Chapter 9 - The Mother's Grief
On Saturday, the sky was a brilliant, painful blue.
I stood alone in a quiet cemetery on the outskirts of the city.
The plot was small, shaded by an old oak tree, far away from the ostentatious Vance family mausoleum.
I knelt down, placing Lily’s white urn into the earth.
There were no cameras, no socialites, no champagne glasses.
Just me, Raymond, and the priest.
“She was a fighter,” Raymond said softly, standing behind me with a bouquet of lilies.
“She shouldn’t have had to fight,” I whispered, pressing my hand against the warm dirt.
My chest felt hollow, scooped out by a spoon.
The anger that had fueled me for the past five days was suddenly gone, leaving only the crushing reality of her absence.
I cried.
For the first time since the hospital, I let the tears fall, soaking into the soil.
I didn’t care about the money, the empire, or the revenge.
I just wanted my baby back.
“You did right by her, Vivian,” Raymond placed a hand on my shoulder.
“I destroyed him,” I choked out, wiping my face.
“He destroyed himself,” Raymond corrected gently. “You just handed him the match.”
May you like
I stood up, brushing the dirt from my black dress.
It was time to finish this.
