Chapter 4
275words
The reporters erupted in mocking laughter.
Charles's brow furrowed as he stared at me like I belonged in a straitjacket.
He towered over me, voice dripping with contempt. "Tonight at my grandfather's birthday celebration, you will stand up and ask for a divorce. Voluntarily."
"Skip it," he sneered, "and I promise every sordid detail from today hits the headlines tomorrow morning. What's left of your reputation will be ashes by noon."
Vivian snuggled deeper into his embrace, her smile that of a cat who'd just drowned the canary.
The reporters' cameras clicked frantically, immortalizing my humiliation for the masses to devour with their morning coffee.
"Your call."
Charles tossed the words at my feet like garbage before turning away, Vivian tucked possessively under his arm.
When they were gone, I collapsed against my mother's cold headstone, tears streaming unchecked down my face.
"Mom," I whispered, "this is what came of your dying wish—that I help the Kosters and build bridges between our families."
"This is how they repay your daughter. I'm done helping them. Done."
I sobbed until my throat was raw, emptying years of bottled grief onto the silent stone.
When the tears finally stopped, something else had dried up too—my capacity to feel pain.
I rose to my feet, spine straightening inch by inch.
The woman who stood at that grave was not the same one who had knelt there. In her eyes, pain had hardened into something far more dangerous—resolve.
