After a long, tense silence, Erving finally let out a sigh.
He opened the bag and pulled a wrapped sandwich, placing it carefully in front of me.
In a gentle tone, he said, “Eat something first. I made this especially for you. You haven’t had a thing all day.”
When I didn’t move, he added, “Don’t take it out on your body. I’ve set your mom’s funeral for the day after tomorrow. The cemetery spot she liked, the sunny one she once mentioned; I’ve gone over every detail. Everything I promised, I’ll make sure it happens.”
At the mention of my mom, the tension in my back finally eased slightly.
I closed my eyes, swallowing the rage in my chest, and took the bowl.
The funeral day was gray and overcast.
Dressed in black, I stood at my mom’s grave, clutching a white chrysanthemum. Tears welled in my eyes, and grief weighed heavily on my face.
The wind lifted my skirt and ruffled the hair at Erving’s forehead.
He stayed by my side the entire time, greeting guests while still keeping an eye on me. Everyone said I had married a good man.
I forced a smile; it didn’t reach my eyes.
Then, the sound of hurried footsteps shattered the quiet.
I turned and saw a swarm of reporters charging in, cameras flashing like lightning in the solemn cemetery.
“Mr. Pollock! Are the photos of you kissing Anya Heffernan in the hotel hallway real?”
“Mandy! Did your husband turn to Anya because of your nude portrait scandal?”
“Sir, you’re at your mother-in-law’s funeral while rumors swirl about you and another woman. Aren’t you worried about what people will say?”
Their sharp questions hit all at once. My eyes widened as I turned to Erving.
His face went stone pale, and he raised his hand, demanding, “Guards! Get them out! Who let them in?” he barked.
In the chaos, Anya ran in, her eyes red. She grabbed my wrist.
“Mandy, please don’t blame Erving. I was drugged. He was just trying to make sure I wasn’t harmed…”
“It’s none of your business!” Erving stepped forward, putting her behind him. His voice shook with urgency. “Mandy, she was a victim, too. Don’t put this on her…”
A victim?
I stared at him shielding her, at the guilt in his eyes. A bitter laugh escaped me.
Even though I had expected this, the pain still stole my breath.
“When I was in the hospital, barely able to move without screaming in pain… when my mother hadn’t even been buried… you were in a hotel room with her? Erving, is that what you mean by returning the favor to that woman?”
His shoulders stiffened, his eyes flicking away from mine. “I didn’t have a choice. Anya… She was drugged. I couldn’t let anyone else touch her—”
“So you touched her yourself?” I stepped closer, right in front of him, my voice shaking but every word sharp and clear. “Erving, look at my mom’s grave and tell me—did you or did you not touch Anya?”
The reporters kept snapping photos, the bodyguards were shouting to hold them back, but I only had eyes for him.
I waited for him to deny it; even a lie would have been enough.
I just wanted, in front of my mother, to give her a little dignity.
But Erving’s lips parted. His throat moved as he swallowed hard, then he muttered, “Mandy, I’m sorry. I… I have to take responsibility for her.”
I froze. The words hit like a hammer, shattering my heart.
I remembered the scar he got saving me years ago.
I remembered him promising, “From now on, no matter what happens, I’ll come running to you without any hesitation.”
I remembered him holding my hand at my mom’s sickbed, promising to care for me for life.
All those memories, the ones that once made my heart race, now felt like the cruelest joke.
I shoved him away, pointing at my mom’s grave. I couldn’t stop the tears in my eyes, but I managed to firmly say, “Erving. You’ve tainted my mom’s funeral and destroyed everything we ever had! From today on, it’s over between us!”
With that, I turned and walked away.
