This marriage was already dead.
“The funeral? I don’t have time. And so what—it’s only your brother. Your parents are still alive. If you divorce me now, won’t that kill them from shame?”
I fell silent. She knew my parents well—too well. She thought she could control me because they hated the idea of divorce, because they’d prefer me to endure.
But she forgot—my life is mine alone.
“Olivia, you’d better make sure you understand whose brother really died.”
Standing at the entrance of the crematorium, watching the furnaces lined up for use, my voice was ice.
“If you have time, you’d better come this afternoon. At four o’clock, he’ll be cremated.”
She only sneered.
“I’m too busy making money. Who has time for such nonsense? Cremate him if you want. A funeral? Handle it yourself. He was short-lived anyway—just toss something together.”
The call ended abruptly.
So be it.
If she said there was no need for anything elaborate, then so it would be.
In life, even though his sister was worth millions, Daniel never even had a place of his own. He’d still been renting.
I had his belongings gathered and brought to my marital home with Olivia.
Even the funeral, I planned to hold in our marital home.
When everything was nearly ready, I stepped out to the store. But when I returned, I froze in shock.
The solemn white funeral had been turned into a carnival—lanterns and balloons hanging everywhere, the place decorated like a wedding hall.
The photo of Daniel I had just printed was punctured with pen marks and scribbled over with colored ink, his face unrecognizable.
The urn beside it was shattered into pieces, mixed with grains and flour.
My face twisted in fury.
“Who did this?”
The workers exchanged uneasy glances, none daring to speak.
Finally, the butler stepped forward.
“Sir, it was Ryan. He came here to collect some things, brought a group with him, and deliberately made this mess. He even said… it was at Ms. Carter’s request.”
I almost laughed in outrage and immediately called Olivia.
“Are you even human? This is your brother’s funeral. How could you let Ryan desecrate it like this?”
Before I could finish, Olivia’s cold voice came from behind me.
“Desecrate? I don’t think so.”
“I think it looks festive—cheerful, even.”
I spun around. Olivia stood there, hands in her pockets, a mocking smile curling at her lips.
I turned pale with anger.