“Why?” The word tears from my throat. “Why would you do that?”
Her eyes close, momentarily. “Money. The insurance. We were so poor, and they were going to leave me anyway and leave us with nothing.”
The room tilts around me. Memories of my fathers flash through my mind—Papa’s booming laugh, Dad’s gentle hands braiding my hair. The emptiness when Mother told us they’d abandoned us.
“How could you?” I whisper, feeling sick to my stomach. There was no way. She couldn’t.
“I was different then,” she says, her fingers scrabbling against mine as I pull my hand away. “Please, Francine. I need your forgiveness before I go. You understand me. You’re not like your sisters.”
I rip my hand from hers, standing so abruptly that the chair crashes to the floor behind me. “Understand you? I don’t knowyou at all. You were always hard to live with. And now I know you’re just plain evil.”
Her face crumples. “Please… Franny.”
“Don’t call me that. Papa used to call me that,” I spat, tears rolling down my face. “You took away the only people who truly loved us.”
“Francine, let me explain…” she blubbers as I back towards the door, not knowing what else to say to this murderous wretch who was my mother.
Sobs tear from my chest as I stumble down the hospital corridor. I hide in a bathroom stall, retching until there’s nothing left but dry heaves and the hollow knowledge that everything I believed about my family was a lie.
As soon as I regain my composure, I head back to Mother’s room, but there’s a crowd of nurses in there.
I suddenly look up at the monitors, and there’s a flat line letting out a long continuous tone.
“…and now we commit her body to the ground.” The priest’s voice drags me back to the present.
I blink, the brightness of day jarring after the dim hospital room of my memory. I take deep breaths to try to calm down. There’s nothing I can do to fix the past, I tell myself.
Around the grave, Carmen’s and Lena’s children fidget in their formal clothes, too young to understand the finality of what they’re witnessing. My sisters’ alpha mates hover protectively behind them, keeping their packs safe.
I’m the only one without a pack. But right now, that feels like a blessing. I can go home after this and be left alone for as long as I want.
I have my job atTiny Paws, my sister’s babysitting agency. And for now, that’s enough for me.
“Would any of Margaret’s daughters like to say a few words?” The priest looks at us expectantly, his expression professionally somber.
Carmen steps forward first, a single white rose clutched in her fist. She stands at the edge of the grave, her back straight as a rod.
“Mother wasn’t perfect,” she begins, her voice carrying on the wind. “Life was hard with her, harder than it should have been for three girls growing up.” She pauses, swallowing visibly. “But I believe, deep down, she cared for us in her own way. She wanted us to be strong, independent women. In that, at least, she succeeded. Bye, Mother.”
She drops the rose onto the casket. It lands with a soft thud, white petals stark against the black lacquer. The wind howls around us as Carmen returns to her place beside me, her expression grave as tears roll down her cheeks, crying for the first time.
Lena goes next, her steps unsteady. Her alpha, Damon, reluctantly releases her, his eyes never leaving her as she approaches the grave.
“Mother,” she starts, her voice breaking immediately. She takes a shuddering breath. “All you ever wanted was for us to be successful. I hope you’ve found peace now.”
She drops her rose and nearly collapses, saved only by Damon rushing forward to catch her. He guides her back, whispering in her ear, his arms a protective cage around her.
I remain motionless, my hands empty. No rose. No words.
Just the cold truth locked behind my heart.
Lena leans toward me, her voice thick with tears. “I know none of us were close to her, but please, Francine. Say something. Anything.”
I shake my head once, sharply.
Carmen turns to me, her eyes narrowed. “Weren’t you the closest to Mother? You’d better say something. You’re going to embarrass us.”
“You may be the boss of me at the business,” I snap, annoyed. “But you’re not the boss of my personal life. You’re not the one who had to stay with her for years.”
