I walked away, leaving him and his hollow promises behind. The air was cold, but for the first time in years, I felt free. No more waiting. No more sacrificing pieces of myself for someone who didn’t deserve them.
I glanced back one last time, not at Scott, but at my mother’s grave.
No more Scott in my life...
I was halfway to the cemetery gates when my phone rang. The cemetery manager’s frantic voice cracked through the line, trembling with panic. “Miss Ariana, someone’s... someone’s digging at your mother’s grave!”
The air seemed to vanish from my lungs. My mother—my gentle, selfless mother—had endured so much heartache and had given me everything without asking for anything in return. Even in death, she deserved peace. I turned on my heel and ran back, my legs pumping harder with every word replaying in my mind.
She had been my rock after my father’s death, her mateless heart never wavering in its devotion to me. Even when she was diagnosed with heart disease, she never let the weight of her illness darken my life. Her last wish had been simple: “Don’t engrave my name. Just write, ‘May my daughter live a safe and happy life.’” And now, that wish was being trampled on.
I reached her grave and froze.
Winona Lei stood there, flanked by her ever-loyal followers. Two wolfguards were already knee-deep in the earth, shoveling dirt from my mother’s resting place. The urn containing her ashes lay discarded like trash on the side, replaced by another. Winona’s dog.
“What are you doing?!” I screamed, my voice hoarse with rage as I rushed toward them.
Winona stepped back, feigning innocence, her hands resting lightly on Scott’s arm. “This is my baby’s new home,” she said sweetly, her syrupy tone cutting like broken glass. “The inscription fits so well, doesn’t it? I’m sure you don’t mind sharing, Ariana.”
My hands curled into fists, nails biting into my palms. “You dare—” I grabbed a shovel from one of the wolfguards and began to undo their desecration.
“Ariana, stop!” Scott’s voice thundered as he pulled the shovel from my hands. His touch burned, not from heat but from betrayal.
“How could you let this happen?” I demanded, my voice cracking. My hands hit the soil, clawing at the earth with raw desperation. My mother’s urn was still there. I had to save it.