---- Chapter 11 The grief was a physical weight, crushing Caleb. He spent days in a drunken stupor, the urn of Ericka's ashes his only companion. He kept replaying her last words on the phone. "I have a surprise for you, too." He would wake up from nightmares of her falling, her peaceful face as she sank into the dark water, and reach for a bottle. The doorbell rang, a shrill, intrusive sound. He ignored it. The door opened anyway. A figure was silhouetted in the doorway. For a wild, hopeful second, his alcohol-soaked brain thought it was her. Ericka. But it was Hailie. Disappointment and rage surged through him. He grabbed the nearest thing, a half-empty bottle of scotch, and hurled it at her. "Get out!" he roared. The bottle smashed against the wall next to her head. She flinched but didn't leave. She stepped inside, her eyes taking in his disheveled state, the mess in the room. "Caleb," she said softly, her voice full of a practiced concern ---- that now made his stomach turn. "| was so worried. Fitz said you weren't taking her death well." "Get. Out," he repeated, his voice a low growl. He blamed himself. But he blamed her more. She ignored him, stepping closer. "Caleb, | miss you." She reached for his hand. As her fingers brushed his, she saw the papers on the coffee table. The death certificate. Ericka's name was printed in stark black ink. A flicker of triumphant joy crossed her face before she could mask it with a look of sorrow. "Oh, Caleb," she murmured, her performance flawless. "I'm so sorry. But maybe... maybe it's for the best. Now we can be together, without her getting in the way." She reached up to touch his face. He slapped her. The sound echoed in the silent room. She stumbled back, her hand flying to her cheek, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. This was not how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to turn to her for comfort. "Caleb..." she whimpered. He grabbed her by the throat, his fingers digging into her soft skin, his face a mask of pure hatred. "You," he snarled. "It was ---- all you." She clawed at his hands, her eyes wide with terror. He held on until her face started to turn blue, then threw her to the floor. "Get out of my house," he hissed. "And don't ever let me see you again." She scrambled to her feet and fled, her sobs echoing behind her. The room was dark and quiet again. Caleb's phone rang. It was the cemetery manager again. "Mr. Skinner, I'm just calling to confirm the date Ms. Reid purchased her plot..." Caleb's mind flashed back to that day. Hailie had claimed Ericka was threatening them. But Ericka had bought the plot after crawling on her knees for hours, after he had abandoned her. She wasn't threatening them. She was giving up. Hailie had lied. About everything. He thought of the recording. The full, unadulterated truth. The rage returned, hotter and more focused than before. He knew what he had to do. He wasn't just going to make her pay. He was going to make her suffer. Exactly the way Ericka had.