---- Chapter 5 Amira Osborne POV: They showed up at my mother' s funeral. Carter and Francine walked into the quiet, somber chapel as if they had every right to be there. Francine, dressed in a ridiculously flamboyant black hat, had the audacity to approach me, her face a mask of sorrow. "Amira, | am so, so sorry for your loss' she murmured, placing a hand on my arm. The touch felt like a brand. | recoiled, my voice dripping with ice. "l hope you die screaming, Francine." Her smile faltered for a second. Carter stepped in, his face tight with disapproval. "Amira, that' s enough. Have some class." "Class?" | laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "You want to talk about class after what you two did?" "Francine was just being her usual, blunt self. You' re too sensitive," he said, dismissing my pain with a wave of his hand "Get out," | said, my voice low and shaking with rage. "Both of you. Get out of my mother' s funeral." ---- He had the nerve to look offended. "I'm not going anywhere. Edie was going to be my mother-in-law. | have a right to be here." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper. "And if you keep making a scene, | promise you, there won' t be a wedding to worry about at all." My eyes burned. | was about to tell him | didn' t give a damn about the wedding, about him, about any of it. | was about to unleash the plan that had been forming in the back of my mind, the escape route Arjun had given me. But | never got the chance. Francine let out a sudden, theatrical shriek. She stumbled backward, bumping into the small table that held my mother ' s portrait and her urn. Time seemed to slow down. | watched in horror as the table tipped, as the urn containing my mother' s ashes tumbled through the air, as her smiling face in the photograph crashed to the marble floor. The urn shattered. My mother' s ashes, mixed with the fine gray dust of the broken pottery, scattered across the cold, unforgiving floor. A strangled cry escaped my lips. "Mom!" | fell to my knees, scrambling to scoop up what was left of her, my fingers digging into the gritty dust, tears blurring my vision. ---- Francine just stood there, a hand pressed to her mouth in a mockery of shock. She didn' t move to help. Carter, held back by Francine' s grip on his arm, didn' t move either. "Don't go near it, darling," | heard her whisper to him. "It's bad luck." He listened to her. He actually listened. Instead of helping me, he grabbed the small brass basin used for burning memorial papers, strode over to the mess, and began scooping my mother's ashes into it with a dustpan. Then, he walked out of the chapel and dumped the entire thing-ashes, pottery shards, and all-into the nearest trash can. | stared at him, my mind reeling. He was her dog. A well- trained pet who obeyed her every command, no matter how cruel or nonsensical. My voice came out as a strangled whisper, filled with more venom than | knew | possessed. "You are nothing but her pathetic little dog." His head snapped toward me. And then he did something | never, ever thought he was capable of. He slapped me. The force of it sent my head whipping to the side, my cheek stinging with a fiery pain. The chapel fell silent, the air thick with the shocked gasps of the few remaining mourners. ---- | stood there, stunned into silence, the world tilting on its axis. He had a moment of panic, of regret in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a cold defensiveness. "There were embers in the basin," he said, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "It could have started a fire. | was protecting everyone." He was lying. He was twisting his monstrous act into one of heroism. And in that moment, | knew. There was nothing left to save.