Hazel's POV

White roses. He always loved the colour white.

I take in a deep breath, watching the dark clouds gather above me with the promise of heavy rain, mirroring the way my tears gather, stinging my eyes as a shadow of despair surges through me, threatening to spill at any second.

"Please, Miss. You have to stop crying," Linda says softly for the last time. She understands how important it is for me to retain my composure even at a moment like this.

Right. I use Linda's words to keep myself from bawling my heart out at my father's grave.

Fooling around in public with puffy, red eyes would be bad for my image as the new CEO. The people I work for don't care that I'm burying my father, because as far as they are concerned, my image is more important than my grief.

But how does anyone expect me to shake the heavy feeling in my chest.

My eyes sting again. Dammit! There are hundreds of people around me. I can't lose myself in front of all these people. I can't show any signs of weakness. I can't let them see how helpless I am. I exhale through the black, netty piece attached to my black hat which Linda thoughtfully picked out for today.

"It goes well with the dress. And it'll cover your face in case you start to get all teary again," she said, to which I smiled.

Edwin's hand tightens softly around mine. I turn to him and smile. I am not alone. And even though my father won't be alive to witness it, I will soon be married to this amazing man. He's always been there for me, and I will always be there for him.

Thinking about it, here and now, I am thankful to still have my only source of comfort.

The first time I realized how much I truly need him in my life was the week he asked if we could move in together. He said it didn’t matter to him if we both lived at his place or mine, but seeing as my penthouse was a bit more salacious, we agreed to move into mine. I felt safe, and loved. Now, months later, i think it is one of the best decisions we ever made as a couple.

It's cold and windy. The weather mourns with me in a way that I find quite clichè but beautiful. And deep down, I hope it rains. Not only to cut this dreadful occasion short, but also that once I'm alone, relaxing in a hot bath, it will drown out the sound of my loud, shaky sobs as I mourn for hours on end. Because tomorrow is another business day, and I'll have to answer to the board of directors. And I need every last bit of my sorrow to be dried out by then.

I have been preparing for this my entire life. There shouldn't be anything to worry about, of course, but that never stops me from worrying.

The priest drones on and on, and I watch from the front row in the open field as they lower his coffin into the ground. I'm glad I got to say goodbye last week at the hospital after the doctor said his time was up. Our last moment together was beautiful, and I got to tell him that I loved him one last time.

And as stupid as it sounds, I can feel his presence with me. Comforting me in that sweet way that he always did when I was down. I can almost feel his arm around my shoulder. And see his warm smile, and hear his voice telling me that everything will be just fine.

An unconscious smile creeps onto my lips. Nothing brings me more joy than knowing he will be with Mother again. He was torn when we lost her, and even after he got married to that hopeless bimbo Shannon, he would always talk about being with her again in the afterlife.

***

It is done. Benedict Ambrose is in the ground.

I had a long, miserable night after the funeral. However, it's time to put all that behind me.

"Hazel?"

I turn from the floor-to-ceiling glass window of our penthouse, neglecting the view to face Edwin. "You alright? You haven't talked about the funeral," he says. I give him a reluctant smile as I walk over to him.

"It was wonderful, Edwin. But now I have to mentally prepare for everything that comes after," I reply, pulling him into a hug. He wraps his arms around me, and I allow his warmth to wash over me, knowing once again that I am not alone. 

"Like your board meeting in a few hours. Right." I nod in response.

"Everything is going to go well, and I know you'll do great."

I appreciate his words of encouragement, but I'm too distracted by the strong smell of his cologne to say so.

I let go, taking a step back and noticing what he's wearing. "Going somewhere?" I ask. Not that it really matters, but he barely gets out of the house. "Yes. And I want to tell you that I'm seeing an old friend today but you already sound mad," he replies.

I smile. "I'm not mad, Love. Have fun with them."

Who could he possibly be meeting up with?

I shake off the thought. I don't have the time to overthink this. Not now anyways.

So, I focus on my morning routine because it keeps me calm and it allows me to feel organized, despite how scattered my thoughts are these days. I smell fresh and clean as I pick out my outfit for the day. My midnight blue skirt with a matching fitted blazer seems appropriate. And then I'm off, repeating my mantra of affirmations and fidgeting with my phone until it's time for the meeting.

***

I'm already seated at the head of the table when board members trudge in. One of the executives begins and I sit in silence as he goes on and on about company assets and how quickly we must sort out the negotiations with investors that my father had been working on before anyone changes their mind. I feel a little less nervous now because I don't believe that my transition from Chief Financial Officer to Chief Executive Officer would be too much of a hassle. I'm ready for this, and they know it. In fact, after seeing all my hard work over the past few years, I'd say they're confident in my abilities and looking forward to my time as CEO.

"At this point I would like to give Miss. Ambrose a chance to enlighten us on her plans for the rest of the year before we officially introduce her as our new CEO."

The room falls intensely silent. I exhale, gripping my thighs under the table.

"Thank you, Mr. Jacobs," I begin with a smile. Here we go. I can do this. I expected this question and I've prepared a monologue that will make everyone happy and satisfied. I open my mouth to begin, but the words get stuck in my throat as the board room door opens wide with a chaotic bang.

All it takes is a second. One unexpected moment and I can see my life shifting beyond my control. My eyes lock with the intruder and she smiles smugly at me.

There are nervous glances and murmurs around the room as I stand to my feet. I regret it immediately because my knees buckle and I have to grip the edge of the table to remain steady.

Soon my shock translates to rage.  "What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

I'm seething with anger, but my tone is stern. Shannon shouldn't be here. Not after everything.

I can tell just by looking at her that she feels triumphant. She looks like she has won, and I'm dying to know what game she's playing and who she thinks she's playing with.

She pouts, and her next words have me sick to my stomach.

"That's no way to speak to your step-mother."