"I just came back for my things. I'll be gone as soon as I have them. When you two get married? Don't bother telling me."
I turned toward my old room.
My father spat on the floor behind me. "Ungrateful brat. What the hell do you think you can take? Or did you come crawling back for your mother?"
My heart sank.
The urn I kept on my bedside table—was gone.
I spun around. He was holding it.
My blood ran cold. I lunged for it. "Give it back. That's my mother. You have no right to touch—"
Crash.
The ashes scattered across the floor like gray smoke.
My father roared, "I have no right? You dare talk to me like that?!"
Something inside me broke.
I shoved him hard. "She was your wife—your wife for decades! Do you have any humanity left?!"
That sent him over the edge.
He grabbed a whiskey bottle and smashed it over my forehead.
Another sharp, cracking sound.
Blood trickled down my face, soaking my blouse.
Moira screamed, "Declan, stop! You'll kill her!"
I blinked through my blurry vision and looked up at him.
He just stared at me, a flicker of something that looked like enjoyment in his eyes. No remorse.
Then he took out his phone, snapped a picture of my bleeding face, and made a call.
His voice dripped with saccharine courtesy. "Julian, Scarlett's throwing another tantrum. Don't worry, I handled it. Taught her a lesson—take a look at the photo."
"You two have been in this alliance for ten years, after all. And back then, it was all me. I was the one who made her dump you."
"But when you were shot in that firefight, it was Scarlett who—"
Julian cut him off coldly. "My survival had nothing to do with her. What did she do?"
My father faltered. "Right, right… but she did—"
Julian sighed. "You want money?"
My father's eyes lit up. "Yes, yes, those gambling debts—"
I could hear Cassidy's voice chime in on the line. "Julian, Scarlett isn't perfect, but don't drag her mother into this."
"You're always so kind," Julian said.
Then, the frost in his tone returned. "Mr. Connolly, if you want my money, have Scarlett come crawling back to beg for it herself."
Click.
My father cursed. "I beat you half to death, and he still doesn't care. Saving him back then was a complete waste!"
"I don't care what you have to do—get me some money! I'm drowning in debt. If you can't, I'll sell you to another outfit. It's that simple."
I felt nothing.
I just knelt, cupping the ashes and gently placing them back into the shattered urn.
Then I picked it up, held it tight, and walked out in silence.
