Chapter 199

[ 967 words ]

Emilia’s POV

Sebastian held me for what felt like hours. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to fix it with empty words. He just held me.

Eventually the sobs quieted. My breathing evened out. The raw edge of the grief dulled into something I could carry.

Sebastian pulled back just enough to see my face. His thumb brushed my cheek, wiping away the last of the tears. His eyes dropped to the letter still in my hand, the golden script glowing faintly against the paper.

“You saw it,” he said quietly. “Your mother’s message.”

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak. Then it came out in a whisper. “She loved me so much.”

Sebastian cupped my face in both hands, making me meet his eyes. “And now you have me,” he said. “You have my whole family. My mother adores you. Tiffany won’t shut up about how cool you are. Even my father respects you. You’re not alone anymore, Emilia. You’ll never be alone again.”

I threw my arms around his neck and buried my face in his shoulder. “I know,” I whispered. “I know.”

He held me a while longer, then scooped me up and carried me to the sofa. He came back from the bathroom with a warm, damp towel, knelt in front of me, and wiped my face. When he was done, he pressed a glass of water into my hand.

“Drink.”

I did. The cool water soothed my raw throat, and some of the tightness in my chest eased.

He sat beside me and waited, saying nothing.

I set the glass down and took a breath. “I want to let them go.”

His head turned toward me. “What?”

“Dorothy and Linda.” I looked down at my hands. “I want to stop. The revenge, all of it. I want to let them go.”

His jaw tightened. “No.”

“Sebastian.”

“They haven’t suffered nearly enough for what they did to you.” His voice was hard. “Three days at a grave? That’s nothing. They deserve worse.”

“I know.” I looked up at him. “But I’m tired. I’ve been carrying this anger for more than ten years, and it’s heavy. I don’t want to carry it anymore.”

His green eyes searched mine. “They killed your mother. They made your life hell. And you just want to forgive them?”

“Not forgive.” I shook my head. “I’ll never forgive them. But I want to move on. My mother said she wanted me to live peacefully. Happily. And I can’t do that while I’m still drowning in hate.”

He stared at me for a long moment, then let out a sharp breath and dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t like this.”

“I know.”

“They don’t deserve your mercy.”

“I know that too.”

His jaw worked. “But if this is what you want.”

“It is.”

“Then I’ll respect it.” He took my hand and laced his fingers through mine.

The next morning, we drove to the cemetery.

The sun was just coming up, throwing long shadows across the headstones. The air was cool and damp, the kind of quiet that made the whole place feel like it was holding its breath.

Dorothy and Linda were where we’d left them, kneeling at my mother’s grave, their clothes filthy, their faces pale and drawn. They looked like they hadn’t slept. One of Sebastian’s guards stood a few feet off, arms crossed, watching them.

When they saw us, Linda scrambled up. Dorothy rose slower, wincing as her knees cracked.

I stopped a few feet away and crossed my arms.

Sebastian stepped forward and tossed something at Linda’s feet. A black card, sleek and heavy, skidded across the dirt and stopped in front of her.

“That’s from your sister,” he said coldly. “Out of kindness. Take the money and get out of Silverlake City. If I ever see either of you here again, you’ll regret it.”

Dorothy bent and snatched up the card with shaking hands, clutching it to her chest. “What about Henry?”

Sebastian’s lip curled. “Don’t be greedy. If your husband walks away clean, how is the woman in that grave supposed to rest?”

Linda opened her mouth to argue, but Dorothy pinched her arm hard enough to make her flinch, and she shut it.

Dorothy bowed her head. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you, Emilia.”

I didn’t answer. I just watched them struggle to their feet and limp toward the cemetery gates until they were gone.

Then I turned back to the headstone.

The marble was clean, the engraving still sharp. Tanya Lorris. Beloved Mother.

I laid my hand on the cold stone.

“It’s over, Mom,” I said softly. “They’re gone. You can rest now.”

The tears came again, but this time they were quiet. I let them fall and didn’t try to stop them.

“If I were you,” Sebastian said behind me, still not satisfied, “I wouldn’t have let them off that easy.”

I looked back at him over my shoulder and gave him a small smile. “I know you’re trying to avenge me. But I’m done. Maybe I did let them go too easily. I just want a clear conscience now.”

“But—”

“Enough.” I brushed the dirt. “Didn’t you say you had something to tell my mother last time? Say it now.”

His eyes narrowed. “Cover your ears.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Cover your ears.”

“Why? You’re talking to my mother because of me, aren’t you? I should get to hear it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He crossed his arms. “Just cover your ears.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I don’t want to hear your sappy speech anyway.”

I turned around and made a big show of pressing my hands over my ears. Of course, I left just enough space to catch every word.

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