SULLIVAN
TWO YEARS EARLIER
The song’s ended.
Its notes drift out of the church behind us as we exit into the graveyard. It was one of his favorites, played to a montage of photographs and video clips. Seeing those familiar blue eyes was like a knife straight to my heart.
I can’t believe he’s gone.
I can’t believe they’re both gone.
All that surrounds us now is the sound of rain hammering on polished wood, accompanied by Sinclair’s soft cries. A haunting symphony that will keep me awake at night. Something to keep the sounds of explosions and raging flames burning through flesh company.
My father steps toward the twin graves and drops a handful of earth on top of my brother’s.
“No!” Sinclair sobs, burying her face into my shirt and clinging to me.
I wrap an arm around her, my hand skating up and down her back. Each vertebra of her spine juts out through her clothing in jagged hills and valleys. She’s a walkingskeleton, too consumed by grief to eat. I slant the umbrella, trying to block out the rain.
“It’s nearly over, okay?” I say, pressing my lips to her blonde hair.
She shudders, letting out a whine that causes another part of me to curl up and die deep inside. I hold her tight, searching for strength in the deep pull of air I drag into my lungs.
My father takes off his ring and drops it into the grave. Uncle Mal stares at his sister’s casket, before moving to my father’s side and placing a hand on his back. He purses his lips, deep lines etched into his brow as the rain slides down it.
They’re both soaked to the core. But they don’t notice.
They’re numb. We’re all numb.
I meet my father’s eyes as Sinclair’s cries gain momentum. “I’m going to take her to wait in the car, Dad.”
“All right, Son. I’ll come soon.”
I lead Sinclair past the black-dressed crowd of mourners, nodding at the ones that catch my eye as I pass. They’re all wearing similar expressions of disbelief and loss. My mother and brother were loved. Respected. They had friends. They had us.
We were the Beauforts. New York’s wealthiest family. Running our empire. One steeped in value and brilliance. Pioneers of our craft.
Beaufort Diamonds, almost as beautiful as the person wearing them.
Our company motto.
Our family’s legacy.
What are we now, except broken? An empty husk of something that was once whole and magnificent.
My fiancée, Claudia, stares at me from amongst the sea of faces, concern spilling out with her tears. She wipes at her cheeks; the giant Beaufort diamond a glittering beacon on herfinger. The way she’d smiled when I opened that ring box; I didn’t even make it onto one knee before she was pulling it from the velvet and sliding it on with a squealed,Yes!
She tries to give me a reassuring smile. But it does nothing to ease my pain.
“Fuck,” I mutter as Sinclair stumbles beside me, jerking on my arm.
My grip loosens on the umbrella, ready to toss it and grab her. But she’s already straightening up, her eyes snagging on the face of my father’s head of security, Denver, as he helps her straighten up and asks if she’s okay.
“Thanks, Denver,” I say.
He flicks a cursory nod my way, before his attention immediately returns to my sister.
“Are you okay?” he asks, unwilling to let her go from his grasp.
