CHASING HIS HEIRESS EX-WIFE

Chapter Three:

I sat in the moving car, hands folded tight over my bag, trying not to show the fear crawling through my skin. The quiet felt heavy, like a blanket that didn’t quite fit.

“Who are you?” I asked the voice from the speakers, staring at my own reflection in the glass. My face looked calm, but my eyes told a different story.

The speaker crackled, then a man answered, steady and smooth, like a river pretending it never changes course. “I’m Mr. Grant. You have questions, and answers are waiting for you.”

My stomach turned. Waiting answers weren’t the kind that came kindly; they were the kind that required you to be ready for them. My name is Ms. Montague, and it was hanging over me like a new weight, and I didn’t know how it felt yet.

“What answers?” I pressed. “And why now?”

He paused, and in that small gap, my thoughts rushed in like water finding cracks. For years, Julian regarded me as a quiet helper in his life, someone he could keep close for comfort but not truly choose. Now strangers were calling me by a name I had never owned, and it made me feel seen in a scary way.

“You will understand soon,” Mr. Grant said, and something in the way he said it made my chest tighten. He wasn’t protecting me; he was directing me, planting my feet in a position I didn’t choose.

The city moved past the windows, bright and busy, but I felt cut off, as if I were watching life instead of living it. My grip on my phone tightened, Julian’s last look flashing in my head, hurt and stubborn and oddly small, like he didn’t know which version of me to believe anymore.

A text popped up on my screen, not from Julian but from an unknown number: “Don’t trust the man speaking to you.” My heart jumped. Someone who knew where I was was watching me already.

I turned to the driver, who hadn’t spoken a single word since I stepped in. “Is he expecting me?” I asked, voice thin with doubt.

The driver’s eyes flicked to mine in the mirror, quick as a blink. “Yes,” he said simply, like that was supposed to fix everything.

My pride pushed against my fear, making my cheeks warm. I had been told I was nothing for so long that I wasn’t sure what it felt like to be someone with real power. The car felt like a bridge I had never agreed to walk, and every mile asked the same question: was I being saved, or taken away?

Then the speaker clicked again. “Your grandfather has been searching for you,” Mr. Grant said.

I heard the word like a bell ringing through dark air. Grandfather. A person who might actually hold my history in his hands, instead of other people guessing about me. The idea was soft and bright—someone connected to me by blood. And suddenly, Julian’s cold silence felt more bitter because he had never asked who I was inside; he had only decided.

A laugh almost escaped me, not happy but stunned by how fast life could change its tune. I looked out again, but the streets weren’t the same. Everything seemed louder now, like my eyes had been opened and the world was adding new sounds.

The car slowed, pulling into a large gate that slid open without sound. My hands went cold. Beyond the gate was a tall house with wide lawns and a quiet that felt planned. People in suits and serious faces stood near the entrance, waiting like birds perched on a wire.

“Is this where I belong?” I asked before I could stop myself, hating how vulnerable it sounded.

Mr. Grant’s voice softened just enough to make me feel even more confused. “It’s where your name comes from,” he said. “That’s a start.”

My chest tightened with jealousy and fear at once, jealousy that Julian had never looked for me like this and fear that I might never know who I was without someone else telling me. I stepped out of the car with careful feet, holding myself together with nothing but will.

A tall man stood on the steps, hands folded behind his back, eyes sharp as knives. His gaze moved over me like a test, and I suddenly felt like I was being weighed without being asked first.

“Welcome, Elara,” he said. The word “welcome” sounded polite, but it felt like a door closing behind me.

I swallowed. “Who are you?”

His mouth tightened, almost annoyed at my bravery. “I’m your grandfather,” he replied, and the air in my lungs seemed to pause, caught between shock and something else I couldn’t name yet.

For a moment, I wanted Julian there, just to see how he would look at me now, whether he would show pride, or fear, or that stubborn face he wore when he felt replaced. The need for him tasted sweet and bitter at once, even as my mind screamed that I could not let him decide my worth anymore.

The tall man lifted his hand slightly, pointing me toward the house. “Come,” he said. “We have much to discuss.”

I took a step forward, heart pounding, feeling the ground change under me like it always did when a truth showed up early.

As I walked inside, I heard a soft sound behind me, footsteps that weren’t mine, and then a familiar voice murmured close to my ear, “So. You’ve finally arrived.” When I turned, my breath caught: the person standing there was the last one I ever expected to find waiting for me.