Chapter 3

For years, my grandmother was the only person in the Carter family who knew for certain that I was dead.

She was the one who claimed my remains and brought my ashes home.

She was old, and her memory had already been failing. After the shock of my death, her dementia worsened.

She often forgot that I was dead at all.

Seeing my grandmother run straight toward Adrian filled me with sudden dread.

"Adrian."

My grandmother called out.

"What are you doing here?"

Adrian froze. He turned back and recognized my grandmother at once.

After all, my grandmother had been the only person in the Carter family who supported us being together.

Back then, when I refused to leave Adrian and my father threw me out, it was my grandmother who secretly helped us.

Later, when my father found out, he cut her off financially and left her struggling to get by.

She had been kind all her life, yet she was the one left to carry her granddaughter's ashes home.

Adrian hated me, but he could not bring himself to be as cruel to my grandmother, who had once truly cared for him, as he had been to my father.

Adrian ordered one of his men to pull my grandmother away from the edge of the fire, then turned to leave.

But my grandmother, panting hard, hurried after him and held on to his hand.

"Adrian, you're finally back."

"Grace has missed you so much. I'll take you to see her."

Adrian's body went rigid.

"Grace Carter? She's here?"

My grandmother noticed nothing wrong. She patted his hand affectionately.

"Yes. She misses you terribly. She's been waiting to see you."

If I had still been able to cry, I would have.

In moments like this, my grandmother's memory slipped back to the days just after I had severed my bond with Adrian.

Back then, I had acted calm and carefree in front of Adrian, but behind his back, I was falling apart.

My grandmother did not understand what had happened.

My grandmother only knew that I missed Adrian—so very much.

My grandmother led Adrian toward the small building nearby.

"Let's go see her together."

I drifted after them in silence.

My urn was kept in my grandmother's home.

If Adrian saw it...

The moment he stepped inside, Adrian stopped at the sight of the clutter covering the floor.

"So this is how Grace Carter has been taking care of you?"

He frowned, anger creeping into his voice.

My grandmother noticed none of it. She cleared a small space on the sofa.

"Adrian, sit here."

Adrian did not move.

Adrian stood where he was and asked coldly, "Where is Grace Carter? Tell her to come out and see me."

My grandmother patted her forehead and thought for a moment.

"Grace went out to earn money."

"Grace said she needed to earn lots and lots of money so she could bring Adrian back."

Then, as if remembering something important, my grandmother hurried into the kitchen.

"You haven't eaten, have you? Grace will be home soon."

She took out three bowls.

One for herself.

One for Adrian.

And one she placed carefully at the empty seat by the window.

Adrian stared at it.

"Who is that for?"

My grandmother looked surprised.

"Grace, of course."

She lowered her voice like she was sharing a secret.

"That girl always says she isn't hungry, but that's because she's too tired. These days she comes home smelling strange."

Adrian's eyes narrowed.

"Strange how?"

"Like a hospital."

My grandmother frowned, struggling to remember.

"No. Stronger than that. Bitter. Like burned herbs and metal."

A chill went through me.

Silver compounds. Wolfsbane. Disinfectant.

The smells of the underground clinic had sunk so deeply into my clothes that no amount of washing could remove them. Near the end, I had stopped visiting my grandmother because I was afraid she would notice.

Adrian took one step forward.

"When was this?"

My grandmother blinked at him.

"When was what?"

"When did Grace come home smelling like medicine?"

She stared at him for several seconds. Then her face softened.

"Adrian, don't be angry with Grace."

"She cries when she thinks I'm asleep."

His expression froze.

My grandmother continued in a whisper.

"She keeps counting money at night. Again and again. She says she only needs a little more."

"A little more for what?" Adrian asked.

But the thread in her mind had already snapped.

She turned toward the empty bowl and smiled.

"Grace, eat before the soup gets cold."

There was no one there.

Adrian looked at the untouched bowl, then at my grandmother. For the first time since entering the house, the anger on his face was mixed with something else.

Unease.

He gave a cold laugh.

"Was being poor with me so unbearable? I really must have wronged her."

He held out his hand.

"Give me your phone. I'll call her myself."

My grandmother could not remember where the phone was, so she lowered her head and began searching between the sofa cushions.

Adrian soon grew impatient and was about to look for it himself when an angry voice came from the doorway.

"Are you family? Then settle the rent she owes and find her somewhere else to live."

Adrian turned.

A middle-aged woman stood in the doorway with a folder tucked under one arm.

"What do you mean?"

The landlady frowned. "She sold me this house five years ago and stayed on as a tenant. I've let months of unpaid rent slide because of her age, but I can't keep doing it forever."

Adrian's expression sharpened.

"Sold it to you? This house belonged to her."

"Exactly," the woman said. "She signed the deed herself. Do you want to see it?"

Adrian froze.

"The Carter family wasn't short of money back then. Why would she have sold her house?"

His jaw tightened as he reached for the ugliest explanation first.

"Grace Carter, I thought you were only heartless toward me."

"I never imagined you would abandon even your own grandmother for money."

But in that moment, I understood.

Five years ago, Adrian was critically ill. I had gone mad trying to raise money.

My grandmother noticed I was short on cash and gave me a sum of money, saying it was her private savings from over the years.

I believed her.

I never imagined it had come from selling her last house.

Looking at her bent back and white hair, I understood what her help had cost her, and the realization was almost unbearable.

Still searching for her phone, my grandmother wandered into the back room. A moment later, she came out again.

My grandmother waved at Adrian.

"Adrian, I brought Grace to see you."

The color drained from Adrian's face.

What my grandmother held in her arms was my urn.