Suddenly, a vicious gleam flashed in Rina’s eyes.

She snatched up the urn that had been set aside and raised it high above her head, her expression twisted with malice.

“If you won’t give me the medals, I’ll throw this away!”

“That’s Henry’s ashes!”

Both my mother-in-law and I shouted at once.

For a moment, Rina froze—then burst out laughing.

“What a performance! You should be on stage.”

As she spoke, she turned and bolted toward the courtyard, clutching the urn. Without hesitation, she yanked open the cover of a maintenance shaft.

My heart stopped—beneath that cover was the septic tank.

“No! Please, don’t!” I shouted, desperation cracking my voice. “I’ll give you the medals! Just don’t throw it!”

She sneered. “Too late!”

With a flick of her wrist, she let go. “This is what you get for defying me!”

I watched helplessly as the urn plummeted into the black void below, followed by a dull, sickening thud.

My vision darkened. I felt something rise in my throat, and before I knew it, I was coughing up blood.

Rina froze, stunned. For once, she didn’t seem to know what to do.

My mother-in-law rushed forward and slapped her across the face with all her strength.

“That’s Henry’s ashes, you wretched girl!” she screamed.

Rina clutched her cheek in disbelief, staring at her mother. “Mom, you’re taking William’s side now? Stop being ridiculous—Henry’s still at the hospital!”

But her mother shoved her away, tears streaming down her face as she collapsed beside the open shaft.

“Henry... my precious Henry...”

Only then did a flicker of clarity return to Rina’s eyes.

Confusion gave way to terror. She staggered toward the garage, screaming through sobs,

“No—no, that’s impossible! I’ll go to the hospital right now! He’s still waiting for my donation!”

I forced myself to my feet, swaying, staring down into that black, stinking hole.

My mother-in-law seemed to understand what I intended. She grabbed my arm tightly.

“William, don’t! Don’t do anything foolish!”

“I have to get him back,” I said, shaking her off.

Without wasting another second, then I jumped.

The stench of methane hit me like a wall, searing into my lungs like needles.

I gagged, fighting the urge to pass out, and groped blindly in the darkness.

The sewage had already risen past my knees.

Floating amid the thick, disgusting sludge were shattered pieces of the urn. My heart plummeted.

Then, on a concrete ledge nearby, I saw it—a small, intact pile of ash. Henry’s ashes.

Thank God.

The urn must have broken on impact, but somehow the ashes had landed in a relatively clean spot.

“Henry...”

My voice trembled as I took off my jacket and gently wrapped the ashes with the care of a man holding the last piece of his soul.

The fumes made my head spin. Gritting my teeth, I held my breath and used the last of my strength to crawl out of the shaft.

The moment I surfaced, I collapsed into a coughing fit, choking on blood-tinged saliva.

“Call an ambulance! Hurry!” my mother-in-law’s voice echoed, fading in and out.

As I was laid onto the stretcher, I refused to let go of the bundle cradled against my chest—the foul-smelling jacket holding Henry’s ashes.

Somewhere between consciousness and oblivion, I heard the medic’s urgent voice, “Severe methane poisoning! We need to start resuscitation now!”

I clutched my mother-in-law’s hand, gasping.

“Mom...”

Each word stabbed like a knife.

“I-if I don’t make it... bury me with Henry and my parents...”

She broke down completely, nodding through her tears.

“Okay! I promise, William, I promise! But you have to hold on, you must!”

My vision faded to black.

All I could feel was the filthy, soaked jacket pressed tightly to my chest—still warm with the remnants of my son.

Meanwhile, Rina stumbled into the pediatric ward.

“Henry! Where’s Henry?!” she cried, grabbing the head nurse in a panic.

“My son—where is he? He’s waiting for my bone marrow! Where are you hiding him?!”

The nurse frowned, wincing in pain, but said nothing.

Only now did Rina realize something was off—the entire nursing staff at the station had stopped what they were doing.

They were all staring at her with complicated, guarded expressions.

“Ms. Sterling,” the head nurse said quietly, pulling her arm away.

“Your son passed away seven days ago.”