Chapter 3 3

Cilla stepped out of the private elevator, the heavy black urn resting securely against her chest.

The hallway leading to the penthouse was silent, the thick carpet absorbing the sound of her footsteps.

She walked up to the double mahogany doors and reached out to punch in the security code.

Her hand stopped mid-air.

The door wasn't fully closed. It was cracked open just an inch.

Through the narrow gap, the shrill, grating voice of her mother-in-law, Meryl, spilled into the hallway.

"I don't care what you have to do, Jace. That uneducated hillbilly is a stain on this family," Meryl snapped.

Cilla froze. Her fingers tightened around the smooth surface of the urn.

"She literally just leeches off your bank accounts," Sierra, Jace's younger sister, chimed in. "She doesn't even know how to dress for a charity gala."

Cilla stood perfectly still. Her knuckles turned stark white from how hard she was gripping the ceramic.

"You need to divorce her and marry Carolyn," Meryl continued, her voice rising in pitch. "Carolyn is a star pilot. She comes from a good family. She brings prestige to the Hudson name."

There was a brief silence from inside the apartment.

Jace didn't defend her. He didn't tell his mother to stop.

"A divorce means dealing with the prenup," Jace finally said, his voice low and calculating. "It means splitting assets."

"Then you get the lawyers to bury her in paperwork," Meryl said coldly. "You freeze her out. You make sure she walks away with absolutely nothing. She deserves to be back on the streets where you found her."

"Fine," Jace agreed, the word hitting Cilla like a physical blow to the stomach. "I'll have the legal team draft something up. I'll get her to sign it."

Standing in the hallway, Cilla felt her pulse slow down.

There was no anger left. No sadness. Just a thick, suffocating wave of pure disgust.

She looked down at the flag draped over the urn. Her parents had died for this country.

And she was standing here listening to parasites plot to steal her dignity.

Cilla took a steadying breath, her hand closing around the spare key in her pocket. The metal bit into her palm, a grounding anchor against the tidal wave of disgust threatening to pull her under. She unlocked the heavy mahogany door and pushed it open with a sudden, overwhelming force that made it fly inward with a violent crash, the brass handle slamming into the interior wall.

Meryl, Sierra, and Jace all jumped, their heads snapping toward the entryway.

Cilla walked into the living room. Her face was a mask of stone. Her eyes swept over the three of them, sharp and unforgiving.

Meryl's face paled for a second, a flash of guilt crossing her features before it morphed back into arrogant annoyance.

Sierra stood up from the velvet sofa, crossing her arms. "Do you always sneak around and eavesdrop like a creep?"

Jace's eyes dropped to the object in Cilla's arms. His brow furrowed in deep confusion.

"What the hell is that?" Jace demanded, pointing at the black container. "Why are you bringing that morbid thing into my house?"

"These are my parents' ashes," Cilla said. Her voice didn't shake. It was dead calm.

Meryl shrieked, taking a dramatic step backward and clutching the pearls at her throat.

"Oh my god!" Meryl gasped, her chest heaving. "Get that out of here! You're bringing dead bones into my son's home? You're ruining the energy of this place!"

Sierra pinched her nose, her face twisting in exaggerated disgust. "That is so unsanitary. Take it outside."

Jace's jaw clenched. The veins in his neck bulged.

"Take that garbage out of my apartment right now, Cilla," Jace ordered, his voice echoing in the large room.

Cilla pulled the urn tighter against her chest. She stared directly into Jace's eyes, refusing to blink.

"This is my home too," Cilla said, enunciating every single syllable. "And my parents have every right to be here."

Meryl let out a furious noise. She lunged forward, her hand raised high in the air.

She aimed a vicious slap right at Cilla's face.