The Billionaire’s Hidden Heiress

Grayson POV

"Don't touch me, get off me" she screamed, her voice hysterical, her body moving and flailing in the bed, her breathing shallow and panicked as she violently kicked out and punched.

"Ouch," I winced as her leg connected with my own and jumped hastily out of bed, turning the light on and hurrying to shake her shoulder.

She was wild, frantic, desperately trying to foist off an assailant that wasn't there. Her movements were frenzied and her nails were trying to desperately claw at me as I dodged and tried to wake her up. "Flair, Flair" I shouted, as she continued to wrestle "Flair, wake up. There's no one there, it's just a nightmare."

Turning the light on hadn't worked. It hadn't even halted her desperate fight. I winced as she clawed me in the arm. I raised my voice "Flair" and saw her body begin to stiffen, her nightgown drenched in sweat, her eyes slowly fluttering open, her eyes dazed and disorientated. "Grayson?" she whispered.

"Flair, it's me" I soothed, sitting on the edge of the bed as she looked around the room, her eyes widening as she slowly came back to her senses "It's just me."

I glanced at the bed and saw the sheets soaked with sweat. Night terrors. She was reliving the experience of that bastard Brady touching her. It broke my heart the way she flinched when I went to touch her or the way she would look wary when I went to. I swallowed hard as she looked at me, a picture of innocence as she slowly withdrew her hands and blinked, glancing down at them with shock. She glanced at my arm and saw the claw marks. "Did I?" she whispered.

"It's nothing," I said dismissively.

Her eyes shone and I knew she was near tears but doing her best to hide them. It was only the second night since she'd been back and she was struggling. She was meant to go to the salon with Rachel to get her hair done the next day.

"I'll start the shower," I told her quietly, as she nodded, looking miserable.

I got up, wearing my sweatpants, my upper half bare, and padded into the bathroom, starting the water and checking the temperature wasn't too hot. I turned around and almost walked into her.

"The water is hot" I warned and she nodded, already pulling her nightgown over her head.

I averted my gaze and quietly went back into the room, stripping the bedding off and placing it in the hamper, before heading out to the linen cupboard to get fresh sheets and pillowcases.

I made the bed and then paused. Flair was still in the shower but the door was wide open. I hesitated wondering whether I should check on her. The thought she might try to do something to herself was disturbing enough to get me to walk towards the doorway and peer in. My heart skipped a beat. She was still in the shower but she was sitting on the floor, on the tiles, her arms wrapped around her knees as she rocked back and forth, her hair covering her face. She looked, broken. There was no other way to describe it. The water cascaded over her and dripped to the floor, while she gazed at the ground, unaware I was watching her.

I inhaled sharply and then moved, silently opening the glass door, crouching down just outside as Flair blinked and slowly raised her head.

"Flair," I said softly "do you want to come out?"

Her lip quivered. "It hurts Grayson" she whispered as I looked at her confused.

She put a hand on her chest, where her heart was "It hurts here" she emphasized a little louder "Poor Myles is dead and I can't stop thinking about Brady and his hands on me" her voice cracked "and all I can see is the blood spurting out where I shot him" her voice broke and I saw a tear trail out of her eye. "Flair nobody blames you for doing what you did."

She looked at me, as though she was staring right through me. "I know" she whispered "but I blame myself. I didn't have to shoot him. I didn't have to and yet" she hiccuped "I chose to" she whispered "I took the gun and I shot him because I was angry."

I had no words. Nothing to say that would offer her any comfort. She wasn't finished "The images just keep flashing through my mind. Over and over again. Like a bad movie that's on a constant loop" she gave a bitter laugh "and no matter what I can't turn it off." "I think you need to see a counselor," I said quietly, still kneeling "I think you need to talk to somebody about this Flair." She clutched her head "I feel like I'm broken Grayson and there's no fixing me" She practically screamed the last part as I looked at her, my heart hurting "I broke me."

She dissolved into tears. It was gut-wrenching. I felt helpless. I couldn't make this go away. I couldn't fix this. I was useless. My wife was hurting and I couldn't do a damn thing to help her. I gritted my teeth. Something came over me. I glanced up at the water and then climbed into the shower, still clad in my sweatpants as Flair looked at me in disbelief. "You're in pain," I said, moving her so that she sat between my legs while I sat down, her head leaning against my chest "And you're hurting. I can't do much" I told her, my voice filled with my own pain "but I can hold you and I can comfort you, even if it means getting wet."

She sobbed, leaning into me while I held her, the water cascading down on both of us, my body getting drenched within seconds. I felt her body, pressing against me, trembling as she let loose all the emotions she'd been trying to hold in, until

now.

"Let it out" I whispered, as she clutched me "Stop trying to hold everything in. Cry" I said firmly "Scream if you want."

She broke. She cried. She sobbed. She held on tight to me as though afraid to let go. The water continued to run. My pants were drenched. I didn't care. All I could think about was her. How she needed me. Not to be strong or to do anything but just to hold her in that moment. To let her know it was okay to feel.

Time passed. Her sobs slowed to a mere trickle. She sniffed, her eyes red and puffy. She looked exhausted and pale. She yawned. I gently dislodged her and stood up, turning the water off. I took off my pants and stepped out of them as she watched, wrapping a towel around my waist and then grabbing another one, wrapping her gently in it, and picking her up off the floor as she nestled in against me.

"I'm sorry" she murmured drowsily.

"You have nothing to be sorry for" I whispered back, kissing her tenderly on the forehead.

I placed her on the bed and she rolled over, the towel coming free. She was struggling to keep her eyes open now. Letting loose all of her emotions and letting me see them raw like that, had exhausted her beyond her limits. Her eyes began to flutter closed against her will. I pressed my lips against her temple.

"Go to sleep" I urged as she moved restlessly "I'm right here" I promised, taking off my towel and climbing into bed. I slowly put my arm around her, uncertain if she would accept it this time. Sometimes she did and other times she flinched. This time she relaxed against me and I pressed into her, listening to the sound of her breathing as it evened out and her soft snores filled the room. She sounded peaceful. I stroked her hair. If I could have taken the pain or the fear away from her I would have done it in a heartbeat. I had told her I loved her but we still hadn't gone beyond that in our relationship. I didn't know what I wanted anymore. The company had always been my end goal. It had always been at the forefront of my mind. The notion of Charlotte getting her greedy hands on it, of ruining it like she ruined everything she touched, filled me with revulsion, and yet, as I glanced down at Flair resting beside me on the bed, I couldn't help but wonder if my priorities were beginning to change.

The employees at the company relied on their jobs. If I didn't get the company, the odds of them keeping their positions were practically nil. Charlotte would only want the money the company would bring her. She saw no value in the company itself. She would also do anything to get her hands on it. But was I any better? I loved my wife, but was I willing to let the company go for her sake? The thought filled me with fear. Could I be wholly responsible for so many people losing their livelihoods? I could discuss this with Flair but would she think I was manipulating her if I discussed it with her? She already had enough on her plate, this would only cause more stress for her. Damn the stipulations my Grandfather had put in place, I thought bitterly, if he had but known what misery it was going to bring, or foreseen the results of such a foolish decision, maybe he wouldn't have been so eager to put them there.

I closed my eyes and hoped Flair would sleep for the rest of the night. Poor Roscoe had gone yelping out of the bedroom as her nightmare began and as I settled against her, I heard his footsteps come padding back into the room and felt his head nudge my leg as he settled back on the bed with a small whine. "Grayson" Flair murmured drowsily and I gripped her tighter, wishing she would never leave me.

If only wishes would come true but then wishes are called wishes for a reason, aren't they?