CHAPTER THREE

The cold, gloomy weather, the thick clouds, and the low chants of the priest—all synced with the loneliness that now consumed her.

Clara watched as the priest said prayers for little Claire, her heart hollow, her eyes sunken in, making her look dead herself.

A few of Claire’s teachers from school were the only ones who bothered to attend the funeral. Everyone was dressed in black. Little Claire’s casket was placed on a silver table.

The priest finished the prayers, and Clara was the only one allowed to see little Claire one last time. She stared down at Claire’s lifeless corpse, her skin akin to that of a ghost.

She was dressed in her favorite blue gown, one she vividly recalled her wearing when she played the role of Cinderella at school.

Her wide grin and cheerful laughter were now replaced by a hollow look—the gore. She had promised to take her to Disneyland during their school break. She never knew her little bundle of joy wouldn’t live to see that day.

A drop of tears fell from her eyes. Everyone who had hurt her would never go unpunished. She would make them pay all of them! She would get to the bottom of it, she would catch Claire’s murderer and watch him burn in hell herself. She wouldn’t rest until she gave justice to Claire. They would all pay.

Her casket was then lowered to the ground. It made a screeching sound and got stuck at some point, like little Claire didn’t want to depart from her mother, like she didn’t want to let her go.

After the funeral, everyone began leaving one after the other until it was just her left, standing in front of her daughter’s grave. A heavy downpour began, drenching her completely, but she still stood there, almost lifelessly.

Ken had never bothered to show up. He didn’t care to pay his last respects to their daughter. Hell, he wouldn’t have had to if he had just tried to be a real father, even for a minute.

To think, after everything, he had the guts to push her away, to discard her like she was nothing. Without empathy or an ounce of hesitation, he had erased their daughter from his life like she was never there to begin with.

He had chosen another woman over her, over their daughter, because she was pregnant with a boy. Ken wasn’t just a demon, he was the devil himself.

It was her fault. If she had never fallen in love with Ken, if she had listened to her parents, if she had never fallen for his lies and trickery, Claire would have never been born into this wicked and malicious family. One that took everything she had, robbed her of everything, and tossed her aside.

A bitter scoff escaped her lips. Of course why wouldn’t they? They had used her already, and now that she was of no use to them, they disposed of her.

The cold wind bit through her skin, the weight of the heavy downpour nearly plunging her to the ground. Her body trembled, her eyes burning with enough intensity to set the world ablaze. A world that could do such injustice to a young little girl didn’t deserve to exist.

Unbeknownst to her, a six-foot figure stood at s considerable distance from her. Dressed in an expensive black tux, an expensive and well-polished shoe with a diamond wristwatch adorning his wrist.

He stood with a black umbrella over his head, his lips pressed into a thin line, a grim expression settled on his handsome face. His eyes were on one person only Clara. His Clara.

He stared at the newly dug grave that belonged to Claire, and he clenched his fist into a tight ball. Seeing Clara in the heavy downpour, without a shield over her head, he quickly discarded the umbrella in his hand and stood unmoving under the heavy downpour.

Knowing Clara needed time to grieve, he held himself back from approaching. When he saw she was ready to leave, he turned and left the cemetery, hopping on his sleek MC3 Galavantador and driving out of there before she could catch a wisp of his presence.

……..

Clara got into her car, slamming the door shut afterward. She drove away from the cemetery, her eyes hardened, dialing Ken’s number.

She would call him one last time—one last time to wrap up whatever they had had for a decade.

Surprisingly, he picked up at the first ring, and Clara heard the sharp feminine voice on the other end—Yvonne.

“How sad that you had to attend your daughter’s funeral all alone while your husband has been sleeping in my arms,” Yvonne said, her voice laced with mockery.

Clara and Yvonne had actually met way back in high school. She was her best friend, and while Clara had been dating Ken, she never knew Yvonne secretly had a crush on him. It caused a rift between them, only for her to resurface and be taken by Ken as his mistress.

“Where’s Ken?” Despite the fact that her blood boiled and the urge to strangle them all held her in a chokehold, she kept up a tough skin.

Yvonne giggled. “He’s right here with me, darling,” Yvonne drawled. “A shame he chose me over you for a baby that isn’t even his.” Yvonne laughed maliciously.

Clara’s grip on the wheel tightened. Her heart rate dropped instantly.

“Your poor daughter died for nothing. The baby I’m carrying isn’t even Ken’s child,” Yvonne said, her tone coated with a mixture of mockery and joy.

Clara almost couldn’t believe it. This woman! This devil! Her daughter had died for a child that wasn’t even Ken’s to begin with. Her poor daughter was six feet underneath the ground all because of a lie this woman had spewed, and Ken—Ken had foolishly believed all her lies.

No.

The phone slipped from her hand, falling to the floor. Her hands trembled, and she saw the approaching truck far too late. All attempts to avoid it were in vain as the truck crashed into the car.