It was said that Grace Lockwood’s son had died young because he had fallen ill during the chaos of the war. With no one to help, the illness left lasting damage that led to his premature death.
“Grandpa, did you hear what they said about me?” Simon complained.
“One is your grandmother, and the other is your aunt. You will not be impolite,” Edgar said firmly.
Though still resentful, Simon didn’t dare say another word.
Edgar looked at the grand decorations for the fiftieth anniversary of his passing. “Grace,” he said, “there will be no need for this anymore. I’m alive. Have someone clear this away.”
Grace?
Her heart clenched when she heard him say her name.
Fifty years. She never thought she would hear him say it again.
Grace struggled to control her emotions. “You’re an old man now. You could be dead tomorrow. No need to clear it away; it’ll be ready when the time comes.”
Edgar’s face darkened.
“Grace, I remember you used to be a proper lady, always polite and soft-spoken. A true daughter of a noble house. How have you become so vulgar?”
Grace wanted to laugh at his words.
He remembered she used to be a proper lady, but did he know why she had changed? If she had remained the same, if she hadn’t become fierce, how could she have guided the Lockwood family through an era of war and chaos?
They would have been torn apart and devoured long ago.

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