04 It’s Final

 

Natalie

Uncle Michael sighed, the sound sharp in the silence. Irritation flickered across his face as he set his cup down with a pointed clink.

“Brian didn’t want a lot of things, Nicole,” he said, voice clipped. “But he’s gone now.”

His tone was flat, too steady, like he was trying not to show just how close he was to losing control.

“I need to know Natalie will be protected if something happens to me. That Brian’s bloodline doesn’t end in silence. That a Pierce doesn’t grow up poor or unguarded in a world like this.”

He glanced briefly at me, then back to my mother.

“You’re still young. You could remarry, start a new life. But Natalie? She’s my responsibility now. She always will be. So stop painting me as the villain.”

My mother went rigid beside me. Her fingers twisted in her lap, knuckles white.

“I would never betray Brian,” she whispered. Her voice trembled, but she held her head high.

“I loved him. I still do. And the way he died—the way his body was so broken, I couldn’t even recognize him…”

Her voice cracked, raw pain leaking through the cracks she’d fought so hard to seal.

“That haunts me, Michael. Every day. I never got to say goodbye. I never got closure. And I never will. So don’t you dare talk to me about moving on. Because I won’t. Not now. Not ever.”

She shook her head, blinking rapidly as the tears came.

“And don’t pretend you’re doing me a favor with this miracle treatment. You're not saving me out of kindness. Do I looklike someone who wants to live?”

She looked him dead in the eyes.

“The only reason I’m holding on is her.” She motioned toward me. “And what you’re doing right now—this—is hurting her, Michael. You say you’re protecting her, but all you’re doing is making her feel like a pawn. Like a cage is being built around her life before it’s even started.”

The silence that followed was thick and heavy.

Uncle Michael exhaled, long and slow. For a moment, his face softened—just barely. A shadow crossed his features, something unreadable. Grief, maybe. Or just the weight of years he refused to feel.

But then it was gone. Buried beneath that cold Pierce exterior.

“Don’t make it sound like I’m unaffected,” Uncle Michael said at last, his voice quieter now, though no less firm.

“Brian was my only brother, Nicole. My family, too. You and Natalie—you’re what’s left of him.”

He paused, jaw tight.

“You think this has been easy for me?”

His hand curled into a fist over his knee, knuckles whitening as if the control he was trying to keep was slipping through his fingers.

“I’m telling you this because Natalie has a future to protect. A role to play, A life to build for the sake of this family. And it starts with the right education, the right people around her, the right partner. That’s not control—it’s survival.”

He looked at my mother then, gaze narrowing.

“ By the way, why isn’t she staying on Campus?” He asked as if that was also an issue. No one answered and he seemed a bit irritated by the deafening silence.

“She can’t be coming home to you everyday. You should let her be by herself, learn to survive by herself. She’s growing up. One day, she’ll leave—no matter how tightly you hold on. And when that happens, where will you be? Still here, still mourning a man who isn’t coming back.”

The words hit like a slap.

And something inside me cracked.

Grief. Guilt. Rage.

I didn’t even know where one ended and the next began.

I opened my mouth to speak—to scream, maybe—but before I could, my mother’s voice sliced through the room.

“I won’t let you pin this on me, Michael,” my mother said, her voice firm despite the tremble beneath it. “Staying off campus was Natalie’s choice. She has every right to decide what’s best for her. You don’t get to take that from her.”

Uncle Michael exhaled sharply, jaw clenching. His composure cracked just enough to show the frustration simmering underneath.

“She needs to be on campus, Nicole. That’s how she’ll make the right connections, how she’ll grow. Running home to you every day isn’t growth—it’s stagnation.”

“And who said I’m the one holding her back?” my mother snapped, voice rising with quiet fury.

 “She’s grieving. She lost her father. We both did. And that decision—not to live on campus—was hers. Not mine.”

Michael didn’t flinch.

“Well, it was a mistake,” he said flatly. “She’ll be moving to campus. Away from you. She needs to learn what life will be like without you because that’s how the world works. One day, you won’t be there. Better she starts preparing now.”

His words hit hard, cruel in their logic. Then his gaze shifted to me—steady, cold, final.

“Pack your things,” he said. “I’ll take you to campus in the morning. I’ve already arranged everything with the dean. Your room is ready.”

He paused like he was offering a favor.

“It’s a VIP suite. No roommate—I figured you’d prefer that. But this isn’t negotiable. You must move.”

My chest tightened. The words landed like stone, impossible to lift or push back against. My thoughts spun, but his tone left no room for protest.

Then he stood, adjusted his jacket with mechanical precision, and turned to my mother. His expression was unreadable—part disdain, part something harder to name.

Without another word, he walked out, leaving silence in his wake.