Chapter 4

Before the press conference, I was forbidden from leaving the villa.

I didn't make a scene. I didn't argue.

I just told myself, over and over, to get through today.

At two in the afternoon, I sat beside Ethan and read the PR script word for word.

Camera flashes fired nonstop from the audience. Ethan smiled and held my hand the entire time.

To everyone watching, he was still the picture of devotion. But my palm was slick with cold sweat.

The moment the conference ended, Ethan stood and walked toward Lily, who was waiting at the side of the stage.

I didn't watch them.

I left the venue alone, stopped at a flower shop, bought a bunch of white chamomile, and drove to St. Anne Memorial Hall.

It had been so long since I'd visited Mom and Dad. I kept telling myself I'd go once things settled down, and we'd have a proper talk.

I waited and waited, and almost waited until it was too late forever.

When I reached Section F, Row 3, Compartment 7, I froze.

The two white jade urns were gone.

In their place sat a pot of brilliantly blooming red roses.

I thought I'd gone to the wrong spot, so I checked the number again and again.

No mistake. My parents' ashes had been here for a full ten years.

I knew every compartment number by heart.

I stood there for a long time, then turned to find a staff member.

"Sir, what happened to the ashes in Section F, Row 3, Compartment 7?"

The middle-aged man in the duty office didn't even look up.

"Oh, that spot. The boss's wife reserved it for growing flowers. The ashes? Probably got moved somewhere. I don't know."

"Moved?" My voice went cold. "I pay the maintenance fee every year. Don't you need to notify me before moving anything? Get your supervisor out here. Now."

He finally looked up, a mocking smile on his face.

"Our boss's wife is Mrs. Ethan Grant of Grant Group. Who do you think you are?"

Mrs. Grant?

But when had I ever...

The chamomile slipped from my hand and hit the floor.

I rushed back to Row 3, Compartment 7, searching frantically.

There was nothing.

As I turned to leave, I tripped over the flowerpot. Soil scattered across the ground.

Poking out from the dirt was a small shard of white jade.

I crouched down and picked it up. Carved into the fragment was a single word: "Reed."

It was from the urn that held my father's ashes.

A hand shoved me hard.

"What do you think you're doing? That flower was placed here by Ms. Hart. You break it, can you afford to pay for it?"

I stumbled, watching him scoop the soil—mixed with shards of white jade—back into the pot.

My voice shook beyond my control. "My parents' ashes... became fertilizer for this flower?"

He didn't answer directly. He just mumbled, "Being a good child when they're alive—that's what counts. What's the point of all these formalities after they're gone? Ashes are ashes no matter where you put them..."

I didn't stay to hear the rest. I turned and left.

The whole way back, my mind was blank.

Until I returned to the villa, pushed open the bedroom door, and saw Lily Hart lying in my bed.

That was when my consciousness snapped violently back into my body.

Ethan glanced at me, gently tucked the blanket around her, and spoke as if it were nothing.

"After the press conference, people online still weren't buying it. The comments section was brutal. She was in a bad way, so I brought her here to keep an eye on her."

I looked at that entitled expression on Ethan's face.

When I spoke, my own voice sounded like a stranger's. Calm. Too calm.

"Ethan. Where are my parents' ashes?"