Chapter 4

Days passed in this suffocating silence.

I searched Cynthia's room when she wasn't around, but there was still no sign of the ashes.

Until my birthday.

Arthur knocked on my door.

"I pushed back the board meeting tonight. I'm taking you to that Michelin-starred restaurant in Manhattan you love," he said. Then, as if afraid I would refuse, he added, "Just the two of us. Not them."

I nodded. "Okay."

He let out a long breath, as if a thousand-pound weight had been lifted off his chest, and turned to change his clothes.

That evening, Arthur drove us to Manhattan himself.

When the appetizers arrived, he personally cut a piece of Wagyu beef and placed it on my plate.

"Eileen, do you still love me?"

I ignored him, looking down to sip my sparkling wine, missing the dangerous, dark glint in his eyes.

After dinner, Arthur signed the bill, and we walked out.

He didn't drive back toward the estate. Instead, he took the road leading to the most secluded cliffside coast on the island.

I knew this road too well.

Twenty years ago, we used to sneak away from our bodyguards to come here.

When I was seventeen, right by the highest cliffside rock, he kissed me for the first time.

He had said, "Eileen, when I take over the Group, I'll marry you."

He had said, "I'll treat you well for the rest of my life. I'll never be like the scum in our circle."

He had said, "There will only ever be one Mrs. Sterling in this lifetime."

I believed it all.

But now, walking along this familiar coastline, listening to the roar of the waves crashing against the rocks, my stomach churned violently.

In the distance, I saw the massive rock.

Three people stood beneath it.

Cynthia, Lucas, and Chloe.

Cynthia was holding two heavy brass urns.

The urns were engraved with intricate patterns, their edges slightly oxidized.

My breathing stopped.

The roar of the ocean faded. All I could hear was the sound of my own heart slamming against my ribs. It felt like it was going to burst out of my chest.

"Mom, look!" Chloe waved happily. "Cynthia brought your parents' ashes!"

I shoved the car door open and stumbled forward, my eyes locked onto those two brass boxes.

As I got closer, I saw it clearly.

My parents' names were engraved on the lids.

Just as I lunged forward to snatch them back, Arthur's arms clamped around my waist from behind like a vice.

"Eileen, I went through so much trouble to save your parents' ashes from the creditors back then. I planned to give them back to you so they could rest in peace once you came back from Switzerland and got better."

"As long as you love me like you used to, and stop thinking about leaving me," he whispered right against my ear, his voice sickeningly gentle, "I'll give them back to you."

I whipped my head around and glared at him.

"Arthur Sterling, my parents treated you like their own son! How could you use their ashes to blackmail me?!"

He had kept them hostage for three whole years.

"Mom, what are you talking about?" Lucas frowned, impatient. "When your parents went bankrupt, if Dad hadn't stepped in, they wouldn't even have this much dignity left. Dad is doing this for your own good. He was afraid seeing their ashes would make your condition worse."

"Exactly," Chloe chimed in. "Mom, Dad is just trying to protect you. Why are you being so ungrateful?"

I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing, tears smashing down my cheeks.

These were the heirs I carried for nine months, the ones I nearly died on the operating table to bring into the world! These were the grandchildren my parents had loved so dearly!

"Give. Them. Back."

I stared at Arthur, throwing each word at him like a stone.

"Do you still want to sign the divorce papers? Do you still want to leave me?" he asked, his arms tightening around me.

"Arthur, the biggest regret of my life is meeting you, and giving birth to these two heartless monsters."

His eyes cooled inch by inch, freezing over completely.

"Eileen, I gave you a chance. You threw it away."

He looked at Cynthia.

"Throw them in the ocean."

"No!"

I screamed and lunged forward, but Arthur pinned me against his chest.

"Let me go! Arthur, you animal, let me go!"

I struggled wildly, biting and tearing at him, but he stood immovable.

"Since you don't have me in your heart," he looked into my eyes, his voice utterly ruthless, "then hate me. Hate is still an emotion. It's better than you treating me like a dead man."

I gathered every ounce of strength in my body and sank my teeth viciously into his neck, right over the artery.

As he grunted in excruciating pain and his grip loosened for a fraction of a second, I lunged toward the brass urns like a cornered beast.

Amidst their horrified screams, I snatched the urns to my chest and plummeted into the violent, freezing depths of the Atlantic Ocean.