Chapter 5 Seraphina's Pov

The church smelled like lilies and polished wood, the kind of scent that clung to your clothes long after you left. Morning light filtered through stained glass, painting the aisle in soft colors that felt wrong for a day like this.

Everything looked calm. Everything looked holy.

And yet, everything felt wrong.

Daniel held my hand too tightly as we stepped inside. His palm was damp, his shoulders tense under his little black suit.

"You're squeezing mommy's hand, honey.” 

I whispered.

He loosened his grip for half a second, then tightened it again. His eyes stayed on the rows of people, scanning faces like he was trying to make sense of what was happening. He was too young to understand grief, and too old to trust these people.

"So many people, Mum," he said quietly. "They're all here."

"Yes." I squeezed back gently. "Stay close to me, baby."

He nodded but didn't look convinced. Neither was I.

The front pews were filled with money and influence dressed in black. Diamonds that didn't bother to hide, watches that could pay a year's rent. Whispered condolences that sounded like business deals. Even death couldn't humble the powerful.

I spotted Margaret first.

She stood near the front, surrounded by women who looked like they had practiced their sorrowful expressions in a mirror. Her posture was straight, her face composed, she didn't look toward me. 

I could have been invisible, and God knows she would've preferred it that way.

Ethan stood beside her, jaw tight, eyes hard. Instead of leaving him weak and vulnerable, his grief over father's death had become fuel for his cruelty.

Celeste sat two seats away, radiant in mourning.

She wore black like it belonged to her. Neither heavy, nor dull, just perfect. Her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders. Her makeup was subtle but expensive. Her face carried grief like an accessory. People leaned in to speak to her, to touch her arm, to look at her with sympathy that bordered on worship.

Kieran stood at the end of the Frostbane row, shoulders squared, eyes forward. He didn't look at me at all.

After a moment of hesitation, I guided Daniel to a seat farther back. The safest place in a room like this was where no one cared enough to notice you.

Daniel down next to me stiffly. His knees bounced, then stopped as he forced himself still. He stared at the casket with a look that didn't belong on a child.

"What's wrong?" I whispered.

His mouth tightened. "If Grandpa died because he was sad... then maybe it's my fault too."

My chest caved in. Oh God, my baby!

"No."

He looked at me. His eyes were glossy but dry. He hated crying in front of people.

"He was sad because of you. That's what Uncle Ethan said when you called him yesterday."

God, I didn't know he'd been listening. I'd only wanted funeral details from my brother. It had escalated quickly, like it always did with Ethan.

My hand trembled as it moved to my son's cheek. "Your uncle was angry. He said things he shouldn't have."

Daniel swallowed. "But Grandpa didn't like you."

I held his gaze. "That has nothing to do with you, baby.”

He looked down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. "If I didn't exist, you wouldn't have married Dad."

The words landed like a blade.

How do I explain my child that he was born out of chaos and still the only beautiful thing that came from it?

I moved closer, whispering. "Listen to me. You are not a problem, and you are not a reason for pain. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. Do you understand?”

His throat bobbed. He blinked hard and nodded once.

The organ began to play. The service started.

I turned toward the altar, my heart still bleeding.

Children shouldn't carry history on their backs…

The priest spoke of Edward Frostbane like he'd been a saint. Legacy, discipline, generosity…

People nodded, dabbing eyes, murmuring agreement.

I stared at the casket and remembered my father's voice telling me I shouldn't have come, that I should've stayed gone. Telling me I'd done the most evil thing possible.

The priest called him a devoted father.

My mouth tasted bitter.

***

Halfway through the service, Margaret stood up. She turned slowly, scanning the congregation. Her gaze moved past me like I wasn't there.

Then she walked down the aisle.

For a moment, I thought she was coming toward me. My heart did something stupid. Something hopeful. Hope really was a disease.

She stopped in front of Daniel.

"My sweet boy!” 

Her voice trembled in a way that made everyone nearby turn.

Daniel stiffened. He looked up at her, startled.

Margaret cupped his face with both hands, tears finally spilling. "You were your grandfather's pride. You look so much like him… now you are the one who will carry his legacy to new heights.”

Daniel glanced at me, confused. Before he could decide what to do, Margaret pulled him into a hug.

She didn't touch me, didn't acknowledge me. Her arms wrapped around my son only, as if she could extract him from me through sheer will.

Celeste watched from the front row, expression calm. Inconsequential– that's what I was to her.

When Margaret released Daniel, she kissed his forehead and walked back without looking at me once.

Daniel's face was pale. "She hugged me."

"Yes." I kept my voice steady. "She did."

He hesitated. "Why didn't she hug you?"

I held my breath, then answered with the truth he could handle. "Because she's still angry."

His brows drew together. "That's not fair."

No, it wasn't.Fairness had never lived in that family.

When the service ended, people filed out slowly. The air outside was cold, the sky heavy with clouds. Cars lined the street, black and glossy. Security moved quietly at the edges; men in dark suits with earpieces, scanning faces.

We followed the crowd to the cemetery.

The Frostbane plot sat on a hill with manicured grass, polished stone, fenced like even the dead needed privacy.

I stood with Daniel at the edge of the gathering. Wind tugged at my hair. Daniel held my coat sleeve, his eyes flicking from face to face.

Across the aisle, I saw the Blackthornes.

Kieran's parents stood together like royalty. His father was tall, stern, silver-haired. His mother was elegant, chin lifted, eyes sharp. They owned half the city's real estate and carried that ownership in the way they looked at people.

They stared at me without any curiosity, familiarity or even recognition. Like they could convey through their eyes alone: you were never meant to belong with us.

Kieran stood a few steps in front of them, gaze fixed on the grave. But I knew he saw their attitude toward me.

He never corrected them, never defended me. He never had.

Well, I didn't care anymore. I was no longer associated with them. The divorce papers were signed. His approval meant nothing.

***

The burial was brief. Dirt hit wood with a dull sound that made Daniel flinch. He clutched my hand harder.

When it ended, people began to scatter. Condolences turned into conversations, and conversations turned into strategy. Death always became politics when the rich gathered.

Daniel whispered, "Can we go now?"

"Soon." I turned to guide him away.

Then a soft voice stopped me.

"Seraphina."

I turned. I'd recognize that voice anywhere.

Celeste stood behind me.

Up close, she looked even more unreal. Her eyes were red but her skin was glowing. 

"Celeste…?” 

I kept my voice careful.

Her gaze flicked to Daniel, then back to me. "You brought him too? Isn't it a private affair?”

“Yes, and? He is my family."

Her mouth curved slightly. 

“I don't know about that, but he's surely useful."

My fingers curled into my palm. "Don't talk about my son like that."

Celeste stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Whatever. I just want you to remember that I didn't come back just to mourn."

My chest tightened. "What do you want?"

She held my gaze without blinking. "Everything that you stole."

I let out a slow breath. "I didn't steal anything."

"You stole my life!” Her voice was soft, but the softness carried venom. 

"My engagement. My status. My place."

"That night was a mistake."

Celeste's eyes sharpened. "Mistakes don't last ten years."

My throat burned. "You left for aborad–”

“And still, you stayed, you shameless whore.” She corrected me like I was a child. "You stayed here, and claimed my place like it fit you."

I stared at her

“You can have your place, I didn't want it then either. Kieran never loved me."

Celeste's eyes flickered. She already knew, and it pleased her. 

“Is that a complaint? Because he didn't need to love you, and you were never worthy of it.”

I felt Daniel shift beside me. Instinctively, I angled my body to block him. I'd take every bullet before she ever touched him with her words.

Celeste noticed. Her gaze dropped to my movement, then lifted. "Don't worry. I'm not here to harm your child."

Her eyes hardened. "I'm here to reclaim what's mine. Kieran. The family. Everything."

Her voice dropped lower. "And I will." A promise carved in stone.

Before I could answer, a shout cut through the cemetery.

Sharp. Panicked.

Heads snapped around.

Another shout, louder.

Movement erupted at the gate.

Men in masks flooded in, in fast, coordinated movements. 

There was no doubt it was a planned attack.

The first gunshot cracked the air, my blood turned to ice.

People screamed. Bodies surged. Women in black heels stumbled over graves. Men shoved past each other, desperate to run.

Daniel's hand slipped from mine.

"Daniel!" I screamed.

I grabbed for him, but the crowd slammed into me from the side, knocking me off balance. I stumbled, my heel sinking into soft dirt.

Another shot.

Security rushed forward, but the mercenaries managed to push through chaos, heading straight toward the Frostbane family.

Toward Ethan, Margaret… and Celeste.

Kieran moved instantly.

He reached Celeste, pulled her behind him, shielding her with his body.

Of course he did.

Ethan grabbed Margaret's arm, dragging her toward the cars.

No one looked for me.

"Daniel!" My voice tore through the air.

I spun, searching through a blur of black coats and panic.

I saw him for a second. His dark hair, his small frame a few feet away from me. 

Then someone knocked into him and he disappeared into the crowd.

My lungs seized. I pushed forward, shoving past strangers, ignoring the sharp pain in my shoulder when someone slammed into me. I fell hard, pain flooded through my knee. I was up the next second.

"Move!" I yelled. No one listened. I was bleeding. I didn't care.

I just needed Daniel.

The mercenaries spread out, grabbing people, shouting orders. A man in a mask shoved a woman to the ground. Another yanked a phone from someone's hand and threw it.

I ran toward where I'd last seen my son.

A hand grabbed my arm.

I whipped around.

A masked attacker stood inches from me, eyes cold behind dark covering. He pulled me closer, grip crushing bone. Something metallic flashed in his other hand.

My mind went blank.

I tried to yank free. He jerked me back hard.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I thought of Daniel. His small face. His tight grip on my hand.

Not like this… not here. Not without him! 

I opened my mouth to scream. No sound came.

The attacker raised his arm.

I prayed my last prayer. God, please. Let my child live. Even if I don't.

Then, a body slammed into the attacker from the side.

Fast. Precise.

The masked man stumbled. The metallic thing clattered to the ground.

A man moved between us.

He hit the attacker with brutal efficiency. One blow to the throat, one to the wrist. A twist of the arm that dropped the attacker to his knees.

He didn't hesitate. A knee drove into the man's chest. The attacker collapsed, gasping.

I stood frozen, trembling, staring at the stranger who'd appeared out of nowhere.

He turned his head slightly, scanning the chaos like a soldier reading a battlefield.

Then he looked at me.

A stranger. I'd never seen him before.

But his eyes, steady and certain, held mine for one breath.

"Daniel," I gasped. "My son—I can't find my son—"

He didn't answer. Just grabbed my wrist and pulled me forward, moving through the chaos like he knew exactly where he was going.

Like he'd been waiting for this.