)

The next day, Grayson hurried to Harvard school, dressed in a sleek black suit. His sharp silver eyes darted around, searching for Alison. Grayson didn't plan to have feelings for her, and it seemed she felt the same in a way. From what Grayson knew, he was just a part of her plans, but she gave up on them halfway.

Why did she do it? The answer was simple, because half way through her plan, she cared for Grayson even though she didn't want to.

Throughout his search, notifications from Alison's phone kept popping up, reminding him to delete recorded phone calls. But Grayson ignored them. He didn't want to delve into the painful arguments between Alison and Mason. He knew it would only intensify the feelings he had for her.

He arrived at the rooftop garden and scanned the area, hoping to find Alison there. As he approached the red maple tree, his gaze fell upon the dried red wine on the floor and the scattered broken glass, remnants of...yesterday. If Alison wasn't here, there was only one place she could be.

Grayson arrived at Mason's mansion in a taxi. The driver dropped him off at the front gate near the Greek fountain. Approaching the mansion, Grayson spotted Mason's bodyguards stationed outside. He walked up to them and confidently stated, "I have a meeting with Mr. Valentine, and I am to wait inside for him." The security guards looked at one another, then at Grayson, unsure of what to do, yet without questioning him, they allowed him entry. His reputation as a wealthy individual seemed to have worked in his favour.

Grayson stepped into the grand ballroom and made his way up the staircase. Walking along the corridors adorned with beautiful paintings, he eventually reached a door that caught his attention - it was Alison's room. He opened the door slowly, calling out her name, but there was no response. "Alison?" He opened the door slowly, stepped inside the room and noticed that the bookshelf had been pushed aside, revealing the hidden bedroom. He peered inside the room, only to find Alison on the floor, her black hair cascading down her back. She seemed to be searching for something through the scattered paper on the floor, unaware of his presence.

Grayson dangled Alison's phone, catching her attention. She turned her head, her eyes meeting his, and he softly said, "Looking for this?"

Alison gave Grayson a smile, her eyes lighting up as he squatted down to her eye level. Without hesitation, Alison wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. Grayson hugged her back, gently squeezing her. He could feel that she had lost weight, and the faint scent of vanilla surrounded them.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Alison said, still holding Grayson close. "It's not much, but it's home." Grayson's heart ached with sadness. This was where Alison lived, trapped in a life controlled by Mason, writing stories as if she were his slave. "I know," Grayson simply replied, conveying that he understood both where she lived and Mason's influence. Alison trailed her fingers along his back, causing Grayson to shudder as her touch felt warm and ticklish. She whispered in his ear, her voice barely audible, "What do you know?"

Grayson hesitated for a moment before responding. "Yesterday, you..." His voice trailed off, leaving the unspoken truth hanging in the air. Alison's fingers paused at his neck, silently urging him to continue."I was there, and I..." He couldn't say it. He couldn't admit that he had witnessed her attempt to end her own life. Thankfully, Alison's phone buzzed, drawing their attention to another notification asking about deleting phone calls for more storage space.

"Did you..."

"Yes," Grayson replied, knowing she was asking if he had listened to her recorded phone calls. "I'm sorry for your loss." He gave her a gentle pat on the back, and she loosened her grip on him. "I'm sorry," she whispered, leaning closer until she was sitting on Grayson's lap, her gaze still fixed behind him. "You should..." The words hung unspoken in the air. Grayson knew she was about to tell him to leave, but he also knew she didn't really want him to go, which made him blush slightly. Grayson's Hawthorne instincts urged him to ask a question that had been weighing on his mind. "What did William mean when he said you killed your mother?"

Alison didn't flinch or hesitate. Her response came with an ease, as if nothing else mattered anymore, as if she had decided to stop playing. "I did," she swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. "After my parents' divorce, my mother started to lose herself, and I pushed her beyond her limits. And my father..."

Suddenly, Alison pulled away from Grayson, her face pale as if she had seen a ghost. "I have to go." She stood up and grabbed a familiar jacket from her bed, walking past Grayson. "Go where?" Grayson followed her, concern etched on his face. "What's wrong?"

As they descended the stairs and stepped outside, Grayson finally stopped Alison, holding her by the collar of his own jacket that he had loaned her. He raised an eyebrow, silently demanding an explanation for her sudden urgency. "After my parents divorced, my father stayed in West Virginia."

A taxi pulled up at the gate, and the security guards performed their checks before allowing it to enter.

"My father loved my mother, and now that she's gone..." Grayson didn't need her to finish the sentence; he understood what she meant.

The taxi waited in front of them, ready to take them somewhere. Alison looked up at Grayson, and she confirmed his suspicion with a single nod.

Alison's father, consumed by grief and false hope, had spent three years waiting for his wife and children to return, and now that the love of his life was gone, he was going to take his own life.