134 A Graveside Confession
134 A Graveside Confession
Hazel’s POVD
The police station was cold and sterile. My voice remained steady as I recounted every detail of my father and stepmother’s financial crimes to the detective taking my
statement.
“And you have documentation to support all of these allegations?” he asked, looking up
from his notes.
I nodded. “Every transaction, every falsified contract, every offshore account. Sebastian’s security team helped me compile everything.”
The detective’s eyebrows shot up. “Sebastian Sinclair’s team?”
I smiled faintly. The Sinclair name opened doors even in places like this.
“Yes. They’ve been instrumental in uncovering the full extent of the fraud.”
Two hours later, I emerged from the station into the bright afternoon sunlight. The weight that had pressed on my chest for years felt lighter now. My father’s blustering threats as they’d led him away-“You’ll regret this! I know people!”-had fallen flat when faced with the mountain of evidence against him.
Justice was finally being served.
My phone buzzed with a text from Vera: “How did it go? Need me to bring wine and ice
cream?”
I typed back quickly: “All done. Going to visit Grandma first. Rain check on the wine?”
Her reply came instantly: “Of course. Tell Eleanor I said hi. Love you!”
The drive to my grandmother’s retirement community took thirty minutes. Eleanor Shaw had been my sanctuary after my mother died, the only person who tried to shield me from my father’s cruelty. Age had bent her small frame, but her eyes remained sharp as she opened her door.
“There’s my girl,” she said, pulling me into a hug that smelled of lavender and home-baked cookies.
I followed her into her cozy apartment where two teacups already waited on the coffee table. She’d known I would come.
“It’s done, then?” she asked, pouring steaming tea into delicate china cups that had belonged to my mother.
“Yes. They arrested him this morning.”
She nodded slowly, her weathered hands steady as she passed me my cup. “Your mother would be proud, Hazel. Standing up for yourself was never easy with Harold.”
“I kept thinking about what you always told me,” I admitted. “That silence in the face of wrongdoing is the same as consent.”
“Martha knew that too,” she said, referring to my mother. “She just couldn’t find the strength to fight him before it was too late.”
We spent two hours talking about everything-the investigation, my father’s reaction, the likely jail time he faced. When I finally rose to leave, Grandma Eleanor cupped my face in her hands.
“You look lighter, dear. Like you’ve put down something heavy.”
I kissed her forehead. “I have. I finally have.”
The next morning, I woke with the sun and knew exactly where I needed to go.
The cemetery was quiet this early, dew still clinging to the grass as I made my way through the rows of headstones. My mother’s grave was simple but elegant-just like her. I placed the fresh bouquet of her favorite lilies against the cool marble and sat on the small bench opposite her headstone.
“Hi, Mom,” I whispered. “I have so much to tell you.”
The morning breeze rustled through the nearby trees as I began to speak, telling her everything-about my father’s arrest, about the company’s success, about how I’d finally stood up for myself after all these years.
“You’d hardly recognize me now,” I said with a small laugh. “Remember how quiet I used to be? How I’d let Dad talk over me at dinner? Now I run board meetings and tell CEOS what to do.”
I traced the engraved letters of her name with my fingers. Martha Shaw, Beloved
20.56
214
<
134 A Graveside Confession
Mother.
“Ivy’s gone,” I continued softly. “I know she made my life hell, but sometimes I wonder if things could have been different between us if Tanya hadn’t poisoned her against me from the beginning.”
The silence that followed was peaceful, comforting even.
“There’s something else,” I said, my voice dropping to a near whisper although no one was around to hear. “I’ve met someone. Well, I’ve known him for a while, but things
are… changing.”
My chest tightened as I spoke Sebastian’s name aloud. “He’s incredible, Mom. Strong and kind and so brilliant it’s intimidating. He makes me feel safe in a way I never have
before.”
I paused, swallowing hard. “But he’s Sebastian Sinclair. The Sinclairs make the Everetts look middle-class. And now with Dad going to prison for fraud… I just don’t know if I’m good enough for someone like him.”
Tears welled in my eyes, surprising me. “Everyone in high society will whisper about the convicted felon’s daughter. No matter what I achieve on my own, that stain will always follow me.”
I brushed the tears away angrily. “And even without that, there’s so much damage in
Mom. So many trust issues. What if I can never be whole enough for someone like
me,
him?”
The cemetery remained silent except for birdsong. No maternal voice offered wisdom from beyond. Just my own thoughts echoing back at me.
“I think I love him,” I finally admitted, the words feeling strange on my lips. “And that terrifies me more than anything Alistair ever did to me. Because this time, if it all falls apart, I don’t think I’ll survive it.”
I sat quietly for a few more minutes, collecting myself. Eventually, I stood and pressed my fingers to my lips, then touched them to the top of her headstone.
“I’ll come back soon. I promise.”
As I walked back toward my car, my phone rang. My heart jumped when I saw Sebastian’s name on the screen.
5771
“Hello?” I answered, trying to sound normal.
“Good morning,” his deep voice replied, instantly warming me from within. “I wanted to check if you’re free for dinner tonight. There’s a new restaurant I thought you might enjoy.”
“That sounds perfect,” I said, unlocking my car. “I could use some good company after the past few days.”
“Everything alright?” His voice held genuine concern.
“Yes, actually. Just at the cemetery visiting my mother.”
There was a brief pause. “Are you okay being there alone? I could come—”
“I’m fine,” I assured him, touched by his concern. “I was just sharing some good news with her.”
“Oh? What good news?” Sebastian asked curiously.
I froze, suddenly realizing my predicament. The “good news” included not only my father’s arrest but also my newfound feelings for Sebastian himself-feelings I’d just confessed at my mother’s grave but wasn’t ready to share with the man himself.
What should I tell him?
Comment 0
pulsive
