It wasn't until she saw her husband kissing her sister-in-law at her brother's funeral that Paisley Windsor realized the woman William Harper had always held close to his heart was none other than Grace Yanis.
Autumn rain whispered down on the dark green pines of the cemetery—and on Paisley's heart too.
She stood quietly behind William in a simple, well-tailored black dress.
William was holding an umbrella, gently supporting Grace, who looked like she'd collapse at any moment.
Grace leaned heavily against him, and he lowered his head, whispering something softly near her ear—the kind of gentle patience Paisley had never witnessed from him before.
As the crowd started to break up and drift toward the temporary shelter nearby, Paisley followed numbly, hoping to find a quiet corner to breathe. But just as she passed a secluded patch behind the shelter, two hushed voices made her freeze.
William and Grace.
She instinctively ducked behind a thick pine tree.
"William, now that Matthew's gone... what's gonna happen to me and the baby?"
"Don't worry. Matthew's not here anymore, but I'll take care of both of you."
"But what about Paisley? You're still her husband... won't she mind?"
William let out a soft, almost mocking laugh. "Paisley? She's just someone to keep appearances at home. What I do isn't her business."
After a pause, his tone dipped lower and softer: "You're not like her. Don't overthink it. I got you."
Paisley leaned against the rough bark, her nails digging into her palms without even noticing.
Just a decoration? No say in anything?
Turned out everything she gave these past three years—her time, her love, her trust—was worthless to him.
She staggered back in disbelief, wanting nothing more than to run far, far away from this sickening scene.
But when she got back home and looked around, she was suddenly struck by how ridiculous things were.
This house she had lived in for three years barely had any trace of her in it.
No cozy throw pillows she admired, no cute little knick-knacks she once impulsively bought.
The walls were covered in abstract paintings she couldn't stand, instead of travel photos she took and loved.
Because William didn't like that stuff. And gradually, she started hiding those parts of herself.
Slowly, she had tucked herself away in hopes of being the "perfect" wife.
Only today did it hit her—she never really became a part of his life. She hadn't even left a mark in their so-called "home."
Maybe it was the crushing grief, or just the cold rain seeping into her bones, but by the next day, Paisley was burning up with fever.
Her body was like fire, her head pounding. She dragged herself out of the guestroom bed to get water, only to collapse on the carpet from weakness.
Time blurred. Eventually, her fingers found her phone and, on instinct, she dialed William.
It rang forever before he finally picked up. Background noise buzzed—sounded like a bunch of people around.
"What is it?" William's voice was sharp and impatient.
"I have a fever. I feel... awful..." Her voice was hoarse and barely came out.
"Fever?" Suspicion and annoyance laced his tone. "Paisley, my brother just died, and Grace is overwhelmed with everything right now. Don't start faking sickness for attention. Not now. You're being ridiculous."
Paisley opened her mouth but couldn't push out a single word.
"If you're fine, I'm hanging up. I've got a lot going on."
Click. Just silence.
Lying on the floor, still gripping her phone, all she could feel was bone-deep fatigue and a kind of emptiness that felt endless.
Who knew how long passed before she heard the sound of keys jingling at the front door.
William was back, his jacket still carrying a chill from the outside air.He glanced at Paisley lying on the floor with a frown—not out of concern, but clear annoyance.
"You done with the drama? Isn't the floor freezing?"
Paisley closed her eyes. She didn't even have the strength to argue anymore.
Just then, William's phone rang. It was Grace.
He picked it up, and his tone did a 180.
"Hey, Grace? Got a headache from crying too much? Mm, I'll be there soon with some medicine."
After hanging up, he threw a glance at Paisley curled up on the cold floor and said flatly, "Get up. Clean yourself up and put on something black. A bunch of relatives and guests are coming this afternoon. Grace isn't doing well, so you'll kneel in her place and thank the visitors for her and Oliver Harper."
Having a fever had left Paisley dizzy and half-deaf, but that one sentence slammed into her loud and clear.
Even when she was this sick, he wanted her to kneel on behalf of Grace?
A chill spread from her chest all the way to her bones.
Every hope, every ounce of love in her heart crumbled and turned to ash.
She forced herself up, locking eyes with the man in front of her, and said slowly and calmly,
"William, let's get a divorce."
It was over for her. Completely.
Biting back the sting in her eyes, she said evenly, "If you really love Grace that much, fine. Let's divorce. You can have her."
But William's face darkened in a flash.
"Paisley! The Harper family isn't the type to treat marriage like a game."
"Matthew just passed away and you wanna stir up more drama at home?"
"I know you're mad, that's why you're bringing up divorce. I'm not even gonna entertain it. Watch your mouth next time."
Paisley just stared at him, tongue tasting bitter.
So he really believed she couldn't live without him? Was that why hurting her meant nothing to him?
Then William noticed the red puffiness at the corners of her eyes and finally realized he'd gone too far. His tone softened.
"Look, Mom and Grandma never liked Grace. If they hear you talking like that, they'll blame her for our issues. She'll end up getting punished all over again."
Paisley didn't know whether to laugh or cry at that.
He wasn't against the divorce for her sake—it was all about protecting Grace's reputation.
She didn't feel like explaining anymore. Just nodded, then turned and started packing.
She used to be the one who always packed William's suitcase before he went on trips.
Seeing that she wasn't making a fuss, William looked satisfied and took a seat beside her, slipping back into that gentle demeanor of his.
"Forget it, if you don't want to kneel, I won't force you... Wait, what are you packing?"
As he spoke, he noticed the clothes going into the suitcase and suddenly paused.
Paisley didn't stop her hands. "Just tossing out things I don't wear anymore."
His brows snapped together. He pulled out a dress she'd just folded in.
"Tossing? Isn't this the one I brought back for you last year from that trip?"
Paisley looked up, caught off guard that he still remembered.
She'd thought he'd erased everything that wasn't about Grace.
Then again, every gift he gave her was either an afterthought or something Grace didn't want—of course he remembered anything tied to Grace.
She let out a soft, bitter laugh inside and replied with a straight face, "Oliver burned a hole in it last year. It's ruined, I can't wear it."
Whatever irritation William was feeling vanished.
His expression shifted awkwardly between discomfort and guilt.
"You should've said something. Oliver's just spoiled by Grace. Don't take it to heart. I'll ask Daniel to pick up a new one for you tomorrow as a replacement."
All Paisley felt was a deeper emptiness.
She *had* said something—he just didn't care.
Shaking her head, she said, "No need."
It was something that should've been thrown out long ago, but for some reason she kept holding on.
And now? Even if he tried to make up for it, it didn't matter anymore.
