Chapter 2
It was raining in Northbridge the day we buried Evelyn.
I held the black urn in my arms, the ashes of my grandmother, a woman who started with nothing but a ten-square-meter shack and built it into a billion-dollar empire. Now, all that was left of her fit in the palm of my hand.
Back at the empty Sinclair Manor, I had placed the urn on the altar in the center of the mourning hall when Alex arrived.
He was dressed in a crisp gray suit, his hair perfectly styled. He was undeniably handsome, but his expression was cold and displeased.
He probably resented having to make the trip for me.
He wasn't alone.
Emily was with him.
She had her arm linked with Alex's, her big round eyes darting around the living room draped in white. Honestly, she looked like she was touring a model home instead of standing in a mourning hall.
"Charlie, I'm back," Alex said.
His voice was as gentle as ever, but there was that subtle superiority, like he was born thinking he was better than everyone else.
He really acted like just showing up was some huge favor to me.
I didn't even look at him.
"Alex, let's get divorced," I said.
The living room went dead silent.
Alex's gentle expression faded, replaced by a patronizing helplessness, like he was looking at a child throwing a tantrum.
"Charlotte, stop making a scene. I know you're upset I didn't make it back, but trying to force me like this is pointless," he said.
He reached for me, trying to pull me closer.
I sidestepped him, slipping out of his reach.
"Grandma's gone," I said.
I held the urn, telling him, every word slow and deliberate. "She never got to see you."
Alex's frown tightened, impatience practically spilling out of his eyes.
"Charlotte, are you seriously making up stuff just to get me back?" he said.
He didn't believe me.
Of course he didn't.
To him, I'd always be the kind of woman who'd give up all her dignity just to see him smile.
"See, Alex? I told you Charlotte was totally lying to you," Emily chimed in, her tone sugary sweet but sharp as glass.
She added, "Even at her age, Evelyn's out there doing exercises every day. She's practically healthier than all of us. How could she just die out of nowhere?
"Come on, Charlie. Using your own grandma just to get Alex to come home? That's seriously messed up."
As she spoke, she gave me a sidelong glance, her lips barely twitching into a smirk.
I locked my gaze on her, daring her to look away.
A storm of emotions churned in my chest, something I couldn't even name.
I waited for Alex to say something.
Even if he just said, "That's enough."
But he didn't.
He just stood there in silence next to Emily, even giving her hand a reassuring pat, then turned to me with that patronizing tone, like he was tossing me a bone.
"Charlotte, if you're done with your drama, come with me. Don't make a fool of yourself in front of Emmy," he said.
In that moment, the string I'd kept wound tight in my chest for three years finally snapped.
It wasn't something you could hear.
It was like everything inside me turned to ashes.
A bitter laugh escaped me.
Holding the cold urn in my arms, I laughed, tears streaming down my face.
Turned out that my grandmother's death and the pain that kept me awake for three days straight meant nothing to them. To Alex and Emily, it was just some ridiculous love triangle drama.
My laughter stunned them both, leaving them speechless.
I stopped laughing and fixed him with a look so cold and lifeless, like dead water, something they'd never seen from me before.
"The mourning hall will be set up here tomorrow. Grandma will be waiting for you to pay your respects," I said.