Chapter 5

With the five million, the arrangements for Dad's funeral went smoothly. I chose a south-facing plot on the hill, the kind of spot he always loved, with a view that stretched across the whole city.

The day of the cremation was overcast. I did not notify any relatives or friends. After the Holts went bankrupt, every person who once clamored to be close to us disappeared overnight, afraid of being tainted by association.

I carried the urn alone through the empty cemetery. The wind was strong enough to make my eyes sting.

My phone vibrated relentlessly in my pocket. It was Simone.

I did not want to answer, but she kept calling over and over until I finally gave in.

"Spencer! Where the hell were you?" Deafening music and the clink of glasses poured through the speaker.

"There was an important business reception tonight. Get over here. Now."

"I could not." I was looking at Dad's name on the headstone. My voice was barely above a whisper.

"Could not? What could you possibly have going on? All you did was sit around the house like a freeloader." Simone laughed coldly.

"Do not think I could not tell you were throwing a tantrum. This was about the ring, was it not? Behave tonight, keep Mr. Drake happy, and I would buy you an even better one.

"Oh, and Dylan was here. He did not know business etiquette, so come show him the ropes and take a few drinks for him while you were at it."

She wanted me there to drink so her other man would not have to. This was the woman I loved for seven years.

"I was not coming."

I hung up and turned off my phone. The world finally went quiet.

I sat in front of the headstone for the rest of the afternoon and did not leave until the sky had gone completely dark and the cemetery groundskeeper told me it was time to go.

It was late by the time I got back to the villa. Every light in the living room was on. Simone sat on the couch, reeking of alcohol, her eyes dark and dangerous.

Dylan crouched on the floor, working her heels off. Dried tear tracks still marked his face.

The moment I walked through the door, Simone grabbed the ashtray off the coffee table and hurled it at me. It grazed the side of my forehead and smashed against the wall, spraying glass in every direction.

A fragment sliced across my brow, and warm blood ran down into my eye until everything turned red.

"Spencer! You had some nerve. Hanging up on me? Turning off your phone?"

She lurched to her feet and grabbed me by the collar. "Did you have any idea how important tonight was? Because you were not there, Mr. Drake was offended. If this deal fell through, how were you going to make up for it?"

I let her shake me, limp and hollow, with nothing left inside.

"Say something! Stop playing mute!"

She looked at the blood on my face and hesitated, as though she had not expected to actually hurt me. The flicker of guilt was gone almost before it appeared, swallowed whole by her anger.

"You were going to stand here and play the victim over a scratch? Dylan covered for you tonight and drank until his stomach gave out. You were this family's son-in-law. That should have been your job."

Dylan leaned against the couch with a hand pressed to his stomach, looking drained. "Simone, do not blame Spencer. Maybe he really did have something urgent."

"What could he possibly have that was urgent?" Simone sneered. "I bet he was out with some woman. Took that five million from the ring and blew it on some girl, did you not?"

She reached for my pockets. "Where was the money? Hand over whatever was left!"

I clamped my hands over my pockets and held on. Inside were the receipt for the burial plot and Dad's death certificate.

"Let go!"

"No!"

In the struggle, a thin slip of paper came loose and drifted to the floor. It landed right beside Simone's foot.

The air in the room seemed to freeze.

It was the cremation certificate from the funeral home. The bold black print stood out harsh and unmistakable under the chandelier.

"Name of the deceased: Gordon Holt.

"Date of cremation: October 15, 2025."

That was today.

Simone went completely still.