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For a while, neither of us said a word.
And then darkness.
I tried to speak, but my throat was dry, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.
“She slit their mother’s throat, Olivia. And their father… never spoke again after that
night.”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t even look my way.
My voice came out hoarse. “You know, don’t you?”
My photos–everywhere.
My heart skipped. “What about her?”
“What you did at the table,” he said sternly, “should never happen again.”
Lennox, Louis, and Levi. All dressed in ceremonial white. All standing still, like statues carved from grief.
The ceremony had stopped. Murmurs filled the air. Somewhere in the blur, I heard
Damien’s voice before I even saw him.
How much longer can I pretend to be someone else–someone I’m not?
I swayed slightly on my feet.
I returned to my room, closed the door behind me, and let out a long, shaky breath. Dropping onto the bed, I pressed my palms to my face.
Damien let out an exasperated sigh, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face. “Relax, Darling,” he said, faking a concern that didn’t reach his eyes. He looked over his shoulder at someone I couldn’t see. “She’ll be fine. She always does this. Ever since she lost her parents, funerals make her faint… It’s a thing–she can’t handle it emotionally.”
“I deserve to know,” I pressed, louder this time. “I saw the hate in their eyes. I felt it. That kind of rage isn’t born out of nothing.”
I flinched when he slid an arm under my knees and the other behind my back. His grip
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was strong, almost gentle, but there was no warmth in it. He lifted me like I weighed nothing–like he’d done it a hundred times before.
1 stood there frozen.
I didn’t respond. I wasn’t in the mood to argue with him. I just stared past him at the wall.
A tense silence hung in the air as neither of us said a word. The air in the room was heavy–almost too heavy to breathe in. I could feel Damien’s presence just across the room, sitting on the couch with that familiar stiffness in his posture, like he was calculating his next move.
And there… just a few feet away, I saw them.
The moment Lennox took the handkerchief from me, I spun around and walked away before I did something reckless. Luckily, he didn’t call me back. I wasn’t sure what I
would’ve done if he had.
The pack was gathered–dressed in white, heads bowed, lips trembling. Some were crying. Real, heavy tears.
I woke up to a dull ache in my head and the cold feel of stone beneath my palms. My lashes fluttered as I tried to move, only to realize I was lying on the ground–on the floor of the garden.
Louis stood with his arms crossed tightly, jaw clenched like he was trying to hold himself together.
My head snapped toward him. “Hell no,” I snapped, my voice sharp. “You expect me to stand there and watch while they perform a funeral service for me when I’m still
alive?”
My head lolled against his chest as he turned away from the garden, the funeral chants fading behind us.
He left before I could say another word.
But I couldn’t join them.
Then everything spun.
Everything stopped in me when I saw it.
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But I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
Damien’s eyes darkened with frustration. He stepped closer, towering over me. “You don’t have a choice,” he said coldly. “You’re no longer Olivia. You’re Rebecca. And you’re my wife now. So act like one. You have ten minutes. Be downstairs.”
“I told you not to come,” he muttered, his voice low but sharp enough to sting. “But you insisted, didn’t you?”
The Elder began to chant, starting the first funeral ritual. Everyone lowered their heads, murmuring the ancient words of passing.
Olivia’s POV
There were flowers, white cloth draped from the trees, candles flickering in soft circles. A large framed photo of me stood at the center of the altar, with a golden
ribbon tied across it.
We walked through the corridor in silence, and then stepped out into the garden where the ceremony was being held.
Why did it take losing me for them to show it?
Before I could gather my thoughts, the door creaked open. Damien stepped inside
with a familiar scowl on his face.
I dressed quickly and made my way downstairs, my heart thudding in my chest. Damien was already waiting by the entrance. He didn’t speak, just gestured for me to
follow him.
The triplets.
He carried me up to the room we now shared, laid me on the bed with mechanical care. For a heartbeat, I braced myself for him to yell–ready to scream right back at him. But surprisingly, he didn’t. Instead, he moved to the couch and sat there across
from me.
But suddenly, he exhaled and leaned back slowly against the couch, tilting his head to the ceiling like he was debating how much truth to spill.
My chest ached. My body felt like it was going cold. The weight of it all, watching people mourn me while I stood among them–was too much.
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Shaking, I forced myself up and went to the wardrobe. My fingers trembled as I pulled out a white gown.
I sat up slightly, ignoring the pounding in my head. “Gabriel and his sister… they tried to kill me. And you know why.”
A long pause, and I thought he wouldn’t answer me at all.
I stared at him, stunned. “What…?”
“Don’t just stand there gawking,” Damien snapped at whoever was behind him. “Go back to the ritual. Show some respect.
He stood silently for a moment, then added, “You should get ready. We’re attending the first funeral ritual.”
The last thing I saw was Lennox’s face turning toward me–his eyes widening with
concern.
Levi’s hand covered his mouth, like if he opened it, the sob might escape.
Lennox’s face was blank, but his eyes told a different story. Red, puffy, broken.
I wanted to tell him to stop lying, to scream at him that none of this was normal–that none of this was me—but my lips wouldn’t move. I could feel eyes on me. Whispers. Murmurs of pity. They believed his lies.
Still, he was silent, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands loosely clasped.
Did they ever love me like this?
How much longer can I keep this up?
“It’s because of your mother,” he said finally, his voice low.
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