Chapter 6

I rushed to the cemetery, my heart pounding with a nameless dread. When I arrived, I saw it. The fresh earth of my grandmother's grave was torn up. Two workmen were standing over it with shovels.

"What are you doing?" I screamed, running toward them. "Stop it! Get away from her!"

They ignored me, continuing to dig.

Then I saw her. Diana. She was standing a few feet away, a smug, triumphant smile on her face.

"What is the meaning of this?" I demanded, my voice shaking with rage.

"Oh, this?" she said, gesturing to the desecrated grave. "Arthur sold me the plot. He said it was the best one in the whole cemetery, with the best view. I thought it would be the perfect place for Gavin."

My blood ran cold. He had sold my grandmother's grave.

"You can't do this," I whispered, horrified.

"I can," she sneered. "And I am. You see, Ella, you don't matter. Your grandmother doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is what I want. And what Arthur wants to give me."

She turned to the workmen. "Hurry up! I want this trash cleared out by noon."

I launched myself at them, trying to shield the grave with my body. "Stop! You can't!"

One of the workmen shoved me hard. I fell backward, landing heavily on the ground.

Diana chose that moment to feign a stumble, letting out a theatrical cry of pain. "Aah! My ankle! Ella, why did you push me?"

Right on cue, Arthur's car screeched to a halt at the cemetery gates. He ran toward us, his face a thundercloud of fury. He went straight to Diana, helping her up, his touch gentle and concerned.

"She pushed me, Arthur," Diana sobbed into his chest. "I was just trying to talk to her, and she pushed me."

He turned on me, his eyes blazing. "You have gone too far, Ella."

"She's lying! I didn't touch her! They're digging up my grandmother's grave!"

"I know," he said, his voice chillingly calm. "I gave the order."

I stared at him, my mind reeling. "You... what?"

"Diana deserves the best," he said, stroking her hair. "Gavin deserves the best. Your grandmother can be moved to a more... modest location."

Diana looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent. "Oh, Arthur, are you sure? Maybe we shouldn't. Ella is so upset."

"She'll get over it," he said dismissively. "The move is happening."

"You promised," I croaked, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. "You promised you'd give her the best."

His face darkened with anger at my reminder. "And I would have, if you weren't being such an ungrateful, hysterical bitch. But your behavior has changed my mind. She gets a standard plot. And you should be grateful for that."

One of the workmen grunted, lifting something from the hole. It was the small, sealed box containing my grandmother's ashes.

"What are you doing with that?" I shrieked, scrambling to my feet. "Where are you taking her?"

"That's none of your concern," Arthur said coldly.

"Please," I begged, the last of my pride crumbling to dust. "Please, Arthur, just give her back to me. I'll do anything. I'll leave. I'll disappear. You'll never see me again. Just let me have my grandmother's ashes."

He looked at me, a cruel, calculating light in his eyes. He was enjoying this. He was enjoying my pain.

"Ask her," he said, nodding toward Diana. "It's her plot now. Her decision."

I turned to Diana, my heart shriveling in my chest. I was begging the woman who had orchestrated my grandmother's death for her remains.

She smiled, a slow, venomous smile. "On one condition," she said.

"Anything."

"Get on your knees," she commanded. "Kowtow to me. Apologize for upsetting me. Apologize for existing."

I didn't hesitate. I dropped to my knees on the cold, damp earth. The humiliation was a physical pain, but it was nothing compared to the thought of losing my grandmother forever.

I pressed my forehead to the ground. "I'm sorry," I choked out, the words tasting like dirt and tears.

"Louder," she said, her voice dripping with pleasure. "And I want to hear your head hit the ground. I want to know you mean it."

I slammed my forehead against the earth again and again, the dull thud echoing in the silent cemetery. Pain exploded behind my eyes, but I kept going, fueled by a desperate, all-consuming love for the woman in the box.

"Please," I sobbed, my forehead raw and bleeding. "Please, just give her back."

Diana laughed, a high, cruel sound. She took the box from the workman. "Okay," she said sweetly. "You can have her."

She held the box out to me. As I reached for it, my hands trembling with relief, her fingers loosened.

The box fell.

It hit the ground with a sickening crack. The lid burst open, and my grandmother's ashes, her last physical presence on this earth, spilled onto the mud. A gust of wind caught them, scattering them into the air, into the dirt, gone forever.

Diana gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in mock horror. "Oops. So clumsy of me. It must have slipped."