CHAPTER TWO

ISLA

The words sounded foreign. Funeral.  I was now a dead person to the world.

Six years of playing politics, six years of being by his side, of controlling media narratives just for him had gone down the drain. 

I pulled out the needles inserted into my veins and ripped them off. My face paled from the pain but I had known worse pains.  

Zayne didn't react, he stood there, expressionless. Almost like he was just a bot controlled from an alien universe. 

“Take me to my funeral” I said, stepping down the bed. The world tilted, my head throbbing from suddenly standing. 

His face darkened. 

Finally, a reaction. 

“ Sit. I didn't save you to let you die” he said, his voice tight. 

I hissed, then steadied my body. My legs wobbled a bit, almost like I had forgotten to walk. 

“ Take me to the funeral. I want to see …” 

“ Your husband” he completed, “ to feed yourself lies you know aren't true” 

I snapped my eyes shut, my throat bobbing up and down. He was right. I wanted to believe I was overthinking it. I wanted to believe that my husband was being framed. 

“ If he signed a DNR, then why did the doctor still save me? Why didn't I die?” I asked, brows gathered. 

Stupid. I knew they were stupid excuses but my emotions justified it. 

“ He wanted you dead. I didn't” he dropped then turned away, “ rest, losing a loved one is already enough pain” he added, an edge to his voice. 

I paused from the meaning behind his words. 

He didn't?

Who was he? Why would he save me?

I walked towards him, not giving up. I wanted to take a look at the man I had called my husband for six years. I wanted to see what my funeral would look like. 

“I already lost a loved one” my voice cracked. The emptiness in my stomach was a constant reminder, “what other pain could hurt than that?” 

“ knowing you are all alone” 

My throat tightened. Eyes reddening. It was like I had been punched in the gut. I hadn't thought of that. 

For an orphan, I was really alone. 

The doctor walked in with a file in his hands and his eyes widened. Hands raising pointing at me like he just saw a ghost..

“ What…. Why are you standing?” 

“ Going to attend my funeral.” I dropped, gaze fixed on Zayne, who had already left the ward.

I immediately followed. I didn't know what came over me but I somewhat felt that the funeral would give me the closure I desperately needed. 

“Please ma'am, you just had a miscarriage, your body is still in shock, if you don't rest, you might have a traumatic shock” the doctor blabbed but i didn't stop. 

I followed Zayne while noticing the hospital’s decor. I could tell I was in a VIP ward. No nurses. No patients. Just me.

The doctor resorted to other means. 

“ Mr Zayne, please you need to understand that Mrs Rivers health can be easily compromised. She is in no condition to leave” 

Zayne paused and so did I..

He turned but didn't look at me, “ can she survive few minutes drive?” He asked and the doctor shook his head. 

“ She needs…”

“ Honesty Ian, honesty” 

The doctor swallowed, his hands tightly wrapped around the file in his hands. He sighed, “ she is no condition to…”

“ Twenty minutes and I bring her back” 

Ian sighed, his shoulders dropping as he shook his head, rubbing his forehead. 

Zayne’s gaze fell towards me, “ let's attend your funeral madam strategist” he said and I could swear it was mocking. 

I breathed in and nodded towards the doctor who had a worried look etched onto his expression…

In the car, Zayne fished out his cap and placed it on my hair, “it would be troublesome if someone recognises you” he said and started the engine. 

I wore the cap, letting it bend enough to hide my facial features. 

“Why did you help me?” I asked the question that had been at the tip of my tongue all along. 

He remained silent, not talking, not pausing. No reaction. 

My hands clenched. As a political strategist, I had always been respected, never ignored. It felt foreign to actually be ignored. 

I didn't know how long it took but we finally arrived at a cemetery. 

“We are here” he said 

There were flowers and greenery decorating the scene. It gave the ambience a light feeling not the haunting looking one.

I wanted to step down, to witness what was supposed to be my funeral, to see my husband, to look into his eyes but someone my legs became heavy when I saw him.

He wore sunglasses, his posture too erect for a grieving man, his steps too confident for one supposed to be broken. Hello walked into the venue with a black haute couture like he owned it, with Sia–the secretary who had always helped me with the workload. 

My chest tightened as I heard the camera shutter, capturing his image. 

Was this a funeral? Or a press conference. 

There were more paparazzi than there were even a single mourning soul. 

I watched how he walked with Sia, how she leaned in too close, how he let her hands wander too close.  

The world would see a subordinate helping her superior and a superior seeking comfort in a familiar place but…I..I had spent my life reading people. 

“Seen enough?” Zayne's voice snapped me out of the drowsiness that was about to engulf me. 

I swallowed. 

I would be a fool not to believe now.

I was a pawn in his games and I had been too in love to notice. 

My heart beat accelerated and my breathing went off chart. Fast. Terrifying. 

I took a deep, painful inhale…then exhale but it only got worse. 

“ Oh shit” Zayne cursed as the engine revved. 

I felt cold. Like the comforting arms of death wrapping around me. 

“ Keep your eyes open, don't close them” 

But the words were already fleeting. 

“She would be missed” a familiar heartwrenching voice resounded. 

My husband…giving the heartwrenching speech I knew had been memorised already.