"Ma''am."
A man''s familiar voice echoed through the haze of her mind. M blinked, her
eyelids heavy, her vision flooded with harsh, sterile white. The curtains fluttered in the gentle breeze.
She was lying in a hospital bed.
Slowly, M sat upright, ncing around. No one was there. The room was silent but for her own breathing, and her memories began to drift back.
It all came flooding in.
She and Lysander had gone to that party.
Then-gunshots.
Her fingers tightened, clutching the crisp white sheets, twisting them into creases. She remembered—so much blood. No matter how desperately she pressed, nothing could stop it. The body beneath her trembling hands had gone cold, growing steadily, impossibly cold.
Suddenly, the door swung open.
"Ma''am, you''re awake."
Leonard hurried in, catching sight of her sitting on the bed, dazed and silent. He rushed closer, concern etching his features. "Are you feeling any pain? Is there anything wrong?"
He pressed the call button for the nurse.
M shook her head, slow and deliberate.
It was strange. She didn''t seem to feel anything-not pain, not sorrow, not even relief. Mostly, it was a hollow, surreal detachment, as if everything she saw and heard was muffled by an invisibleyer of water.
Everything was blurred.
Wait-right before she lost consciousness, she''d seen Francis, and Leonard... Did they make it? Were they safe?
She tried to speak, to ask.
"Ah..."
But only a broken, breathless sound escaped her lips. M froze, shock rooting her in ce. It took her a long moment to realize—she couldn''t talk. No sound woulde out.
Her chest tightened with frustration.
Leonard noticed something was wrong. Forgetting the call button, he dashed out, returning momentster with a doctor in tow.
After a quick examination, the doctor shook his head. "This is a case of psychological muteness. Medication won''t help. Only time and her own mind- can resolve it. Try to keep her emotions steady. Let things run their course, and she''ll likely recover."
Once the doctor left, silence settled over the room.
At first, M had panicked, but now a strange sense of calm had taken over. She suppressed the instinct to speak and gestured for her phone. With trembling fingers, she typed a message for Leonard.
*How is he?*
Leonard''s face grew taut, his expression unreadable.
A gust of wind caught the curtains, sending them billowing against the white- washed walls. It was a long time before Leonard finally found his voice, hoarse and strained. "Ma''am, I''m sorry. He... he''s gone."
*Gone?*
Leonard turned away, unable to meet M''s nk, searching gaze. His fists clenched at his sides. "The funeral... it''s in a few days."
Funeral?
So, he was dead?
Really dead?
She sat there, numb, as a wave of exhaustion crept up from her heart, spreading through her limbs, dragging her down until she copsed back onto the bed. Her eyes stared nkly up at the ceiling, its whiteness blinding.
He''s gone.
The innocent confusion on M''s face felt like a knife to Leonard''s heart. He crouched down beside the bed, gripping the edge so tightly his knuckles turned white, fighting the to pull her into his arms. His
when it came, was raw and
broken.
"If you''re hurting, ma''am, it''s okay to cry. Don''t hold it in."
Don''t look like that.
But why should she be sad? That man-always pushing her, deceiving her, using her, hurting her... arrogant, untouchable, ruthless. He was gone.
Why should she grieve?
She didn''t feel sad. She didn''t feel happy. She felt... nothing at all. Or maybe not nothing-just bone-deep exhaustion. She was so, so tired.
She just wanted to rest.
A few dayster.
M stood in the funeral home, d in a simple ck dress. She cradled a pale marble urn in her hands, face expressionless, eyes as empty and still as a winterke.
And yet, inside, she couldn''t help reflecting:
No matter how powerful, how privileged, how brilliant a person was in the end, everyone ended up the same. Just a handful of ashes, indistinguishable from anyone else.
Still...
She typed out a message on her phone and showed it to Leonard, who hovered
at her side: *Why so soon? Wasn''t the body supposed to be kept for a few days first?*
It all felt so rushed.
The incident in Rome had happened only days ago. She''d woken up back in her home country, Leonard exining that they''d left in such a hurry because Cossio might still be after them. They''d flown back by helicopter, faster than she couldprehend.
She''d only just been discharged from the hospital today. She''d expected, at least,
to see Lysander onest time—but he''d already been cremated.
"It was his father''s decision," Leonard exined quietly. "He wanted everything finished before you even knew, to get it over with as quickly as possible."
M pressed her lips together.
Right. Felicity still had no idea what had happened. She wouldn''t be at the funeral. But how long could they really keep something this big a secret? After all, Lysander was her son.
But... there was no other way.
With a silent sigh, M turned, holding the marble urn tight to her chest, and strode out of the funeral home, the hem of her ck dress trailing behind her.
She barely stepped outside before she was blinded by a wall of camera shes. M flinched, instinctively shielding the urn in her arms. Anger red in her chest -how could the media be so shameless, crowding the front of a funeral home like vultures?
"Miss Harvey, is it true you and Chairman Montgomery have been married for seven years?"
"Just recently, there was that incident at the wedding in Sicily. Both you and Chairman Montgomery were seen there. Is it true Chairman Montgomery was trying to rescue his kidnapped wife? Was that you?"
"Miss Harvey, care toment? Why did Chairman Montgomery keep his marriage a secret for so long?"
"There have been rumors about the Harvey family and an illegitimate daughter scandal. Chairman Montgomery was said to have
supported the family with a
share transfer as a public show of affection. Was he cheating during
your marriage? How do you respond to that?"