Chapter 3

Through the thin guest room door, I could hear their muffled laughter. I heard the clink of wine glasses and the soft music they turned on. Ethan was comforting her, soothing the woman who had just assaulted me while her dog tore into my flesh. The thought made bile rise in my throat.

I pressed my ear against the wood, straining to hear. "She' s always so dramatic," Brittany was saying, her voice a purr. "You' re too good to her, Ethan."

"She just needs to cool off," Ethan replied, his voice distant. "She' ll be fine by morning."

Fine. I looked down at my leg, where I had used a pillowcase to create a makeshift bandage. It was already soaked through with blood. I thought back to the man who had held my hand through my father' s funeral, the man who spoon-fed me soup when I had the flu, the man who had promised me forever just this morning. The contrast between that man and the one in the next room was so stark it made me dizzy. The love I had felt for him was curdling into something cold and hard.

Suddenly, my phone, which was still in my pocket, vibrated. It was a text from my aunt. 'Sarah, call me. It' s urgent.'

My heart pounded. I quickly dialed her number. "Aunt May, what' s wrong?"

"Sarah, honey, I' m so sorry to bother you, but I just got a call from the cemetery," she said, her voice frantic. "Someone filed a claim on your mother' s burial plot. They' re saying there' s a paperwork issue and they might have to... move her."

The world spun. My mother' s grave. It was the only place I had left to feel close to her. My father was buried with his family in another state, but my mom had wanted to be here, near the ocean. I had bought the plot for her with my first real paycheck as a nurse.

"Who? Who would do that?" I asked, panic clawing at my throat.

"I don' t know, but the man said they have an excavator scheduled for sunrise tomorrow. You need to get down there, Sarah!"

I didn' t even think. Adrenaline surged through me, overpowering the pain in my leg and the ache in my heart. I had to get to her. I had to protect her.

I rattled the doorknob. Locked. I looked around the room, my eyes landing on the window. We were only on the second floor. Without a second thought, I slid the window open, ignoring the searing pain in my calf as I swung my legs over the sill. I landed hard on the soft grass below, my injured leg buckling under me.

I grit my teeth, pushing myself up. I hobbled to my car, my mind a storm of fear and anger. I drove recklessly, my hands shaking on the steering wheel, the city lights blurring through my tear-filled eyes.

When I reached the cemetery, the sight that greeted me stole the breath from my lungs. Under the harsh glare of portable floodlights, a massive yellow excavator was parked right beside my mother' s grave. The ground was already disturbed, the pristine grass torn up. A man in a hard hat was directing the machine' s huge metal claw, pointing it right at the spot where my mother rested.

"Stop!" I screamed, my voice raw with desperation. "Stop! What are you doing?"

I scrambled out of the car, ignoring the fire in my leg, and ran toward them. I threw myself in front of the grave, spreading my arms wide as if I could physically shield her from the metal beast.

"Get away from her grave!" I cried, tears streaming down my face.

The operator killed the engine. The sudden silence was deafening. Just as the man in the hard hat started walking toward me, a sleek black car pulled up.

Ethan got out, looking confused. "Sarah? What are you doing here?"

He started toward me, a flicker of something like concern on his face. But then the passenger door opened. Brittany Hayes stepped out, a triumphant smirk on her lips. She dangled a set of official-looking documents from her fingers.

"Don' t touch her, Ethan," Brittany cooed, walking over to the excavator. She handed a paper to the operator. "This plot is mine now. Proceed."