Chapter 3

I drove to my mother’s gravesite so fast I was practically stumbling by the time I got there.

Ethan was already there, directing a crew to dig up the grave.

“Stop!”

I lunged forward and shoved the two workers away, then grabbed a shovel and stood in front of my mother’s headstone like a shield.

Ethan pulled Vanessa and Hugo behind him and let out a mocking laugh.

“Claire Bennett, I thought as long as the money was good enough, anything could be rented.

“I already transferred the fee for your mother’s plot. So what exactly are you making a scene about now?”

I was so furious my teeth were shaking.

“Ethan Caldwell, are you even human?”

He just shrugged, unconcerned.

“I’m following your rules, aren’t I? How does that make me the villain?

“Or is it that, in your mind, every kind of love is sacred—except ours? Ours is the only one cheap enough to put a price tag on?”

My nails dug so hard into my palms I should have felt pain. I felt nothing.

I couldn’t understand it.

How had the man who once knelt beside my mother’s hospital bed and swore he would never betray me become this person?

Vanessa stood there with a framed photo of a dog in her arms, tears glittering in her eyes as she spoke in that soft, aggrieved voice of hers.

“Forget it, Ethan. I know Duke was family to Hugo and me, but a pet is still a pet. It really wouldn’t be appropriate for it to take her mother’s burial plot.”

The moment Ethan saw her tears, his voice turned cold.

“Move, Claire.”

I gritted out every word. “In your dreams.”

He stepped closer and leaned down beside my ear.

“Mia’s surgery is next month. You should try being a little more cooperative until then.”

My whole body went cold.

“Isn’t Mia your daughter too?

“You’re threatening me with your own child?”

Ethan lifted a loose strand of hair and tucked it behind my ear with disturbing tenderness.

“Yes. But Hugo is my son too.

“The night before our wedding, Vanessa asked to see me. I drank too much, and... I made a mistake.

“You and Mia have the money. You have the legal title. So you should be the ones to act like adults.”

A sheen of cold sweat broke over me.

All I could see was Mia collapsing during her cardiac episode, over and over again in my mind.

Slowly, I lowered the shovel.

My legs felt filled with lead as I forced myself to step aside.

Hugo darted forward at once. “Yes! The old hag’s getting kicked out so Duke can move in!”

He yanked the black-and-white photo off my mother’s headstone, then grabbed the urn and raised it as if he was about to smash it.

“No!”

My mind went blank.

I threw myself at him.

To protect the urn, I took the full force of the impact and slammed my head against the stone.

The world spun. Everything in front of me turned red.

“Claire!”

Ethan rushed over and caught me, his hands shaking as he reached for the blood on my forehead.

“Does it hurt? Are you dizzy?”

I shoved him away and pulled a set of documents from my bag, pressing them hard against his chest.

“The fee you paid isn’t enough.

“Sign.”

The second he saw the words Property Transfer Agreement on the page, his expression turned glacial.

“Fine, Claire Bennett. Just fine!”

He pulled out a pen, signed his name in a few hard strokes, then threw both the pen and the papers to the ground before wrapping an arm around Vanessa and walking off with her and Hugo.

The pen snapped clean in two when it hit the ground.

I gave him that pen for our third dating anniversary.

The first thing he ever signed with it was our marriage certificate.

I bent down, picked up the documents, and found the divorce papers clipped behind the transfer agreement.

I stared at his sharp, familiar signature.

Then I laughed and cried at the same time as I clutched my mother’s urn and forced myself back to my feet.

Once Mia’s surgery was over, it would all be finished between us.

At last, the day of the operation came.

I watched as Mia was wheeled into the operating room.

Only then did I let out a breath and sink to my knees outside the doors, praying over and over.

"Please. Please let the surgery go well. Please let my daughter live."

But before the procedure was even over, another deposit notification flashed across my phone.

I hadn’t even had time to read the memo when the doors to the operating room flew open.

One of the doctors was rushing out, still wearing bloodstained gloves.

My hands and feet went numb.

I grabbed the last doctor by the sleeve of his white coat and held on with everything I had.

“My daughter’s surgery isn’t finished. Where are you going?”