The Father Who Called His Five Children a “Curse”… Returned 30 Years Later When They Became Powerful

Chapter 4

Grace descended the staircase slowly, one hand resting on the polished rail, her green gown catching the light with each step. She did not hurry. She did not hesitate. She moved like someone who had spent thirty years becoming the kind of woman who could face anything without blinking.

Raymond watched her approach and felt something twist in his chest.

He had expected anger.

Or tears.

Or the cold satisfaction of a woman who wanted to watch him beg.

What he did not expect was the almost clinical calm in her eyes.

“Raymond,” she said when she reached him.

Not a question.

Not a greeting.

Just his name, spoken like a fact she had long since accepted.

“Grace.” His voice cracked on the first syllable. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You look—”

“I know how I look.”

She said it without vanity. Without cruelty. Just a simple correction, as if she had no interest in hearing his compliments.

“I need to talk to you,” Raymond said. “To all of you. I know I do not have the right to ask for anything. I know what I did. But I am sick, Grace. The doctors say I do not have much time. And I thought—before I go—I thought maybe I could see them. Explain myself. Maybe make things right.”

Grace studied him.

Not with hatred.

With the patience of someone who had learned to read people the way others read books.

“Is that what you came for?” she asked. “Closure?”

“And help,” he admitted, because lying felt useless under that gaze. “I do not have money for treatment. I do not have anyone. I know I do not deserve it, but I am asking anyway.”

Grace nodded slowly.

Then she said something he did not expect.

“The boys are inside. All five of them.” She paused. “They know you are here.”

Raymond’s heart stumbled. “They know?”

“I told them this morning, when my security team flagged your name at the train station.”

He had not considered that she would know before he arrived. Of course she would know. She was not the tired woman in a collapsing shack anymore.

“Are they willing to see me?”