"Are you sure you're okay?" I ask.
"I'm fine."
"You don't have to be fine right now."
"Fucking goddammit. Sometimes you just don’t listen! I told you I’m not going to fall apart, and I mean it. But apparently, you need me to. Sorry. Not happening. Let me make this crystal fucking clear so you really hear me. I don't want to talk about this. Let. It. Go."
I don't like his tone. Not one bit. But this isn't about me and loss can make people act out in ways they otherwise would not. So I don't push. I just sit there in the passenger seat, watching the dark streets pass by, wondering how we're going to tell a seventeen year old girl that she’s an orphan now.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
JULIE
The funeral is heldat St. James Cathedral, a massive stone building in downtown Seattle that can seat over a thousand people. Dean would have wanted something grand. Something that made a statement. He’s certainly getting it with this.
The pews are packed. Business executives in dark suits. Politicians. Tech moguls. People whose names I recognize from the news. The front rows are reserved for family, which means Asher, Devon and me. We sit in the first pew on the left side, Devon between us.
She's wearing a black dress that fits perfectly, tailored and expensive. Longer than the one she was in the night I met her, but not by much. Her hair is pulled back in a low bun, her face pale and blank. She hasn't cried since we picked her up from the mansion the night they died. I suspect she's in shock.
Asher sits rigid beside her, his jaw tight. He's wearing a black suit, white shirt, black tie. He looks like he's carved from stone. People keep approaching him before the service starts, offeringcondolences, shaking his hand. He responds with the same flat "thank you" each time, his expression never changing.
I watch him from Devon's other side, trying to understand what's happening inside his head. His father is dead. The man who controlled every aspect of his life is gone. And his son looks like he's attending a board meeting.
The service begins. A priest speaks about Dean's accomplishments, his philanthropy, his vision. He doesn't mention that Dean was cruel. That he dismissed grief as weakness. That he married a woman in secret and excluded his own son and her daughter from the ceremony. Devon's hands are folded in her lap. She doesn't move. Doesn't react. Just stares straight ahead.
When the eulogies begin, Asher stands and walks to the podium. I didn't know he was planning to speak. He pulls a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket and smooths it out on the lectern.
"My father was a genius," he begins. His voice is steady, professional. "He built our company from the ground up. He was brilliant, driven, and uncompromising in his vision. He taught me that success requires sacrifice. That weakness is a choice. That family is both a responsibility and a legacy.”
He pauses, looking down at the paper. Then he folds it back up. "He was my father," Asher says quietly. "We’ll all miss him." He walks back to the pew and sits down. Devon reaches for his hand, and he lets her take it.
After the service, there's a reception at a hotel ballroom downtown. More people. More condolences. More handshakes and hollow words. Devon stays close to Asher, her hand on his arm, her face still blank. I stand beside them, playing the role of supportive wife, smiling when appropriate, thanking people for coming.
By the time the reception ends, it's nearly six in the evening. We drive to Dean's mansion to pick up some more of Devon's things. She's sitting in the back seat, staring out the window. Asher drives, his hands tight on the wheel.
"We need to start making arrangements to move into my father's house now that the funeral is behind us," Asher announces.
It’s like he just shot a cannon into the car. I swear my ears are ringing from shock. "I'm sorry, what?"
"There are three of us now. If we move into the big house, there's more space. It makes sense."
Our house is nearly four thousand square feet. We have plenty of room. I turn to face him fully. "Why would we move into your father's house?"
"Because I'm now the CEO of one of the biggest companies in the world. Because there's more space. Because Devon's already settled there. Her things are there. It would be easier for her."
Unease ripples up my spine. What he just said about being the CEO, the way he said it, was very disconcerting.
"Asher, I'm not moving into that... that goddamn thing."
He glances at me, surprised. "Why not?"
"Because it's cold and massive and imposing. It's too big. I don't want to live there."
"It's just a house, Julie."
"It's notjusta house. It's an ugly-as-hell behemoth and I don't want to live in it. Not only that,I won't. This is not negotiable."
