Chapter 5
William had changed. He wasn’t the man I used to know. He’d become ruthless, a stone cold businessman who never took No for an answer.
The staff member slumped against the wall, a hint of a mocking smile tugging at his lips.
“Mr. Miller, I’m sorry, but we really don’t have Ms. Brown’s ashes. What we gave you was all of them. You’re the one who knocked them over
“If you keep pushing it, we’ll have to call the police.”
For a moment, William just stood there, stunned. It seemed to hit him, finally–that he had already scattered my ashes.
hands dropped, and he staggered out of the crematorium, his steps shaky.
I glanced back at the poor staff member, feeling sorry for him, before my body–no longer under my control–followed William back out into the cold empty night.
The night was thick, wrapping everything in darkness. William Miller’s face was barely visible in the dim light as we left the crematorum. He hadn’t said a word since, and the car remained silent, almost stifling. Even though I knew he couldn’t see me, I still felt uneasy, like I was walking on sals.
The car finally came to a stop, and William turned off the engine. He leaned back in the seat, his dark eyes fixated on the blackness outside the window. He didn’t move. He just sat there, staring into the void, for what felt like forever.
Dawn broke slowly, the first light creeping up on the horizon. William, who hadn’t slept all night, now had deep shadows under his eyes, and I noticed the red veins streaking across his tired gaze. I hesitated for a moment, then reached out to touch his face. His skin was cool to the touch, but it was the
tear stains that shocked me.
He had cried, and I hadn’t even noticed.
My fingers recoiled as though burned, trembling as I pulled them back. For a moment, a twisted smile tugged at my lips.
Perhaps he wasn’t grieving; maybe he was crying tears of joy. After all, his enemy was dead. That would make sense, wouldn’t it?
Today was the anniversary of Mrs. Miller’s death. For the past two years on this day, William would storm into the house, dragging me out to the car without a word. He’d take me straight to her grave and force me to kneel there, not for an hour, not even for a few hours, but for an entire day and night
Kneeling wasn’t enough, though. I had to bow, apologize, beg for forgiveness. By the time it was over, I could barely stand, and my forehead wonde rw, smeared with blood. But William? He was always satisfied, telling me that I deserved every bit of it.
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He even used to say that after I died, I’d rot in hell for eternity, unable to find peace.
Turns out, he was right. I didn’t even make it to hell.
This year, there were only two people left standing at Mrs. Miller’s grave: William Miller and Isabella Miller.
The sight of Isabella Miller always made me tremble uncontrollably. She was the one responsible for William’s mother’s death, and yet, here he was tenderly brushing a strand of hair away from her face, his touch so gentle it was almost unbearable to watch.
Isabella knelt before the grave, her expression full of sorrow.
“Mom, William and I came to see you. Oh, and Olivia Brown–she’s dead. You can rest easy now.”
William, crouched next to the gravestone, wiped away the dirt and smudges with calm precision. His face betrayed nothing
“Mom, there’s more good news. I’m going to marry Isabella,” he said evenly. “She’s the one you practically raised. I bet you’d be happy about that, wouldn’t you?” His voice was soft, almost wistful.
“As for Olivia Brown…” His voice dropped to a murmur. “Mom, I regret it.”
14:25
