Chapter 2
Grace's POV
After the party ended and everyone left, the real storm was just beginning.
I need to explain my complicated relationship with the Ashford family first. At 22, I'm Grace Smith—on the surface, just an orphan studying biomedical engineering. But in reality, I'm steel magnate William Wilson's illegitimate daughter, owning 15% of Ashford Corporation shares. I only learned this secret in my past life right before I died.
Parker Ashford, 25, the family's second son and former equestrian champion. A riding accident three years ago left him paralyzed, making him an outcast in his own family. Ironically, he was the one secretly paying my tuition with his allowance, never knowing I was actually a hidden shareholder.
In my past life, Eleanor Ashford—that old witch—discovered my identity but intercepted the lawyer's message. She forced me to marry her eldest son Max, wanting to control my shares through marriage. Thinking I was just a poor student, I was threatened with losing my tuition if I refused, so I gave in.
The result? On my wedding day, Parker jumped from a window. His note said he couldn't watch me marry someone else. I suffered for three years, then chose death to join him.
Then I was reborn, back to this night that would change everything.
Now I stood before the Ashford estate's gates, black iron bars towering like a prison. The guards recognized me—after all, I was Parker's sponsored student who often visited.
"Miss Smith, it's so late..."
"Let me in." My voice was colder than usual. "I need to see Parker."
Ten minutes later, I stood outside the estate's private study. Firelight danced from the hearth, painting the room blood-red. Parker sat in his wheelchair with his back to me, facing the burning flames.
"You're insane to come here." He didn't turn around, voice ice-cold. "You've embarrassed me enough tonight."
I entered and closed the door. "I told you, I'm going to marry you."
Parker spun his wheelchair around sharply, his expression terrifyingly twisted. This was the first time I'd seen him so angry.
"Marry me?" He laughed coldly. "Grace, does an orphan girl really think she can talk about love? Look at me—I'm already broken. Are you humiliating me or yourself?"
His words cut like knives, but I knew this was his defense mechanism. In my past life, I was too weak and backed down when he said things like this. Not this time.
"What do you think I'm after?" Parker continued his attack. "My money? The Ashford name? Or do you think a cripple would be easy to control?"
"Enough." I interrupted, looking directly into his eyes. "I never lie, Parker."
"Lie?" He smiled mockingly. "You can't even explain why you love me. Do you know what I'm like now? My legs..."
"I know." I stepped closer. "I know your legs are atrophied, I know you need a catheter, I know you sometimes have accidents. I know everything."
Parker's face went deathly pale. "Get out."
"No." I stood before him. "I'll prove it to you."
"GET OUT!" he roared, grabbing a book from the table and hurling it at me.
I didn't dodge. The book hit my shoulder, but I didn't step back.
"I'll be back." I looked at him, then turned and left.
The next few days, I began my relentless pursuit.
The first morning, I climbed over the estate wall carrying homemade breakfast and knocked on Parker's door.
"Open up, Parker. I made your favorite French toast."
The door didn't open, but I heard something crash inside.
Security came and dragged me out. I shouted at them, "I'll keep coming back until he agrees to talk to me!"
The second day, I crashed an Ashford Corporation board meeting.
"Hello everyone, I'm Grace Wilson," I stood at the conference table, ignoring shocked expressions. "I want to announce that I'm marrying Parker Ashford."
Max exploded, Eleanor's face turned livid. Security dragged me out again.
The third day, I sat in the estate garden from morning to night.
"Miss, you can't stay here," the butler said politely.
"I'm not leaving." I hugged my knees on the grass. "Not until he sees me."
They called the police, but I came back the fourth day anyway.
Fifth day, sixth day, seventh day...
I knew Parker was watching. I could feel his gaze from behind his room's curtains. Every time I was dragged away, I saw the curtains twitch.
That was enough. I knew his defenses were weakening.
On the eighth night, I decided to deliver a knockout punch.
I waited until midnight, then climbed over the wall again. This time I didn't go to his room—I went straight to his private bathroom.
I knew his routine. Every night at 11 PM, he spent an hour in the bathroom—his most vulnerable time.
The bathroom door was unlocked—who would expect someone to break in?
I pushed it open, warm steam hitting my face. Marble walls and mirrors reflected dim lighting.
Then I saw Parker.
He sat on a specialized shower chair, back to me. Water cascaded from the showerhead onto his shoulders. His upper body was still muscular and perfect, but below...
His legs were thin as sticks, muscles severely atrophied. Surgical scars crossed his thighs, white marks crawling across his skin.
"Who's there?" Parker sensed someone and turned sharply.
Seeing me, his eyes widened. "Grace? How did you get in?"
He frantically tried to cover himself, but movement was difficult in the chair. This was how he never wanted to be seen—his most real, most vulnerable state.
"Get out! Get out NOW!" His voice held desperation. "You can't see me like this!"
But I didn't leave. Instead, I took off my shoes and walked into the shower area.
"Don't look at me..." Parker's voice trembled. "Please don't look at me..."
I knelt before him, ignoring the warm water hitting me, gently stroking the scars on his legs.
"These scars are beautiful." I looked up at him, tears in my eyes. "Because they're part of you."
"Grace, don't..."
I bent down and softly kissed the longest scar on his thigh. Parker's body shuddered violently, his breathing became rapid.
"I've seen you at your most vulnerable now." My voice was soft but clear in the quiet bathroom. "Your body, your scars, your pain. Only I get to see, only I get to touch."
"Don't... don't look at me like that..." Parker's voice was almost a sob. "I'm not whole anymore..."
"You're everything to me." I kissed his atrophied calf. "Whole, broken, it's all you. I want all of it."
Parker's hands trembled, wanting to push me away but reluctant to. I could feel his defenses crumbling, that contradiction of wanting to believe in love while fearing more pain.
"Why?" He finally asked the question, voice thick with tears. "Why me? Why not Max? He has everything, he's complete..."
I looked up into his eyes, where tears were gathering.
"Because I don't love your legs or your status." I stood and cupped his face. "I love your soul, Parker Ashford. The man who secretly pays tuition for an orphan girl, who'd rather suffer alone than burden others."
Water kept flowing, hitting us both. Parker's tears mixed with the droplets—I couldn't tell which was which.
"I don't deserve this..." He closed his eyes. "I can't give you anything..."
"You've already given me the world." I kissed his forehead. "Now let me protect you."
This time, he didn't push me away.
