Harper POV
Eli sat across from me at the long mahogany table, exuding a practiced air of boredom.
He checked his Patek Philippe for the third time in five minutes, a gesture clearly meant to remind me that his time was money, and I was wasting it.
"Harper, this is ridiculous," he said, his tone flat. "Just sign the addendum. We don't need a divorce. We can live separate lives under the same roof. It's better for the company image."
He pushed a document toward me across the polished wood. It wasn't a divorce paper. It was a non-disclosure agreement.
He wanted to silence me. He wanted to lease my grief.
"I don't care about your image," I said. My voice was raspy, worn thin from screaming into my pillow for weeks. "I want out."
"You're being emotional," he said, leaning back in his chair with a dismissive sigh. "Think about the lifestyle you're giving up. You have no job. No family. Where will you go?"
Before I could answer, the front door slammed open downstairs.
The sharp, staccato rhythm of high heels clicking against marble echoed up the stairwell.
Florence swept into the room. Eli's mother. She looked impeccable in her Chanel suit, but her face was twisted in a scowl that could curdle milk.
"Is she still here?" Florence demanded, not even deigning to look at me. "I thought you were handling this, Eli."
"She's being difficult, Mother," Eli muttered, running a hand through his hair.
Florence turned to me then. Her eyes were cold, hard stones.
"You ungrateful girl," she spat. "My son gave you everything. A home. A life. And you repay him by trying to ruin his reputation over a bastard child?"
"He cheated on me," I said, my hands trembling on the table. "While our son was dying."
"Men stray," Florence waved her hand dismissively, as if swatting away a fly. "It is a wife's duty to look the other way. But you? You were always too weak. Too fragile. You couldn't even keep my grandson alive."
The air left my lungs as if I'd been punched.
"Don't," I whispered.
"It's the truth," Florence said, stepping closer. She loomed over me, smelling of expensive perfume and malice. "If you had been a better mother, Leo would still be here. Instead, you let him drown."
My phone buzzed on the table.
It vibrated against the wood, a harsh, jarring sound in the tense room.
I glanced down.
It was an anonymous email. The subject line was blank.
I shouldn't have opened it. Every instinct screamed at me to look away. But my hands moved on their own.
It was a video file.
I pressed play.
The screen showed the interior of a bathroom. I recognized the intricate mosaic tiles immediately. It was the master bathroom in this very house.
Kasey walked into the frame. She was holding a small, blue urn.
Leo's urn.
I stopped breathing. The world narrowed down to that tiny, glowing screen.
In the video, Kasey was laughing. She was on the phone.
"Yeah, she keeps it on the mantle like a shrine," Kasey said to whoever was on the other end, her voice dripping with mockery. "It's creepy. Eli hates it."
She popped the lid off the urn.
My heart hammered against my ribs so hard it felt like it might crack the bone.
"Let's clean up," Kasey giggled.
She walked to the toilet.
She tipped the urn.
Grey ash poured into the water. My beautiful boy. Reduced to dust. Falling into the bowl.
"No," I screamed. The sound tore out of my throat, raw and animalistic.
On the screen, Kasey flushed the toilet. The water swirled. My son's remains disappeared into the sewer.
"Oops," Kasey said to the camera, flashing a bright, cruel smile. "All gone."
I dropped the phone. It clattered onto the table.
I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see. Black spots danced in my vision.
"What is it now?" Eli asked, annoyed by my scream.
I pointed a shaking finger at the phone.
Eli picked it up. He watched the video. Florence leaned over his shoulder to watch with him.
Eli's face paled slightly. But he didn't look horrified. He looked inconvenienced.
"Kasey," he muttered, shaking his head. "That was... excessive."
"Excessive?" I choked out. "She flushed our son down the toilet, Eli! She desecrated his remains!"
"It's just ash, Harper," Florence said coldly. "Don't be dramatic. The boy is gone. Keeping dust in a jar was morbid anyway."
I looked at them.
I looked at the man I had married. I looked at the woman I had called mother.
They weren't human.
"You are monsters," I said. I stood up. My legs were shaking violently, but something inside me was solidifying. "All of you."
"Sit down, Harper," Eli commanded. "We can buy a new urn. We can put some sand in it. No one will know."
"I will know!" I screamed.
I lunged for him. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to make him feel a fraction of the agony ripping me apart.
Florence grabbed my arm. Her grip was like iron.
"Control yourself!" she barked.
Kasey walked into the room then. She must have been waiting in the hall, listening for her cue.
She saw the phone. She saw my face.
She smiled.
"Did you get my email?" she asked sweetly.
"You..." I gasped, struggling against Florence's grip. "Why?"
"Because there isn't room for two Mrs. Starks," Kasey said, inspecting her manicured nails. "And there certainly isn't room for a dead kid's ghost."
I felt a snap inside my head. A physical break.
The grief didn't vanish. It hardened. It turned into something cold and sharp, like a blade forged in ice.
I pulled my arm out of Florence's grip with a sudden, violent jerk.
I smoothed my shirt.
I looked at Eli.
"I'm done negotiating," I said. My voice was dead calm. Terrifyingly calm. "I'm taking everything. I will burn this house to the ground with you inside it."
Eli laughed. It was a dry, humorless sound.
"You have nothing, Harper. No money. No friends. No proof."
He deleted the email from my phone and tossed the device back to me. It slid across the table and stopped at my fingertips.
"Kasey, Florence," Eli said, adjusting his tie in the reflection of the window. "Show my wife out. I have a meeting."
He turned his back on me.
He walked away.
I watched him go.
I looked at Kasey. I looked at Florence.
"Eli," I said to his retreating back, my voice low and lethal. "Kasey. You will pay for your crimes. I swear it on my son's empty grave."
