Chapter 2

Elena's POV

The reply came quickly — the paperwork would be expedited, and I'd be notified the moment everything was in order.

I wiped my tears, stood up, and prepared to visit Ethan's grave.

I'd barely reached the door when my parents blocked my way.

My mother seized my arm.

"Elena, where are you going?"

She paused, her tone suddenly tight.

"You're not going to cause trouble for Camille again, are you?"

My feet stopped dead.

The way she'd kept glancing at Julian during dinner —

It all clicked at once.

"Mom, did you already know?"

Her eyes flickered away, but her grip on my arm didn't loosen.

"Know what? You're always seeing things that aren't there."

"Suspecting Julian wasn't enough — now you suspect your own parents?"

I almost laughed.

"You've known all along that Camille had Julian's baby, haven't you?"

Her expression shifted, but she quickly dropped her voice.

"Elena, look at the life Julian has given you. Doesn't that tell you where his priorities are?"

"Besides, Julian has never changed toward you."

My father frowned.

"How many years has this been going on? Enough is enough."

I looked at the two familiar faces before me and suddenly felt like I was staring at strangers.

I had always believed that even if the whole world turned against me, my parents never would.

But here they were, standing on the side of the man who'd been destroying me.

"I'm going to see Ethan."

A flash of pain crossed her eyes, quickly suppressed.

"Ethan is gone. The living have to keep moving forward."

"You can't spend the rest of your life holding on to a dead child."

I stared at her.

She seemed to decide she might as well say it all.

"Yes, we've known about their child for a while."

"But the baby's already born — what can anyone do about it?"

"The child is innocent. You can't punish a baby for its father's sins."

She looked at me.

"You're a grown woman, Elena. You're his wife. Can't you show a little grace?"

It was like a knife twisting between my ribs.

I wanted to visit my own child — her grandson.

And her first instinct was to worry I'd go make a scene with my husband's mistress.

In the end, somehow I — the one who'd been betrayed — was the unreasonable one.

I forced the fury down.

"Mom, are you finished?"

Without waiting for her answer, I walked straight out the door.

By the time I reached the cemetery in Westchester, dusk had already fallen.

I'd just arrived at the grave when a staff member hurried toward me.

"Ms. Ashford, you're finally here."

He gave me a polite nod.

"Are you here to sign today?"

My hand, mid-wipe across the photograph, froze.

"Sign what?"

He looked just as confused.

"The request to relinquish the burial plot."

"Mr. Cross submitted the request two months ago."

My head snapped up.

The man paused, then continued.

"Mr. Cross said the child has been gone for so many years, and he felt that keeping the grave was preventing you from moving on."

"The grandparents said the family needed to stop living in the past, especially with a new baby here now. So they agreed."

"However, since the plot is registered under your family trust, formal cancellation requires your personal signature. We couldn't proceed without your authorization."

For a second, I couldn't feel my hands.

"Then why today, of all days?"

The staff member blinked.

"Mr. Cross said today marks the anniversary of his death, and that you come every year."

"He thought it would be convenient for you to sign while you're here."

"He also said you and he had already discussed it."

"That's complete bullshit."

I looked down at the headstone.

Ethan was so small in the photograph—so small he'd barely had a chance to see the world.

So this was what they meant by "moving forward." Embrace Camille's child.

And erase every sign that Ethan had ever existed.

What made it even more absurd —

Julian had calculated, with perfect certainty, that I would come today.

The rage I'd suppressed for so long finally caught fire.

"From today on, any changes to this plot go through me and me alone."

"Without my consent, no one touches it."

The staff member was about to respond —

When a familiar voice came from behind me.

"Elena."

Footsteps, drawing closer.

"Haven't you caused enough of a scene already?"