My Gorgeous Wife is an Ex-Convict!

Chapter 4

Evelyn’s face contorted with rage just as her father’s vicious slap connected with Grace’s face.

“What are you talking about!” her father screamed. “You drove a car into someone else and were locked up in jail because of it. Our entire family was shamed because of you. You don’t have a future anymore. Do you want to ruin your sister’s future as well?” His eyes were full of disgust for her.

“The one thing you did right was dating Sean Stevens and then you destroyed it all. We had so much respect from other businessmen and our relatives from that connection…”

Grace nodded, understanding that her father, Tony Cummins had been embarrassed.

Her relationship with Sean had afforded her dad the chance to claim a higher social ranking. When she fell… he did too. And her father resented her for it.

Her face burned and she knew she’d likely bear a bruise. But her expression remained calm as if she didn’t care at all.

“I originally just wanted to say a prayer for my mother—that was why you invited me back home, wasn’t it?—But now it seems there is no need for me to do it here. I won’t step foot in this house ever again.”

After saying this, Grace walked out of the house without looking back.

This place had never really been her “home,” and she should’ve stopped hoping for it to be a long time ago.

When Grace got to her apartment, the place was dark and the lights were off. When she turned on the lights, she was greeted by cold silence.

She could tell at a glance that there was no one else in the room.

Was Jason gone? Her heart suddenly felt a little empty. Which was silly, she knew. The man was a stranger. He’d helped her out, but he didn’t owe her anything, and she was very foolish to think he’d want to stay with her.

Grace let out a bitter laugh. She was alone. Again.

Something in her chest ached painfully at the thought as if acknowledging that even out of prison, she was still constricted, and destined to live out her existence without anybody.

Just as she was about to close the door, she saw a figure slowly walking towards her. She was stunned.

It was Jason.

in his hand. His longish hair almost covered the entire upper part of his face, making it difficult for people

the clothes, she would’ve thought him an actor like her sister might work with on one

he really a homeless

mental illness, violent tendencies? There were a number of causes that could set someone on the streets, and most of them carried elements of instability. She knew that taking

were tribal animals after all. They needed

low and indifferent, but to

“I…

“I just went out

leaned to one side, pulled him into the room, and closed the door. Then, she saw two white steamed buns in the bag

and felt that her whole body seemed

abandoned her, but some homeless stranger was the one to

to light a candle for my

was cruel to her. Her beloved grandpa and mother died only

movements as the took the prayer candle from her bag that she’d bought on

photo of a man. The man in the photo was about sixty years old. His eyes crinkled up in a smile that looked

lit the candles

kissed the

now. I’m living a good life. I have a job that pays well enough for me to feed myself. You can rest in peace, and in the future, I will only

one side and looked at the woman in front of him with a smile on her lips. However, her almond-shaped eyes looked misty. The light of the candle and the light of the lamp in the corner

She was not at all bad-looking, but he’d seen countless women more

been a rare beauty. To Jason, Grace’s looks

and to acknowledge her Grandpa’s passing, but fresh out of prison and working in a sanitation center, to say she was ‘doing well’

then turned her head and looked at him. She

his presence in and of itself was enough to bring her joy. After a moment, she turned to look at the man in the photo again. “So, I am doing really good, grandpa. You can rest

eyes and though her lips

her eyes. “Alright, I’ll clean up and make some soup. Let’s have

“Sure,” he responded easily.

she bid him sit. He washed his hands and set out plates and utensils before sitting at the small table and watching

hum and there was no sound in the room, there was a rhythm to her motions as if she

plate of some egg frittata

It smelled delicious.

buns he’d brought back and rather than eat them out of the back

at that. She’d been the one to give