Regret Came Too Late (Grace and Ethan) novel Chapter 477

Andrea had been cremated and buried that very night. Liam had even placed the dog tooth along with her, as if this small act was a way to ease his guilt, if only slightly.

Grace walked through the graveyard, then laid the bouquet she had brought at the base of a simple gravestone. There was no inscription, just a photograph.

Without another word, she turned to leave.

Liam sat off to the side and smoked. It took him a few moments to gather himself before he finally said, "Grace… there's something else I want to tell you."

Sebastian's call had given him a fleeting burst of courage, but now, with Andrea's gravestone in front of him and under the weight of Grace's gaze, that courage scattered like ash.

He had now become the very person Grace despised—weak, disappointing, and easily swayed.

If he said what he suspected about Joanne, would she think that he was trying to deflect blame? She barely trusted him as it was. This might be the final thread snapping.

He looked down, took a deep drag of his cigarette, and exhaled slowly.

"You're not really a Lambert by blood," he said quietly. "When I went to the old medicine practitioner, I found a gravestone… The real one, with my sister's name on it. After Dad took her to the countryside, the one who came back wasn't her but you."

He paused for a second before continuing, "I don't know what happened in between. But Dad's gone, and when I tried to ask Mom… She knew nothing. I kept it from her. I thought maybe… I could help you remember who you really are."

Grace didn't stop walking. She merely gave a quiet, noncommittal hum.

Liam's chest tightened at her indifference. Of course. What else had he expected?

She resented him now.

He still had yet to mention Joanne. He was terrified that even the slightest hope she had for him would vanish if he ever brought it up. After all, it was only a suspicion.

He remained there silently, gazing at Andrea's gravestone long after Grace had departed. A collection of cigarette butts littered the ground, evidence of his relentless night.

He was only 20 years old, barely an adult. Yet he felt like the years were stretching out before him, devoid of anything worth desiring.

Grace drove off without looking back.

She had long held the suspicion that she wasn't actually a Lambert. After all, Carmen had always treated her with too much cruelty, and Quentin's attitude had been far too... complicated.

It wasn't a complete lack of care. It was more like there had been a deep conflict raging within him. He had seemed to wish her happiness, yet he couldn't bear the thought of her thriving too much. The affection he showed was genuine, but it was undeniably compounded with more complex emotions.

Liam's words had clarified everything, stripping back layers of suspicion.

She truly wasn't a Lambert.

However, if that was the case, who was she?

Without further hesitation, she drove straight to Lambert Group to demand an explanation from Sebastian. "You knew I wasn't biologically part of the Lambert family, didn't you?"

"Ms. Lambert, your last name hardly matters," he said calmly. "The company has already been restructured under your leadership. Everyone here supports you now. No one cares whose daughter you are."

The implication was obvious—if she wanted it, the company was hers, regardless of blood.

Grace's gaze lingered on him for a few seconds. Then, in a serious tone, she asked again, "Are you sure my dad never said anything to you?"

If Quentin had orchestrated all this, it was improbable that he never uttered even a word to his most trusted ally.

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