It was raining when I stepped into the old Royce estate. Fitting. Everything about that place always felt cold and heavy, like the walls were built from unfinished grief.
I hadn’t seen my father in over a year. Not really. Not since the layers started peeling off the lies like old wallpaper. He looked older now, sitting behind his polished desk like a relic trying to outlive time. Still in that pressed charcoal suit, like power clung to him better than love ever did.
He didn’t stand. Didn’t smile. Just tilted his head and said, “I was wondering when you’d crawl back.”
I didn’t sit. “I didn’t come to crawl. I came to burn what’s left.”
His lip curled, just a little. That smug, familiar twist that used to make me feel small. It doesn’t anymore.
“You’ve made quite the mess,” he said. “Winston dead. Alina in prison. And now you come here parading around like some… mafia bride. Is that what this is, Scarlett? A performance?”
“No,” I said. “This is the finale.”
He scoffed. “You always had a flair for dramatics. Your sister-”
“Stop calling her that.”
“She’s still your blood.”
“No. She’s yours.” I walked closer, slow and steady. “She drugged me. Sold me. Let Winston torture me like it was a game. And you knew. You always knew.” He had the audacity to look annoyed. “Oh don’t be so theatrical. You and her were always at each other’s throats. Don’t act surprised this all spiraled.” “Spiraled?” I let out a breath of bitter laughter. “She tried to have me killed, and you’re sitting there talking like this was a sibling squabble.”
His eyes narrowed. “You think this is how you fix things? Wipe your hands clean and pretend you’re some victim? You’ve always been the selfish one, Scarlett. Always needed more. Needed louder.”
There it was. That final card. Blame. Gaslight. Dismiss. Same old deck he always played from.
I smiled. Not sweet. Not broken. Just… done.
12:31 Mon, 19 May GM •
“You don’t have to worry, Paul. I’m not your daughter anymore.”
He blinked.
“I’m what you feared I’d become,” I said quietly, calmly. “Free.”
I turned and walked away without looking back.
77%
Let him drown in his legacy of hollow words. I had fire now. And it wasn’t his to
name.
A week later, Zacharias drove me out of the city in his matte black Aston.
He didn’t say much on the way. Just let his hand rest against my thigh as the countryside blurred past the windows. The silence wasn’t heavy. It was warm. Anchoring.
We stopped at a little hillside cemetery near a cliff. My mother’s grave was beneath a crooked tree, tucked into the shade like she’d always wanted to be left in peace.
I brought lilies. Her favorite. White, strong, graceful.
Zacharias stood a few steps behind me, watching, but not intruding. He knew this wasn’t his moment. He just made it safe enough for me to have it.
I knelt beside the grave, brushing wet leaves off the stone.
“Hey, Mom,” I whispered. “I made it. I survived.”
The wind moved through the grass like breath.
“I’m not perfect. I’m not soft like you. But I’m still yours. I still hear your voice when it gets quiet.” My throat clenched. “You told me once that pain was proof we were still alive. That love was what we chose to keep breathing for.”
-L–glanced back at Zacharias. He wasn’t watching me. He was watching the sky,
like he knew I needed the illusion of privacy but wouldn’t let me fall alone.
I turned back.
“I’m loved now,” I said softly. “Fully. Fiercely. In the way you used to say I deserved but never believed.”
I laid the lilies down. One for her. One for me. One for everything we lost and still found a way to carry.
When I stood, Zacharias came forward, silent. He tucked a single lily into my braid, his fingers brushing my cheek.
“You look like her when you’re not pretending to be unbreakable,” he
Chapter 26
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12-31 Mon, 19 May G
murmured.
“I’m not pretending anymore,” I said.
He nodded. “Good. Then let’s go.”
77%
We walked back to the car. No more ghosts. No more ashes. Just the road ahead.
And I wasn’t looking back.
