James came back to the Mitchell residence around noon the next day.
As soon as he stepped in, Grace rushed over to meet him.
“James, what happened last night? Is your hand still hurting?” She looked at him with concern.
“I'm fine.” James replied casually, like it wasn't a big deal.
Things were still unclear, and for now, he had to keep Grace around. If he acted too obvious, she might catch on and bolt.
“James, you don't even know—you got drunk last night and totally lost control. You pushed me so hard, I landed on the floor. My back's still killing me!” Grace said in her sweetest, most pitiful voice, looking at him like she was about to cry.
James stared at her, his eyes darkening. If it were the old him, he probably would've fallen for that poor-me act again.
“I was
