Chapter 3

The mourning hall was set up in the main hall of Sinclair Manor.

Not many people came to pay their respects, just grandma's old friends from over the years: retired business tycoons, former government officials, all dressed in black with white flowers pinned to their chests, faces heavy with grief.

Emily's shrill voice shattered the solemn atmosphere. "Charlotte, stop faking it! Evelyn's got the best luck.

"She wouldn't just die out of nowhere. Admit it, you teamed up with the hospital to pull this sympathy stunt, just to drag Alex back."

She stood smack in the center of the mourning hall, facing everyone with all the confidence in the world, like she owned the place.

I just stared at her, saying nothing.

Evelyn's photo was right there on the wall, black and white. The urn sat on the altar, plain as day; there was no denying the truth.

And Alex, my husband, stood right next to Emily, hands shoved in his suit pockets, looking at me like I was an inconvenience, sizing me up with obvious annoyance.

He didn't say a word, but his silence said it all; he was on her side.

Seeing I didn't say a word, Emily got even bolder.

She suddenly giggled, acting all cute and innocent, but there was something nasty behind it. That fake-sweet laugh made a few of the old folks look downright uncomfortable.

"If Charlie says Evelyn's gone, then that urn must be full of ashes, right?" she said.

As she spoke, she made her way straight toward the altar, not caring about anyone watching.

I stiffened all over.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Nothing," Emily replied.

She turned around and gave me an overly sweet, almost fake smile.

"I just want to see for myself. If Evelyn's really gone, why not send her off with a fireworks show, using her ashes? Imagine how stunning that would be, fireworks made from her remains."

Her words echoed in my mind.

That was the last straw. The final thread in my mind snapped.

Evelyn spent her whole life helping others through tough times, and now, barely gone, this woman wanted to disrespect her memory like it was nothing.

"Don't you dare!" I shouted.

I lunged at her.

But I was stopped.

Suddenly, a hand clamped down on my arm, the grip so strong it felt like my bones might break.

It was Alex.

He gripped my wrist so hard I couldn't move, holding me in place.

His icy voice was right in my ear. "Charlotte, stop making a scene."

Stop making a scene?

Me? Making a scene?

I turned my head, searching that annoyingly flawless face for any sign of caring or even a flicker of doubt.

But there was nothing, just cold indifference.

And a flicker of annoyance, like he was pissed I was ruining his mood.

While Alex was pinning me down, Emily had already picked up the urn from the altar, cradling it in her arms like she owned the place.

She even turned back and shot Alex a smug, sugary smile, like she was saying, "See? Aren't I just the best?"

Then, right in front of everyone, she lifted the lid off the urn.

"Stop!" I shouted.

I fought with everything I had, but Alex was like a statue; he didn't move an inch.

He just watched, cold and detached, as if none of this had anything to do with him.

Emily smiled, and with a careless flick of her wrist, she dumped everything that was left of my grandmother.

Her life, her struggles, and her pride went straight into the copper basin on the altar, right where the joss paper was burning.

The flames shot up instantly.

Ashes and bone fragments swirled in the heat, hit the ceiling, and scattered everywhere across the floor.

The whole room went dead silent.

Everyone stood rooted to the spot, stunned by what they'd just witnessed.

Suddenly, I stopped struggling.

I just stood there, letting Alex grip my arm, quiet and motionless.

Then I turned my head.

I looked at him with a gaze he'd never seen before, colder than ashes.

Alex's grip loosened.

It was as if something suddenly stung him.

I ignored him completely and didn't even glance at Emily.

With everyone watching, I pulled a manila folder from the inside pocket of my coat.

It was the document I spent three days and nights running between the Sinclair Group's legal department and the law firm to secure, with Evelyn's fingerprinted power of attorney, right before she passed.

I opened the folder, my voice quiet but clear enough for everyone to hear. "Alex, Emily, listen up."