"Frankie!"
"My grandson! My precious boy!"
Valerie collapsed to the ground, her wails piercing the stagnant air of the morgue.
Julian lunged at me, seizing my collar with trembling hands. "What is going on, Aaron? How could Frankie be dead? We still had time! The deadline hadn't passed!"
I let the tears flow—easy to summon in the face of such tragedy, even with a heart cold as ice. "The kidnappers said we waited too long. Since we didn't pay, they got tired of waiting. They disposed of him hours ago."
Disposed of.
The words hit Julian like a physical blow. He staggered back, releasing me, and sank to the floor beside his wife, burying his face in his hands.
"It's all because of that ungrateful daughter of mine!"
"She killed him! She killed my grandson!"
Later, as I prepared to transport Frankie's body to the crematorium, I called Bella—making sure to do it right in front of her parents.
"Frankie is dead," I said, my voice thick with feigned grief. "Are you really not coming back?"
The call connected instantly this time.
Her voice was sharp, dripping with disdain. "Oh, save it. You still have the nerve to lie to me? Just wait until I get home, Aaron. I'm going to make you pay for ruining my trip."
She hung up.
In her delusional mind, she probably believed I was keeping Frankie from meeting her. She couldn't conceive of a world where her desires weren't the only reality.
Julian and Valerie heard every word. They didn't speak, but their shoulders shook—trembling with pure, unadulterated fury.
The funeral was a blur of gray skies and black clothes. The real storm didn't begin until we returned to the Henson residence.
We walked through the front door—Julian and Valerie supporting each other while I carried the urn wrapped in black velvet.
That was when Bella finally appeared.
She had just arrived, still wearing her oversized sunglasses, looking every bit the high-society woman returning from vacation. When her gaze landed on the box in my hands, her expression twisted with disgust.
"Are you sick in the head?" she shrieked. "How dare you bring something so unlucky into this house? Are you trying to curse me?"
Before I could react, she rushed forward. No hug. No questions. She slapped the urn out of my hands.
Crash.
The ceramic shattered against the hardwood floor. Gray ash—the last earthly remains of our son—spilled out, scattering across the polished wood.
She didn't stop there. With the momentum of her rage, she swung her hand and cracked her palm across my face.
"You useless trash!"
Her manicured nails left a stinging, bloody scratch on my cheek.
Julian and Valerie stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide with horror.
"How could you..." Valerie whispered, her voice breaking. "Frankie's ashes..."
I cried out and dropped to my knees, scrambling frantically, scooping gray dust into my hands while ceramic shards bit into my skin. I forced my shoulders to heave, squeezing out fresh tears.
"Stop acting!" Bella screamed, looming over me. "You just want attention, don't you? You're so desperate you'd fake our son's death and bring this filth into my home? You're pathetic, Aaron. Cheap and pathetic!"
"Shut your mouth, you unfilial wretch!"
The roar came from Julian.
He crossed the room in two strides and delivered a backhand slap that echoed through the hall.
The force sent Bella stumbling back, her sunglasses clattering to the floor. She stared at her father, completely stunned.
"Dad?" She touched her cheek, eyes wide with confusion. "Why are you protecting Aaron? You hate him! You've always called him a useless coward!"
"I'm your daughter," she wailed, playing the victim instantly. "He's just an outsider!"
"I don't have a daughter like you!" Julian bellowed, his face turning a dangerous shade of purple. "While Aaron was doing everything he could to save Frankie, where were you? Frolicking with John Dickerson!"
Bella flinched at the name.
"You didn't care if Frankie lived or died," Julian continued, voice cracking. "And now you come home and scatter his ashes on the floor? Is that what a mother does? Do you have any idea how much Frankie suffered before he died?"
He broke down then, tears streaming freely.
"Why did you even come back?" Valerie sobbed, stepping forward. "Go! Run away with your precious John! Get out of my sight!"
They had always treated Frankie like a prince—doting on him, never raising their voices. Losing him was like having a piece of their hearts gouged out. Seeing Bella treat his remains with such callous disrespect broke something inside them.
"Dad, Mom, are you senile?" Bella stamped her foot, frustrated that her narrative wasn't working. "How can you let Aaron brainwash you like this?"
She turned her venomous glare on me, convinced this was an elaborate ruse I had orchestrated to humiliate her.
Valerie didn't argue. With a trembling hand, she pulled two documents from her purse—the death certificate and the cremation receipt.
"Read it," Valerie hissed, shoving the papers into Bella's chest. "Read it and tell me who's confused."
Bella grabbed the papers, movements jerky with anger. She scanned the first page.
The color drained from her face instantly.
I remained on the floor, head bowed over the pile of ash, hiding the dark, satisfied sneer curling my lips.
The show has finally begun.
