Chapter 5

The day of the funeral was gray and cold. A persistent drizzle fell from the sky, soaking the graveyard in a blanket of sorrow. I stood before my father's grave, dressed in black, a single white rose in my hand.

The rain dripped from the petals onto the polished granite of the headstone. A tear slipped down my cheek, then another, mingling with the raindrops. I was alone. No one else from our family had come.

A sudden gust of wind tore the umbrella from my numb fingers, sending it skittering across the wet grass. I didn't bother to retrieve it. I let the cold rain plaster my hair to my scalp, seep through my thin dress, chilling me to the bone. It was nothing compared to the coldness inside me.

I remembered my father teaching me how to ride a bike in the park, his strong hands guiding me. I remembered him staying up all night to help me with a school project, his patient smile never wavering. I never got to say goodbye.

My body trembled, a wracking shudder that started in my soul. I sank to my knees in the mud, the grief a physical weight pressing down on me.

"Aaliyah."

The voice was soft, but it made me flinch. A large black umbrella appeared over my head, shielding me from the downpour. Case.

He knelt beside me, his expensive suit now splattered with mud. "You shouldn't be out here in the rain," he said, his voice laced with false concern.

I looked at him, at the man who had murdered my father and stood here now pretending to mourn him. "Why are you here, Case?"

His phone buzzed. He glanced at it, and for a fleeting moment, his expression softened into a genuine tenderness that was never, ever for me. It was for Blair.

"I have to go," he said, standing up. "Blair isn't feeling well. The hospital called."

The irony was so thick I could choke on it. "Blair isn't feeling well," I repeated, my voice flat. "My father is dead, Case. Dead. Because you pulled his doctors away for her fake fucking headache."

A sharp, coppery taste filled my mouth. I doubled over, a violent cough racking my body, and spat a mouthful of blood onto the pristine white rose.

The cancer. The tumor was a relentless, ticking clock.

I finally understood. He'd never loved me. He'd never cared. It was always about revenge for Blair. Always about destroying me and everything I held dear.

"I'm coming, Dad," I whispered to the grave, a strange sense of peace settling over me. "I'm coming."

I stumbled away from the cemetery, my body screaming in protest. I needed my medication. I hailed a cab and went back to the only place I could: the hospital.

As I walked down the eerily quiet corridor toward the pharmacy, I heard voices from an empty waiting room. Blair and her assistant.

"Did you get it?" Blair asked, her voice impatient.

"Yes, Ms. Kelley," the assistant replied. "The crematorium was very cooperative after Mr. Stevens made the call. Here are the... ashes."

My heart stopped.

Blair laughed, a high, cruel sound. "Excellent. I have the perfect piece in mind. 'Generative art,' they call it. I'll mix his ashes into the paint medium. He'll be immortalized in my masterpiece. A final tribute from the woman who destroyed his daughter. I wonder what face Aaliyah will make when she sees it."

Someone gasped. I realized it was me. They turned, their eyes widening in shock as they saw me standing in the doorway.

Case appeared just then, rushing toward them. "Blair! Are you okay?"

He saw me, saw the look on my face. He put two and two together.

"Aaliyah," he said, his voice a low warning.

I just stared at him, a pale, broken smile spreading across my lips. He didn't deny it. He didn't even try.

"Let's go, Aaliyah," he said, taking my arm. "I'm taking you to a party. Blair's art exhibit opening."

He dragged me away, my mind screaming, my body a vessel of pure, silent horror. He was taking me to see my father's desecrated remains displayed as a trophy.