That night, I didn’t sleep.

I sat on the edge of the bed in a house that no longer felt like mine. Not because anything had changed physically, but because something inside it had already been taken away.

Eventually, I started packing and by morning, every box was ready. I called a courier and had everything sent out. Designer clothes, jewelry, gifts I had once thought meant something. Now they just felt like proof of how long I had been living inside a lie.

When the courier arrived, he hesitated at the boxes.

“Miss, are you sure?” he asked. “The destination says incineration.”

“Yes,” I said. “I don’t want any of it anymore. Just process it.”

He looked uncomfortable, but I didn’t care. Because those things were not memories anymore. They were weight. And I couldn’t carry weight from a life that had already been erased.

As he left, my phone rang.

My father.

The moment I answered, I heard panic in his voice. People shouting behind him.

“Celeste,” he said, struggling to breathe, “they’re trying to take your brother’s grave.”

My body went still.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

His voice broke. “They came with documents. They said the burial plot has been reassigned. I tried to stop them, but they pushed me aside. I can’t hold them back.”

There was a pause, then his voice cracked again. “He’s gone, and now they won’t even let him stay where he is.”

I was already moving before he finished speaking.

“I’m coming,” I said.

And I left.

---

When I arrived, the cemetery felt wrong immediately.

Men in black suits stood near the burial area. Security types. Cold faces. Blocking access like it was a restricted site instead of a resting place.

My father was on the ground nearby, struggling to get up. He still held the urn tightly against his chest.

I rushed to him and knelt.“Dad, who is doing this?”

His hands shook violently as he pointed ahead.

There, Astrid stood near the graves, slightly bent as she placed something down beside her. A small wrapped box. A dead cat. She was wiping her eyes carefully, like she had practiced the movement in front of a mirror.

My father’s voice broke again. “She said she needed the burial site. She said her pet died, and this was the closest available place. They told us to move.”

Something inside me tightened so hard it hurt.

I stood up slowly.

“Explain this to me,” I said. “You took my brother’s grave for a cat?”

Astrid turned.

And just like before, her expression changed immediately. Soft. Fragile. Controlled.

“Celeste,” Astrid said, her voice gentle, “you’re misunderstanding. I didn’t take anything from you. I was given permission for this space.”

She stepped slightly closer.

“I didn’t know it belonged to someone you cared about. I only found out after everything was arranged.”

Then her gaze shifted to my father and then to the urn in his hands. A faint smile touched her lips.

“Is that an urn?” she asked softly. “another stunt?”

My father stiffened.

Astrid tilted her head slightly.

“And honestly,” she continued, “I don’t understand why you’re making this so dramatic. It’s just a burial spot. People die every day.”

My hands curled into fists.

“You’re standing in front of my brother’s grave! And you’re calling it just a spot.”

“Celeste,” Astrid said, “you’re still doing this. You’re still trying to turn everything into a scene so Rocco will pay attention to you.”

My jaw tightened.

“That has nothing to do with this,” I said.

But she kept going. Her voice sharpened.

“I saw the video too,” she said. “And honestly, I didn’t see what you’re claiming. It looked consensual. Both our brothers are having fun in bed and you’re pushing a narrative that doesn’t match reality.”

My vision blurred for a moment. Not from tears. From restraint.

I stared at her, trying to understand how someone could stand in front of a grieving family and speak like that.

Is she real? Or is this what happens when someone learns there are no consequences anymore?

My nails dug into my palms.

I wanted to hit her! I wanted to scream until my voice broke. But instead, I pulled out my phone and called the cemetery office.

“I want the records for this burial plot,” I said. “And I want the person who approved the reassignment on the line.”

...

After a few minutes, the manager arrived.

The manager listened carefully after I explained everything, and for once, he didn’t hesitate or try to stay neutral.

He stepped forward and looked directly at Astrid.

“Miss, I understand your situation, I really do,” he said firmly. “But all burial plots here are booked in advance and assigned legally. We can’t just move someone else’s arrangement for personal reasons.”

He paused, then added more strictly, “If you need an urgent burial, we can offer alternative sections. Our staff will help you choose another space immediately. But this specific grave cannot be taken.”

Astrid’s face shifted fast.

She pressed a hand to her chest like she was wounded.

“But my cat just died,” she said softly, her voice shaking on purpose. “I didn’t know it would become such a problem. I didn’t come here to fight anyone. I just want to bury something I loved.”

She looked at me next, eyes glossy but sharp underneath.

“Celeste,” she added, “you’re really going to treat me like this over a dead pet? Don’t you think that’s a little cruel? I didn’t do anything to you.”

I didn’t even fully look at her at first.

I just walked forward and carefully lowered my brother’s urn into the prepared space.

My hands trembled, but I didn’t stop.

“You keep saying words like cruel,” I said quietly. “But you keep standing in the middle of other people’s graves like you belong here.”

I looked up at her fully now.

“So tell me,” I added, my voice low, “who exactly is being cruel here?”

Her expression tightened instantly. She opened her mouth, then closed it again like she didn’t expect me to push back.

And then she suddenly swayed, her knees buckled.

And she collapsed right there.

A small gasp went through the staff.

Before I could even react properly, the air changed again. Heavy footsteps.

Rocco.

His voice came first.

“Get that filth out of this cemetery.”

My chest clenched so hard it hurt.

Filth.

He walked straight to Astrid like everything else didn’t exist. Like the ground I was standing on wasn’t even real to him.

He bent down and lifted her into his arms.

My hands curled into fists so hard my nails cut into my skin.

I stepped forward fast, blocking the bodyguards before they could move toward my brother’s urn.

“Don’t you touch that,” I said, my voice shaking but firm. “Don’t you dare take it.”

One of them hesitated, but Rocco didn’t even look at them.

He just spoke again.

“Move her,” he said coldly. “And take whatever is disturbing this place out of my sight.”

My heart dropped.

I turned to him fully now.

My voice broke, but I forced it out anyway.

“Rocco,” I said, “do you even know what is inside that urn?”

I swallowed hard and added again, louder, “That’s my brother. My 22 year old brother.”

But he didn’t even flinch.

He stood there holding Astrid like she weighed nothing. Like I was the one making noise for no reason.

“And?” he said flatly. “Why would I care about your story right now?”

My breath caught.

“Celeste, you keep doing this. You keep creating scenes around Astrid.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “You are the one turning everything into a mess.”

I stared at him like I didn’t recognize him anymore.

“A mess?” I whispered. “My brother was drugged. He was raped. And you’re calling it a mess?”

That finally made something flicker in his expression. But not guilt— annoyance.

Before I could say anything else, he lifted his hand slightly. The bodyguards moved immediately and they pulled the urn out.

“No!” I screamed, rushing forward. “Stop it, that’s my brother!”

My father shouted too, voice breaking. “Don’t you dare! That’s my son!”

But they ignored us. They opened it and poured everything out right onto the ground.

I froze.

No, no, no!

My brain refused to understand what I was seeing at first then it hit me all at once.

Ashes— my brother’s ashes spilling into dirt!

My father collapsed beside me, screaming and crying, trying to scoop it back with his bare hands.

“Please… please no!” he sobbed. “That’s my boy… that’s my boy!”

But they shoved him away. One of them even stepped on the ashes like it was nothing at all. Like a mistake they were erasing.

My vision blurred completely. I turned to Rocco again.

My voice barely worked. “Do you understand what you just did?” I whispered. “That is my brother. That is all I have left of him.”

He finally looked at me properly now and laughed.

“Your brother,” he repeated, like it was ridiculous. “Celeste, stop embarrassing yourself.” He shook his head slightly. “I knew you would go this far,” he said. “Faking death, faking grief, just to get my attention.”

My stomach dropped.

“You’re sick,” I whispered.

He didn’t react. Instead, he adjusted Astrid in his arms and turned slightly away.

“And listen carefully,” he added, voice low and final. “If you keep lying, I won’t ignore it next time.” Then he walked away with her.

The moment he disappeared, my legs gave out.

I dropped to my knees. My hands reached into the dirt, shaking, trying to gather something that could never be gathered again.

My father was beside me, crying so hard he couldn’t even breathe properly anymore.

…

The next morning, a series of hard knocks rattled the front door.

I froze where I was standing.

For a brief moment, a sick thought crossed my mind. Maybe they had come back. Maybe yesterday hadn't been enough.

When I opened the door, several bodyguards were standing outside.

The sight alone made my stomach sink.

They weren't there to visit. They weren't there to negotiate.

They were there to deliver an order.

“What do you want now?” I asked. “I've already stepped aside. I've already lost my marriage, my career, and my brother. What else could you possibly take from me?”

The man standing in front answered without hesitation. “Mr. Thornton sent us. Miss Snow is hosting a birthday celebration tonight, and your attendance is required.”

A bitter laugh escaped me.

Required.

That was a polite way of saying I had no choice.

“I don't attend parties I'm not invited to,” I said. “And I certainly don't attend parties hosted by people who have spent months destroying my life.”

The bodyguard's expression didn't change.

“Miss Snow specifically requested your presence. The guest list has already been finalized, and Mr. Thornton expects your cooperation.”

I looked at him for several seconds.

“And if I don't cooperate?”

The answer came immediately.

The man lifted his hand.

Two bodyguards pushed past me and grabbed my father.

“Dad!” I shouted.

My father stumbled backward in shock.

He still looked exhausted from everything that had happened. His shoulders seemed permanently bent now, as though grief had settled onto his back and refused to leave.

Seeing strangers put their hands on him made something twist violently inside my chest.

“Let him go,” I said.

Nobody moved.

The bodyguard spoke calmly. “If you refuse to attend, we can bring your father instead. Either way, Miss Snow will have the guest she requested.”

I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw hurt.

“You know he's done nothing to you. You know he's suffered enough already.”

“That isn't my decision,” the man replied. “Our instructions were very clear.”

Tears burned behind my eyes.

Rage.

Fear.

Humiliation.

All of it mixing together until I could barely breathe.

“I'll go,” I said finally. “I'll attend the party. Just let him go and leave him out of this.”

Only then did they release him.

The entire drive to the venue felt less like transportation and more like an escort.

Not for a guest.

For a prisoner.

---

The event was already in full swing when I arrived.

The moment I stepped inside, I saw them. Astrid and Rocco stood at the center of the room, surrounded by people eager to win their attention. Astrid barely resembled the woman I had met years ago.

Back then she had dressed simply. She had been awkward and forgettable. Now she looked expensive. Everything about her had changed. The clothes. The jewelry. The confidence. The status.

Every upgrade had come from the same source.

Rocco Thornton.

And Rocco stood beside her with one hand resting lightly against her back. His eyes followed her every movement.

I knew that look. I remembered it too well.

Once upon a time, he had looked at me the same way.

The whispers started almost immediately. No one bothered lowering their voices. Then Astrid approached me with a bright smile that immediately made my skin crawl.

“Everyone is being far too serious,” Astrid said, looking around at the crowd. “Celeste and I had some disagreements in the past, but that happens in every industry. People love turning professional competition into something dramatic.”

A few guests laughed.

Astrid smiled wider.

“The funny thing is that most of those rumors weren't even true. People just enjoy creating stories.”

Then she glanced at Rocco.

“And honestly, we've all moved on. Mr. Thornton and I are together now. Celeste has had plenty of time to accept that, and I'd hate for anyone to think we're still stuck in some old love triangle.”

Several people immediately looked at me.

My stomach twisted.

Astrid continued as if she were doing me a favor.

“We're all adults here. Relationships end. People fall in love with someone else. That's life. Holding onto bitterness forever just makes you look pathetic.”

The room grew quieter.

I looked toward Rocco but he said nothing.

That silence hurt more than anything she had said.

I decided I had stayed long enough.

I turned toward the exit.

Then Astrid stepped into my path.

Her smile remained perfectly in place.

“Leaving already?” she asked quietly. “That's disappointing. I went through a lot of effort to make sure you'd have a memorable evening.”

Something cold settled in my stomach.

“What did you do?” I asked.

Astrid's smile widened.

“You'll see.”

Before I could react, the massive screen behind us lit up.

A video began to play and the room immediately fell silent. My blood turned cold.

No!

The footage showed my brother. The same footage that had already destroyed him. The same footage Rocco had used to threaten me.

A wave of whispers spread through the crowd.

I rushed forward. “Turn it off!” I shouted. “Turn it off right now!”

Bodyguards immediately stepped in front of the screen— blocking and stopping me.

I shoved against one of them.

“Move!” I screamed. “haven't you people done enough?”

Nobody moved.

The whispers grew louder.

“That's the boy from the scandal.”

“I thought the family said he was a victim. Pff! Look at that boy. Having fun with Astrid brother.”

“Maybe they made the whole thing up.”

“No wonder they're always involved in controversy.”

Every comment felt like another blow.

My hands were shaking, my vision blurred. And Astrid simply stood there watching satisfied.

Waiting for every last person in the room to see it.

Only when the video was almost finished did she signal for it to be turned off.

Then she walked toward me.

“Celeste,” Astrid said. “Why are you making such a scene? Everyone was curious about what actually happened, so I thought it would be helpful to show them.”

I stared at her.

She shrugged.

“The case is over. The investigation is over. Your brother is gone. At some point you have to stop acting like the entire world owes him sympathy.”

My hands clenched into fists.

Astrid lowered her voice.

“And honestly, if I were you, I'd be grateful. Most people would be embarrassed to have that video attached to their family name forever.”

The room went silent.

She looked directly into my eyes.

“Your brother made his choices. The rest of us moved on months ago. You're the only one still clinging to a dead story because it's the only thing that gets people to look at you.”

Something inside me snapped.

Astrid saw it and smiled.

A cruel smile.

The smile of someone who thought she had already won.

“Go ahead,” she said softly. “Get angry. Cry. Scream. That's what you always do when things don't go your way.”

I lunged forward before I even realized I was moving.

My hand connected with her face with every ounce of strength I had left.

The crack echoed across the hall.

And for the first time that entire night, Astrid stopped smiling.

Astrid cried out the moment my hand connected with her face.

The reaction was immediate. She stumbled backward as though the slap had nearly knocked her off her feet, then threw herself straight into Rocco's arms. The movement was so quick and natural that it looked rehearsed.

Rocco caught her instantly.

The moment he saw the red mark forming on her cheek, his expression darkened. His eyes lifted and settled on me.

“Celeste, have you completely lost your mind?” Rocco demanded. “Do you realize what you've just done? There are hundreds of people here. You attacked someone in front of all of them because you couldn't control your emotions.”

My hands were still shaking.

My chest hurt so badly that every breath felt strained.

A laugh escaped me.

Not because anything was funny.

Because I honestly couldn't believe what I was hearing.

“That's what finally gets your attention?” I asked. “They played that video again and let strangers tear him apart even after his death. But Astrid gets one slap and suddenly you're outraged?”

I pointed toward the screen behind us.

“Where were you five minutes ago, Rocco? Were you standing somewhere else? Did you somehow miss everything that happened? Or do you only pay attention when she's the one getting hurt?”

The room fell silent.

Several guests exchanged uneasy glances.

For a moment, something flickered across Rocco's face.

Then it disappeared.

His expression settled back into the calm, controlled look he always wore when he wanted absolute authority over a situation.

“I can deal with what happened here,” Rocco said. “I can make sure this video goes nowhere and that nobody discusses tonight after they leave. But that only happens if you stop creating problems.”

His gaze hardened.

“The agreement still stands, Celeste. You follow it, and this ends here. You keep fighting, and the consequences won't stop with you anymore.”

My stomach dropped.

Rocco took a step closer.

“The next person caught in the fallout won't be someone you can protect. Think carefully before you force me to make decisions neither of us will like.”

The threat hung in the air between us.

I felt sick.

Completely sick.

My throat burned.

Tears gathered in my eyes no matter how hard I fought them.

“Rocco,” I said quietly, “I want you to remember this moment as clearly as I will. Because I promise you, I will never forget tonight. I'll remember every choice you made, every word you said, and every time you stood there and watched while they destroyed my family.”

For the first time, he didn't answer immediately.

Something shifted in his eyes.

Something that almost looked like discomfort.

Almost.

Then Astrid buried her face against his chest and began crying again.

The hesitation vanished. Rocco wrapped an arm around her shoulders. And just like that, I disappeared from his attention.

Again.

---

I left the banquet hall alone.

A few blocks away, the streets became quieter. The crowd noise faded behind me, and for the first time all evening, I thought I might finally be left alone.

Then someone grabbed me from behind.

Before I could react, several people surrounded me.

My heart dropped.

“What are you doing?” I shouted. “Let go of me. Right now. If this is about the party, you've already gotten what you wanted.”

Nobody answered. They ignored every word.

I struggled.

I fought and demanded they stop. But they kept on beating me, kicking and slapping me.

By the time they finally left, I was sitting on the pavement struggling to think clearly.

Then my phone vibrated.

A message arrived.

"How does it feel to be beaten by Rocco's men? Oh, sorry. He said that's your punishment for hurting me."

I bitterly laughes. So, Rocco sent them to silence me.

...

After I got home, I didn't tell my father.

What was the point? We only had a few hours left.

A few more hours and we'd finally leave this city behind.

That was all that mattered now.

So I packed quietly and pretended everything was fine. Pretended I wasn't falling apart.

Three hours. That's all we needed. Three more hours. Then the pounding started.

The front door shook beneath a series of loud knocks.

My father and I exchanged a look.

Neither of us spoke.

I opened the door. A middle-aged woman immediately pushed past me.

She walked into the living room and looked around as if she owned the place.

“What took so long?” she complained. “I've been standing outside forever. Is this how you welcome guests?”

I frowned.

“Who are you? And why are you in my house?”

The woman ignored the question entirely.

Instead, she studied me from head to toe.

“Hm,” she said. “Not exactly what I expected. The face isn't perfect, and you're a little older than I'd prefer. Still, you'll do.”

A chill crawled down my spine.

Before I could respond, she turned toward the doorway.

“Arthur, come inside. Stop standing out there.”

My blood froze.