spoiling you too much.”

I couldn’t help but smile.

Standing up, my robe light against my skin, I walked toward her and wrapped my arms around her without warning. I held her tightly, breathing in the familiar comfort of someone who had stood by me during my worst and brightest days.

“Eleanor,” I murmured softly, “you’re amazing.”

She stiffened in surprise before leaning back to look at me suspiciously.

“Hey, what’s with you?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “You’re always clingy, but this is extra clingy.”

I smiled at Eleanor and adjusted the robe around my shoulders before saying lightly, “Maybe it’s because it’s Christmas, but I’m very happy this morning.”

Eleanor narrowed her eyes at me as if she didn’t believe a single word, and then a slow smirk spread across her face. Her gaze drifted deliberately to my neck, and she tilted her head.

“Oh,” she drawled teasingly, “maybe it’s not Christmas. Maybe it’s just because you had a very good night.”

My eyes widened, and instinctively I reached up to touch my neck, only to feel the faint tenderness there, and I immediately stepped back as heat rushed to my face.

That man. No matter how many times I warned him to be careful, to remember that I had work, that the kids would notice, that I was not as young as I used to be, he never listened. The moment he looked at me, it was like restraint was a foreign concept to him. It was honestly a miracle I could even walk properly after last night.

Eleanor burst into laughter at my reaction, clearly satisfied with herself. “Alright, alright,” she said, waving her hand dismissively while still grinning. “I’ll stop. Just pick a dress and get ready. Everyone is waiting downstairs, and if we keep them waiting any longer, your husband might come up here himself and it will probably take two more hours before you come downstairs.”

Just as I opened my mouth to reply, the bedroom door flew open without warning, and three little figures came running in, their laughter filling the room before I could even react.

“Mummy!”

I turned just in time to see my triplets charging toward me in matching red Santa outfits, their tiny boots pattering loudly against the floor as they giggled uncontrollably.

Oliver, Owen, and Elliott looked so much like little copies of Apollo that sometimes it startled me, the same dark hair, the same gray eyes, but with softer expressions and childish innocence that made my heart melt every time I looked at them.

I immediately knelt down and opened my arms. “Careful,” I said, laughing as they crashed into me without slowing down. They didn’t listen at all. They wrapped their small arms around me, jumping excitedly as they shouted over each other, “ Mummy, good morning!” and “Merry Christmas!” even though they had already said it at least five times since waking up. Before I could respond properly, another voice followed them in. “Guys! How many times did I tell you not to bother her so early?”

I looked up to see Hannah standing in the doorway, now fifteen years old and taller than I sometimes remembered. She was breathtakingly beautiful, with Apollo’s sharp gray eyes but my features, a perfect blend of both of us. She tried so hard to look mature and responsible, especially in front of her younger brothers.

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She walked over and gently tugged at the triplets. “It’s still early, let Mum get dressed and come downstairs first.”

I stood up slowly and smiled at her.

“It’s okay,” I said softly before leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “Merry Christmas, baby,”

She tried not to smile, clearly attempting to maintain her cool older–sister image, but I caught the way her lips twitched.

Elliott pouted and looked up at her. “But we want to see Mummy. We miss her.”

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