Where Love and Hate Fade

I am the eighteenth-generation grave keeper of my family. By accident, I once saved a woman from Arlington's elite circle—Kayla Anderson—who was being buried alive.

With my cover, Kayla faked her death and escaped, then returned to Arlington with blood in her eyes. One by one, she hunted down her enemies. Afterward, she offered herself to me along with a dowry of one million. I said yes.

Five years later, Stefan Harvey—the man she once loved—got divorced and returned to the country for treatment. He needed rare herbs for his medicine.

Without hesitation, Kayla had her seven-month-old unborn child forcibly cut from her womb. The baby died.

I was devastated.

Kayla, on the other hand, looked at me like she had just misplaced a coin.

"Because you stopped me from returning to Arlington back then, Stefan was forced to marry someone else. He fell seriously ill because of it," she said, her tone cold and unwavering. "Liam, this is your debt to Stefan. This child must be sacrificed."

Later, Stefan expressed interest in my family's ancestral land.

"Kayla, my healer said I need a sacred ground to recuperate," he had told her, standing tall like a man reclaiming his destiny. "I think the cemetery in this mountain is perfect."

So, Kayla sent people to dig up my ancestors.

Sixty-eight skeletons—my family—were dumped in the nearby forest. The tombstones were smashed, their fragments tossed like rubble for construction. Cracked marble now lined walkways. Names erased. Histories obliterated.

That day, my last shred of affection for Kayla vanished without a trace.

They never knew—what my family has always guarded wasn't just the dead. It was the living who dared trespass on sacred soil.

——

At the airport, I stood with a boarding pass in hand, waiting to fly to Greymoor—to retrieve what little remained of the bodies they discarded like garbage.

My phone screen displayed a photo: white bones scattered across a slope, half-buried in dead leaves. My vision blurred. I wasn't sure if it was from exhaustion or rage.

Charles, my assistant, stood beside me. When he caught a glimpse of the photo, he turned away sharply, jaw clenched.

"Sir... why has Miss Anderson suddenly become someone we don't even recognize? These were your family members. Even if she wanted to take the land, she could've buried them properly."

He hesitated before adding, "You just lost the child you waited so long for. How could she let you take another blow like this? How could she be so heartless?"

My voice came out steady. Detached. "Because the one she loves isn't me."

Charles blinked. "That can't be right. She defied her whole family to marry you. She even begged to her grandparents. Everyone said she loved you."

My hand froze over the screen. A hollow laugh escaped my throat.

No one knew—Kayla hadn't been begging for me. She had been pleading with them to let her return and fight for Stefan.

Our marriage was her rebellion. Her revenge. Even my suit on our wedding day was tailored to Stefan's measurements, not mine.

And I'd still worn it.

To the bitter end, she was dreaming of marrying him. I used to tell myself she was just too busy and got the sizes mixed up. I lied to myself over and over, thinking that if I gave her enough warmth, her frozen heart would thaw.

I was a stand-in. And I still said yes.

Just then, Amber arrived—Kayla's secretary, flanked by several men in black suits.

"Sir," she said smoothly, "Miss Anderson instructed that you are not to go to Greymoor. Mr. Harvey has made all necessary arrangements. The burial will proceed tomorrow."

I raised my head slowly, voice trembling beneath layers of control. "Burial? Are you sure the people Stefan invited are there for that? He's not holding a ritual. He hired exorcists to cleanse the ground."

I sucked in a breath. "Amber, go back and tell Kayla—no matter what, I will go to Greymoor."

Amber didn't flinch. Her smile was calm. Calculated.

"Sir, we're all just following orders. Please don't make this difficult for us."

She added softly, "I heard your mother is still in the hospital... clinging to life. If you go to Greymoor and Miss Anderson gets upset, she might stop the medication. That would be... unfortunate, wouldn't it?"

I stared at her, my pulse hammering behind my eyes.

"Are you threatening me?"

Amber only tilted her head, still smiling.

Five years ago, when I followed Kayla back to Arlington, my mother stayed behind. She took over my duties as the family grave keeper.

And now, her life—just like my ancestors'—hung in Kayla's hands.