Page 103 of High Reward

When I find Grace, she’s in the kitchen with Lili and Tyson Vance, helping prep lunch for everyone locked down in the club. Grace is clearly there for moral support, but Lili’s hands are covered in flour, a streak across her cheek as she kneads dough with more force than necessary.

Grace looks up when I enter, her expression immediately shifting as she reads my face. “What happened?”

“Another delivery,” I say, keeping my voice neutral. “To your apartment. We have it in Owen’s office.”

Lili pauses kneading and wipes her hands on a nearby towel and moves to follow Grace, but I stop her. “Stay here, help Tyson, Spitfire. I need to talk to Grace alone.”

She nods and returns to the dough, no questions asked.

Tyson gives me a nod of his own, silently offering to keep Lili occupied. One of the many reasons I trust him and value his contribution to the club.

“More flowers?” Grace asks, squeezing Lili’s shoulder as she squeezes past the prep counter to join me.

“Same as before. Purple roses.”

Her jaw tightens. “And a card?”

“A letter Y this time.”

We walk through the club without stopping to talk to anyone. Grace’s shoulders are straight, her steps purposeful. No visible fear, just pissed-off determination. I fucking love how strong she is.

“Owen traced the delivery,” I tell her as we approach his office. “It’s definitely Kara. The IP address for the online order came from a house in Henderson, and her name is on the rental agreement. We have digital proof now.”

Grace nods once. “Good. That’s… good.” Her voice doesn’t match her words. Confirmation has to be painful in its own way. I squeeze her hand and press a kiss to her cheek.

“We’re going to end this soon, butterfly.”

Owen’s door is locked, so I knock and wait for Owen to answer.

He’s sitting at his desk, sleeves rolled up, typing furiously.

“This little bitch is something else. Turns out Sampson was trying to file for divorce, and she was raking him over the coals incourt. Claimed he cheated on her with Grace years ago, and that started the decline of their relationship.”

Grace visibly recoils at that, and I wrap an arm around her to keep her steady.

“She’s fucking delusional,” Grace whispers against my shoulder.

“Clearly,” Owen snorts. “I’m glad you got out of there while you could, Gracie… Grace. Sorry, I’m trying.”

Grace gives him a small smile. “I appreciate the effort, Master Owen. What do you need me to look at?”

He switches the monitor on the wall behind him and turns in his chair to face it. “These are the letters you’ve received so far. Do they mean anything to you?”

Grace studies them, silence hanging heavy with tension as we wait for her to speak.

“The game,” Grace murmurs. “The fucking word game.”

She steps closer to the monitor and tilts her head to one side. “Do you have a pad of sticky notes or something I can write on?”

Owen opens his desk drawer and pulls out a pad of bright pink sticky notes.

“Bellamy’s,” he says when I raise an eyebrow at the color. “If I had my way we would have nothing but the original yellow.”

Grace lets out a small laugh as she sits in the visitor chair opposite Owen and pulls a pen from the organizer. She writes each letter on a sticky note and lays them out.

“You know I can just rearrange them on the screen, right?”

“Hush,” she says, rearranging the letters a few times. “I think better with something tactile.”