Her eyes don’t flinch, her voice steady. “No lies, Widow. I don’t want a ‘what if’ lingering over our heads. We need to know—without doubt—that this is behind us.”
Then her voice dips lower, velvet over steel. “Because I want forever with you, Stella. I want to end every night tangled in your arms and wake to your hair draped across me in the morning. I want to fight with you, laugh with you, and build with you. I want to love you in every way there is to love a person—body, heart, and soul. And I can’t do that if ghosts are still between us. I won’t let them stand in our bed, at our table, or in our future. The only way forward is certainty. The only way forward is us.”
My lips curve despite the dread clawing at me. “You don’t get to promise me forever and then leave me wondering. Let’s look.”
My hand trembles as I grip the zipper of the black bag. I take a breath, not ready for what I’ll see. Elaine steps up behind me, her arms circling my waist, her hand steady over mine. “We’re in this together,” she whispers.
Slowly, we lower the zipper—just enough. The light catches on his riding jacket, the edge of a Cordova Linda football shirt beneath it, and the band of his wedding ring still on his finger. His face is lost in shadow, but it doesn’t matter. Those arehisthings. That’shim.
The sound that leaves me isn’t a scream, just a broken gasp that barely escapes. I turn into Elaine, burying my face againsther shoulder. She holds me tighter, her hands moving across my back as if she can smooth away what we just saw.
It’s him. It has to be.
“Look, baby. This was the plan. We knew the outcome. No more deadlines. No more wreckage hanging over us. Just us, and the life we get to claim. No one can take that now.”
Her voice is steady, her eyes unshaken—calm, collected, a queen in the firelight. I don’t know how she does it, how she holds it together when I feel undone.
“Okay.” My voice steadies against hers. “Let’s finish this.”
The furnace is still burning hot from the last cremation, heat radiating against the tiled walls. This is almost too easy, like fate left the door open for us. Elaine’s eyes meet mine, steady as ever.No one will question another run—it's the perfect cover. This is how cleaning is done.
My thoughts feel heavier than they should, echoing the role I choose. The Carringtons keep things tidy. No mess, no questions. Just fire, ash, and silence.
We grip the bag together, the weight dragging against the metal tray, and I force myself not to falter. The chamber yawns wide, flames already waiting. My stomach knots, but Elaine squeezes my hand once before we let go.
The fire swallows him whole.
I used to think fire was destruction. Now I know better. Fire keeps the ledger balances. Ash buries the truth. Silence belongs to me.
The chamber seals, locking away the last trace of him. The heat lingers, pressing against my skin, branding me, not with lies, but truths between Elaine and me. There’s no undoing this. Donovan Carrington is gone, and no one will ever know but us.
Stella
Elaine and I walk into the house, the air thick with an awkward heaviness that settles in my chest before I even take a breath. Blythe is curled in my father’s favorite chair, feeding Sage, her movements careful, deliberate, as if rocking her can rock the tension out of the room. Ansel paces restlessly across the carpet, chewing on her lip, shoulders tight like she’s bracing for a storm. Mac leans against the wall, arms crossed, his eyes locking onto mine the second I step inside. He doesn’t blink. He’s searching me, hunting for something in my expression that I will never give away.
Elaine breaks first, her voice slicing through the silence with practiced ease. “Who died? Why do you all look so glum?” She strides across the room and drops onto the couch like it belongs to her, her confidence filling the space the way smoke clings to curtains.
Mac clears his throat, shifting his weight like the words are heavy on his tongue. “I spoke with Donovan’s dad.” His voice is low, careful, the kind of tone people use when they know what they’re saying doesn’t sound real even to them. “He saidDonovan called him. He said he was leaving. Going to Buenos Aires, starting over.”
The words hang there, absurd and perfect all at once.
Ansel barks out a laugh, sharp and humorless. “So that’s it? Did he just vanish to South America without a goodbye? That’s his big exit strategy?” She throws her hands up, pacing faster now. “Whatever. Arrivederci. Go be a cheating bastard somewhere else.” Her voice cracks on the last word, and she swallows it down like it burns.
Blythe glances at me, her hand still rocking Sage, who stirs against her chest. Her eyes are soft but searching, and for a moment I almost look away. But I don’t. My face stays smooth, unbroken. Inside, the fire still lingers, alive and thrumming.Donovan didn’t leave for Buenos Aires. Donovan didn’t leave at all.
Elaine leans back on the couch, unbothered, her presence unshaken. Our truth isn’t for them. It never will be.
“Good for him,” I say, my voice steady, even. “I hope he finds the peace he’s been chasing.”
The room stills as I cross it without hesitation. Every step feels deliberate, heavy with choice. Elaine’s eyes never leave mine. When I reach her, she pulls me into her lap as if she’s been waiting for me all along. Her lips brush my neck, soft and sure, claiming me. A hush stretches through the room, broken only by the sound of Sage fussing against Blythe’s shoulder.
Mac exhales sharply and pushes off the wall, leaving without another word. His footsteps are clipped and brisk. Ansel follows, still muttering under her breath, until their voices dissolve into the familiar bickering down the hall. Blythe stays, humming low and sweet to soothe Sage back to calm, her gaze drifting toward us, unreadable but not unkind.
The house feels different now—quieter, heavier, but mine. The lies, the silence, the fire still smoldering inside me… all of it locked away where no one will ever touch it. Donovan is gone.
I look at the faces that remain—Elaine, warm and steady beneath me; Blythe, rocking her child with quiet strength; and Ansel, loud and restless even when she’s out of the room—the ones I love more than anything. For the first time, I understand. My life was built on a pile of lies, yes, but not out of cruelty. My parents lied to protect what was theirs. To protectme.
Now it’s my turn.
