My Gorgeous Wife is an Ex-Convict

Chapter 4

Evelyn’s face contorted with rage just as her father’s vicious slap connected with Grace’s face.

“What are you talking about!” her father screamed. “You drove a car into someone else and were locked up in jail because of it. Our entire family was shamed because of you. You don’t have a future anymore. Do you want to ruin your sister’s future as well?” His eyes were full of disgust for her.

“The one thing you did right was dating Sean Stevens and then you destroyed it all. We had so much respect from other businessmen and our relatives from that connection…”

Grace nodded, understanding that her father, Tony Cummins had been embarrassed.

Her relationship with Sean had afforded her dad the chance to claim a higher social ranking. When she fell… he did too. And her father resented her for it.

Her face burned and she knew she’d likely bear a bruise. But her expression remained calm as if she didn’t care at all.

“I originally just wanted to say a prayer for my mother—that was why you invited me back home, wasn’t it?—But now it seems there is no need for me to do it here. I won’t step foot in this house ever again.”

After saying this, Grace walked out of the house without looking back.

This place had never really been her “home,” and she should’ve stopped hoping for it to be a long time ago.

When Grace got to her apartment, the place was dark and the lights were off. When she turned on the lights, she was greeted by cold silence.

She could tell at a glance that there was no one else in the room.

Was Jason gone? Her heart suddenly felt a little empty. Which was silly, she knew. The man was a stranger. He’d helped her out, but he didn’t owe her anything, and she was very foolish to think he’d want to stay with her.

Grace let out a bitter laugh. She was alone. Again.

Something in her chest ached painfully at the thought as if acknowledging that even out of prison, she was still constricted, and destined to live out her existence without anybody.

Just as she was about to close the door, she saw a figure slowly walking towards her. She was stunned.

It was Jason.

He was still wearing those worn-out clothes of his from yesterday while he held a bag in his hand. His longish hair almost covered the entire upper part of his face, making it difficult for people to see him clearly at a glance, but she knew that under that mussed hair was a face that could easily take over people’s hearts.

If not for the clothes, she would’ve thought him an actor like her sister might work with on one of the TV series. He was that powerfully handsome.

was he

he was… why? Drugs, mental illness, violent tendencies? There were a number of causes that could set someone on the streets, and most of them

animals after

His voice was low and indifferent, but to

tight. “I… I thought you

just

quickly leaned to one side, pulled him into the room, and closed the door. Then, she saw two white steamed

her whole

her, but some homeless stranger

my Grandpa

her. Her beloved grandpa and mother died

from her bag that she’d bought on the way

photo of a man. The man in the photo was about sixty years old. His eyes crinkled up in a smile

candles and

the photograph

me to feed myself. You

smile on her lips. However, her almond-shaped eyes looked misty. The light of the candle and

small nose, and pink lips. She was not at all

had been a rare beauty. To

He understood her to need to say some kind words and to acknowledge her Grandpa’s passing, but fresh

there’s another person here who’s staying with me,” she said softly. She then turned her head and looked at him. She smiled. Under

was like his presence in and of itself was enough to bring her joy. After a moment, she turned to look at the man

bowed to the photo. She closed her eyes and though her lips moved, whatever words she said were between her and

before she nodded and opened her eyes. “Alright, I’ll clean up

“Sure,” he responded easily.

help, but she bid him sit. He washed his hands and set out plates and utensils before sitting at the small table

her name—graceful. And while she didn’t hum and there was no sound in the room, there was a rhythm to her motions as if she moved

a pot of soup on the table between them and a plate of some egg frittata she’d mixed up with

It smelled delicious.

and rather than eat them out of the back

lips twitched at that. She’d been the one

He should be the one thanking her

after a few minutes she asked, “Jay, what kind of work did you do in the