Chapter Three

Clarissa’s POV

“Clarissa?” Bruce’s voice drifted through the bathroom door, his tone gentle. He knocked softly. “Are you alright in there?”

I pressed my palms against my burning face, forcing back the tears that threatened to suffocate me. “Yes… I just needed some air.”

Silence answered me. Behind that silence, my heart couldn’t stop pounding furiously. When he finally spoke, his words were soft, coaxing.

“Come back to bed, dear. You need your strength. Tomorrow will be hard. We need to be strong… together.”

Together. The word tasted like poison in my mouth.

I didn’t answer. My body felt like stone as I opened the door, stepping back into the bedroom where Bruce lay sprawled, one arm draped over his face as though he’d been resting peacefully the whole time.

The moment I slipped under the covers beside him, that same unfamiliar scent—the strange perfume clinging to his sheets—invaded my senses. My throat tightened. His breathing was steady. Relaxed.

I closed my eyes, but sleep never came. My mind refused to shut down. 

By the time morning arrived, I was grateful.

Sophia’s funeral felt like a cruel joke orchestrated by the universe itself. A tiny white coffin. Pale, lifeless fingers. Lips that would never again call me ‘Mommy’. People whispered condolences I couldn’t hear. My body moved, but my soul had died days ago.

Then I saw it.

The flowers.

A massive bouquet, bigger than any other. White lilies. Black dahlias.

Pinned to it was a small, simple card.

“You will always be in my thoughts. — Freda.”

The name cut through my numbness like a knife to the chest.

Freda.

The name sounded oddly familiar. Then the memories came crashing. Freda. Bruce’s ex-lover.

I turned slowly to Bruce, my voice foreign to my own ears. “Freda? Did she send these? When did she return?”

His reaction was subtle—but I saw it. His eyes widened slightly. His posture stiffened, just for a fraction of a second. Then, like a curtain dropping, he masked it.

“I… I had no idea she was back in town.”

But he was lying. I knew what I saw.

Before the mask, there had been panic.

Freda. His first love. The woman his mother had always wanted for him. The woman he almost married, before he chose me.

Why was Freda sending flowers to my daughter’s funeral?

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. My fingers curled into fists, my nails digging into my palms. “Why would she send these, Bruce?”

He ran a hand through his hair and gave a loud, dramatic sigh. “I don’t know, Clarissa. Maybe she heard. Maybe it’s just… condolences. People gossip in this town.”

I wanted to question more. I wanted sincere answers. There was no way Freda could just send flowers to my daughter’s funeral without any word. But eyes were watching us. Pitying glances burned against my skin. I bit back my words, saving them for later. I turned away from him.

I sat alone in the living room after we got home from the funeral. Everyone was gone. Silence echoed too loudly. Sophia’s favorite doll sat untouched on the coffee table, its tiny smile frozen forever. My chest hurt. Not just sadness—it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Her absence was suffocating. The pain in my chest was so sharp I wondered if I might die from it.

I didn’t know how long I sat there. Minutes. Hours. The world felt far away.

Then a thought broke through the fog.

Cameras.

We had security cameras inside the house. After that break-in last year, Bruce insisted on installing them. There were cameras in the hallways… outside Sophia’s room. There had to be footage from that day. Maybe I could see her again, even if just for a moment.

My legs moved before my brain did. I stumbled toward Bruce’s study, my hands shaking as I turned on the desktop and logged in to the system. The passwords came automatically. My fingers knew them even though my mind felt numb.

Come on. Show me something. Please.

I searched for the recordings from two days ago.

My heart stopped.

“No…”

Deleted.

That day’s folder existed… but the files were missing.

Not corrupted.

Deleted.

My breath caught. My mind refused to believe it. I clicked through every file. Nothing. It wasn’t an error. It wasn’t a glitch.

Someone had removed it.

Why? Unless they were hiding something.

My heart thundered violently as my hands moved without thought, pulling out my phone. I scrolled frantically through my contacts, hovering over a name I hadn’t seen in months.

Devan.

My finger hovered over his name. My ex. The man I loved before Bruce. The man I left behind to marry into Bruce’s polished, perfect world.

But Devan… Devan was the only person I could trust now. He worked in cybersecurity. He could retrieve the files.

Before I could think, I pressed the call button.

The phone rang twice before his voice came through, deep and familiar. “Clarissa?”

I broke down the moment I heard his voice. A sob cracked from my throat, raw and broken.

“Clarissa… what happened?”

“I… I need help.” I clutched the edge of the desk, feeling like I might collapse. “I think… I think something’s wrong. Something’s missing. Sophia… she’s gone. She died. And… the footage from the house cameras is gone too. Deleted. I don’t know why. I don’t know what’s happening.”

I felt so small saying it aloud. Like maybe I was imagining things. Maybe I was losing my mind.

Silence. Then his voice, softer. Worried. Protective.

“Where are you?”

“At home.” My voice trembled. “Some of the surveillance footage… It’s been deleted.”

Devan’s silence stretched.

Then he said quietly, “Text me the camera system details. I’ll help you.”

Tears slipped down my cheeks as I nodded uselessly.

“And Clarissa…” His voice broke a little. “I’m sorry. About Sophia.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, gripping the phone until my knuckles turned white.

I flinched when I heard Bruce’s voice from the hall.

“Clarissa? What are you doing?”

Panic shot through me. I wiped my face quickly and hung up the call just as Bruce stepped into the room. His smile was soft, but his eyes felt unreadable.

“What are you doing here all alone?” he asked gently, his gaze flicking from the laptop to me. 

I forced my voice not to shake. “Just… checking something.”

He walked closer. His fingers brushed my cheek, tender as ever. “Today’s not the day to overthink, love. Come. Let’s drink something. You need to relax.”

I let him lead me away. I felt like I was floating somewhere far outside my body.

He led me to the kitchen, and sat me down on a stool. My mind was racing, my stomach sick. Who could have deleted the footage files? And why? 

My hands trembled as he poured the deep red liquid into two glasses.

“To us,” he said softly, lifting his glass.

I hesitated. His dark eyes were locked on me.

I forced myself to sip.

Minutes passed before the edges of my vision began to blur. My eyelids grew heavy.

Bruce’s arm slipped around my waist. He pulled me against him.

“Don’t worry about anything,” he whispered against my ear. “I’ll handle everything.”

I nodded. Perhaps I was just overthinking everything. 

I could barely focus as he placed papers before me. My signature. He needed my signature.

“For the funeral expenses… legal papers… just sign here, baby.”

His voice was distant, like it was coming through water. Blindly, I scribbled my signature where he indicated.

His lips, cold and heavy with finality, pressed against my temple as darkness closed in. 

“Well done, girl.”