I lay there in a mess of blood and melted candles, laughing bitterly.
Such a pathetic performance, and yet Queenie didn’t even ask what happened. To her, I was already guilty.
Disgusted, she sneered down at me and said, “No wonder, you really are her son. Just as worthless as your crippled mother!”
The moment she brought up my mother, I felt something inside me snap.
My eyes burned red as I glared up at her.
Terence's POV
“Queenie, don’t you dare speak about my mother! You’re a murderer! You don’t deserve to say her name!”
My voice trembled with rage, every word burning in my throat. For a moment, she hesitated, as if sensing I wasn’t faking this pain. She opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, but Jeremy clung to her like a helpless child.
Trembling, he said, “Queenie... I can’t breathe. Terence said he burned my photo and mixed its ashes into the urn. It must be working... it hurts…”
The moment those words left his mouth, all the doubt on Queenie’s face disappeared.
Her expression turned cold as ice.
She picked up the urn from the floor, opened the lid, and her gaze darkened.
I shook my head violently, heart thundering in my chest. I begged, pleaded like a madman, “No! Please, don’t! Queenie, that’s my mother in there—!”
Before I could finish, she let go, and the urn slipped from her fingers and dropped into the fire pit.
In an instant, everything was gone.
“No!”
I screamed until my voice gave out. I plunged my hands into the flames without thinking, causing blisters to erupt instantly. But I didn’t care. I just wanted to grab anything that was left of her.
But there was nothing.
Not even a trace of her ashes.
I collapsed on the ground, broken and howling in despair.
But Queenie simply looked at me like I was insane, then turned and walked off with Jeremy in her arms.
As she left, she threw out one cold sentence, “Jeremy’s birthday is next week. If you show up and apologize, I’ll pretend none of this happened. I’ll even keep your mother in the hospital, just like before.”
But I said nothing and just held the scorched, discolored urn to my chest like it was the last piece of my soul.
Third Person's POV
A week had passed, but Terence never showed up to apologize.
Furious, Queenie stormed into the hospital room where his mother had stayed, ready to drag him out herself.
But when she pushed the door open, the room was completely empty.
Something sank deep in her chest.
Just as she reached for her phone, her assistant came rushing in, face pale with panic.
“Ms. Hawkins… they said Mr. Shaw’s mother passed away… a week ago! And no one’s seen him since!”
