Chapter 2

I stood there, an impassive observer, as Brandon's mother, Aria Brown, clad in her luxurious mink coat, lost all composure and made a spectacle of herself on the ground.

A curious crowd had formed, their whispers and pointed looks directed at me.

"A mother should never be denied the chance to see her son one last time, no matter the circumstances."

"That woman doesn't look like she's ever lived a day quietly in her life."

"Who dresses up that nicely right after her husband's death? She's probably just come from a rendezvous with some lover."

The murmurs did not faze me. Melissa, on the other hand, rushed to Aria's side, helping her up. "Mrs. Scott, please stand up. Noelle didn't mean for this to happen."

Aria regained her footing and jabbed a finger at me. "You're dead to us. The Scott family wants nothing to do with you, and you certainly won't be handling my son's final affairs."

I let a small smile play on my lips. "Mom, surely you know I kept it from you because I thought you couldn't handle it?

"However, it looks like you're handling it just fine. Instead of rushing to see your son one last time, you found the time to throw a fit here. Anyone would think Brandon was still alive."

Guilt flickered across Aria and Melissa's faces, but they doubled down. "I just lost it when I heard you were going to cremate my son. I'm on my way to see him now."

I gestured toward the distant hearse. "Go ahead, he's right there."

Aria's eyes followed my gesture, and she erupted, her eyes bulging with fury. "Noelle, that's a hearse! It's meant for the dead. How could you put my son in there?

"Have you no humanity? After all the kindness my son showed you!"

Feigning confusion, I met Aria's gaze. "Mom, what are you talking about? Hearses are for the dead, and isn't your son, well, dead? I don't see the issue."

Aria's expression darkened, and she shot me a venomous glare, clearly taken aback by my articulate defense.

Melissa, however, was the one to step in. "Noelle, don't be too hard on Mrs. Scott. She's just following our local custom. When someone dies, we keep them at the funeral home for a few days. It gives everyone a chance to pay their respects before the burial."

Aria quickly nodded. "Exactly, now let's put my son to rest. Melissa always makes sense."

So, we followed the tradition. What was the big deal?

However, Brandon could not be taken back to his city home just yet. The neighbors would not appreciate a funeral disrupting the peace of their community.

For then, he would be taken to his family's country house.

It was as if everything had been prearranged, Brandon's country home was ready for the memorial, with modest decorations and chairs out front for visitors to sit and take a moment.

However, what was unexpected was the lack of grief on the faces of the attendees. It felt more like a casual get-together, with some even chatting quietly among themselves.

Aria, with a glass of red wine in hand, was all smiles, greeting guests as if hosting a party rather than mourning her son.

Melissa turned to me and said, "Noelle, you've been on your feet all day. Sit down and relax, I'll keep an eye on things here."

I grabbed a plate of food and settled myself beside Brandon with a composed air. "That's not necessary. He's not your husband. What are you watching over?"

Melissa's face clouded over as she fixed her gaze on me.

I waved her off. "Aren't we supposed to wait three days? I'll be right here the whole time, and I won't let anyone disturb him."

With a frustrated glance, Melissa had no choice but to go back and consult with Aria.

Two figures slipped into a shadowy corner, whispering urgently about their next move.

I trailed behind them, catching Melissa's voice laced with panic, "What are we going to do? If Brandon goes three days without food, he'll waste away!"

Aria looked downright displeasure. "That witch is always ruining our plans. I've got it—later, I'll mix some sleeping pills into her drink. She'll be out like a light."