Traded Husbands, Tangled Hearts: Can Destiny Be Changed?

Feeling awkward, Gracie turned on the shower, hoping the sound of rushing water would drown out the couple's private conversation. Still, Lia's muffled sobs slipped through the hiss of the water. "All this time, I've known how much you've sacrificed for us." Lia's voice trembled between pauses. "I understand you never wanted this marriage... What I said at the ceremony—it came from jealousy. You can't imagine how long I've dreamed of walking down the aisle with you. Before we ever said our vows, you already belonged to another, didn't you?" Her tone dripped with delicate sorrow, each word threaded with just enough fragility to draw sympathy. Her voice, low and tremulous, carried that practiced vulnerability that made even Gracie's chest tighten for a fleeting second—let alone Brayden, who had long been swayed by her gentle demeanor. What sounded like an apology was, in truth, a masterful twist of guilt—an accusation cloaked in remorse, designed to sting while appearing soft-spoken. Any man with a shred of conscience would have felt a twinge of guilt. Right on cue, Brayden's voice drifted through the thin wall. "I've said this more times than I can count. If you're feeling uneasy, I'll make time for you. But Gracie has nothing to do with what's between us—she isn't your rival. She won't affect our relationship." A humorless breath slipped from Gracie's lips. She couldn't tell whether to laugh or sigh. The irony was sharp—every word he used to defend her would only make Lia hate her more, as if his calm explanations were drawing the target squarely onto her back. Still, Gracie had no doubt left that Brayden was nothing like Theo. After her shower, she found Brayden waiting with a folded set of pajamas in hand. His manner was calm and restrained, his face unreadable beneath that composed exterior. "You take the bed. I'll sleep on the sofa," he said with polite finality. She didn't bother refusing. "Thanks," she murmured, too weary to argue. The moment her head touched the pillow, exhaustion pulled her under. By morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains—and the room was silent. Brayden had vanished. A neatly dressed man in a tailored suit waited outside the door—Brayden's assistant, Charlie. "Mr. Stanley had an urgent matter to attend to," he said politely. "He asked me to see you home. I've taken the liberty of ordering breakfast for you. I'll drive you over to his villa once you've finished." "Alright. Thank you," she replied softly. Just as breakfast arrived, her phone started to ring. She picked up the call. "Hi, Gracie!" Her assistant, Phoebe Quinn's cheerful voice came on the line. "How's married life treating you on day one?" "Spare me the small talk," Gracie said dryly, already sensing trouble. Phoebe gave a nervous laugh. "Right, well… our team's main machine just broke down." The spoon froze halfway to Gracie's lips. A chill crept through her chest. "You're telling me the machine worth millions just broke?" Though she had an entire research team under her command, she kept that fact under wraps, claiming she was just another employee to keep Ellie and Jane from catching wind of it. In truth, the whole research company belonged to her. Phoebe's tone carried an awkward edge as she admitted, "Those machines are delicate, and with the company short on funds, replacing one isn't exactly easy." A wave of pressure settled over Gracie's chest. "Alright. I'll handle it." Once the call ended, she leaned back and mentally tallied her remaining assets, the weight of every dollar pressing on her mind. Her savings existed, but buying high-precision machines would still drain her dry. Worry gnawed at her, killing her appetite. When she stepped into the elevator downstairs, she unexpectedly came face-to-face with Theo and Ellie. They stood shoulder to shoulder, an unmistakably intimate pair. Ellie's eyes flicked over Gracie with thinly veiled disdain. "Where's Brayden, Gracie? Why are you wandering around by yourself? Did you actually spend your wedding night alone?" Ellie's tone dripped with mockery, her chin tilted in smug amusement. Gracie met her gaze with an easy smile. "He had work to handle." "How heartless," Ellie sneered, feigning sympathy. "It's your wedding night, for heaven's sake. No man that busy should abandon his bride." She tossed her hair back, looping her arm through Theo's with a tinkling laugh. "You really should put more effort into your looks. Don't give other women a chance to swoop in. The wedding was humiliating enough—if Brayden ends up in a scandal, the entire family will take the hit." Gracie, untouched by the jab, stayed as serene as ever. "It's fine," she replied, her tone as cool as still water. That unbothered composure only fueled Ellie's irritation; trying to get a reaction from Gracie felt like shouting into a void. Her smile stiffened as she tightened her grip on Theo's arm, resentment flickering in her eyes. In her mind, Gracie's indifference was nothing more than a façade—just a desperate attempt to save face in front of her. She was sure Gracie had spent the night crying, and the thought alone brightened her mood. Theo's eyes, however, lingered on Gracie for a moment longer than expected. Sensing his scrutiny, Gracie instinctively shifted to stand partly behind Charlie, using him as a quiet shield. A flicker of disdain crossed Theo's face, sharp and fleeting, before he looked away. Gracie really did seem as useless as Ellie had said. The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. Ellie strutted out first. "So, Gracie, what's the plan for your honeymoon? Theo and I already booked our flight for this afternoon—we're heading overseas. What about you?" she asked with a bright, mocking lilt. "Did Brayden say anything about where you two are going for your honeymoon?" Her tone dripped with false sympathy, her real aim to watch Gracie's calm façade splinter. With Brayden's heart clearly tied to Lia, a honeymoon between him and Gracie seemed laughable. Gracie, however, merely shifted her gaze toward Theo, her expression cold and unreadable. "We're busy. There won't be a honeymoon." Ellie gave a low, mocking chuckle, leaning in close enough for her perfume to sting the air. "It's one thing to lie to everyone else, but convincing yourself? That's just pathetic." Her smirk deepened as she added, "Brayden's probably off with another woman right now, while you're left here all alone. How tragic." Gracie lifted her gaze, her expression calm and composed. "That doesn't bother me." Ellie arched her brow with a smug tilt of her chin. "Let's hope you're not just saying that." Before the tension could stretch further, Charlie, who had been standing quietly nearby, finally spoke to Gracie. "Mr. Stanley asked me to inform you that he's been overwhelmed with work lately and won't have time for a honeymoon. So, he set up an account with eight million dollars in your name. You're free to spend it however you please." A flicker of light sparked in Gracie's eyes. The knot of worry she'd carried about funding her machine suddenly loosened. Ellie's smugness faltered, her smile turning brittle as irritation flickered in her eyes. Theo had handed her nothing more than a two-million-dollar card—barely enough to flaunt. All she'd managed was to humiliate herself. With a bitter laugh, she snapped, "Well, I hope you enjoy your happiness—alone." Then she spun on her heel and stalked off, anger tightening every step. A flicker of excitement trembled in Gracie's voice as she faced Charlie. "Is that true?" Charlie let out a quiet laugh, his tone teasing. "Guess your husband's devotion isn't your biggest concern." "Sometimes, money outweighs emotions," Gracie said lightly, then hesitated as a thought hit her. Her eyes narrowed. "Wait—you were just trying to help me save face, weren't you? There's no card at all, is there?"