Chapter 3 Back To Crestfall

Jasmine's POV

The smell hit me first. Not grief... though it clung to the air thick as smoke, but flowers. White lilies, roses, carnations. Too many. Their sweetness was suffocating, as if someone had tried to drown sorrow beneath perfume.

I hated it.

Because no matter how carefully they dressed the room, no matter how soft the music playing in the background, death was still ugly. And my mother was still gone.

"Jasmine?"

The sound of my name cracked the haze, and I turned to see Mrs. Calloway, our old neighbor. Her hair was grayer, her eyes shining with pity that made me want to recoil.

"I'm so sorry about your mother," she whispered, voice dripping with sympathy I didn't trust.

"Thank you," I murmured, forcing a tight smile. It felt alien, stretched across a face that didn't know how to smile anymore.

Her hand hovered, as if she might touch my arm, then thought better of it. She gave me one last, watery look before drifting away into the crowd.

I straightened my shoulders. Breathe, Jasmine. Just breathe.

The room was already filling... familiar faces, some I wished I'd never see again. Crestfall had always been a city of sharp eyes and sharper tongues.

I had once thought of this place as my home. Now it felt like a cage lined with whispers.

And sure enough, they started.

"Is that really her?"

"She looks... different."

"Didn't she get expelled?"

The murmurs slid between the flower arrangements and rows of polished chairs, curling toward me like smoke.

I raised my chin, voice cutting through the air like a blade.

"Funny. You whisper like I can't hear you."

The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut. Eyes dropped, throats cleared, and the whispers scattered like ash in the wind.

White lilies lay draped across the polished wood. My mother's favorite. I remembered her humming as she arranged them in a vase, telling me each bloom carried its own story. She'd believed flowers spoke when words failed.

Now they were speaking for her.

"Are you okay?"

I stiffened. Mia. Of all people. She stood a few feet away, arms crossed, expression caught somewhere between concern and curiosity.

"Just... processing," I said flatly.

Her eyes softened, though I caught the twitch at the corner of her lips... like she wanted to say more. Like she wanted to remind me of the scandal I'd left behind here, the one that had nearly destroyed me.

I turned away before she could. My grief didn't need an audience.

Step by step, I approached the casket. Each step felt like walking into quicksand. The closer I got, the heavier the weight pressing on my chest became.

I stopped in front of it, my hand trembling as I reached out. Fingers brushed cool wood. A shiver ran through me.

Gone. She was really gone.

The urge to scream ripped through me so violently my throat ached, but I swallowed it back. Screaming wouldn't bring her back.

"Jasmine."

The voice cut through like a blade... deep, controlled, threaded with something that demanded attention.

I turned.

Mr. Vale.

Time had carved deeper lines into his face, but the presence was the same... solid, calm, unreadable. My mother had trusted him once. I never fully understood why.

"Mr. Vale," I greeted, my voice a little too thin. "Thank you for being here."

He gave me a small nod. "I'm sorry for your loss."

I dipped my chin, unsure how to respond. Words felt too small.

"I wouldn't miss it," he added, eyes flicking toward the gathered crowd, then back to me. Something unreadable flashed there... concern, maybe. Or warning.

My chest tightened.

He leaned slightly closer, voice lowered. "We should speak... about your mother's affairs."

I shook my head, the casket blurring in my peripheral vision. "Not now. Please. Not here."

He studied me for a beat, then nodded once. "Of course. When you're ready."

He stepped back, disappearing into the shifting bodies.

I exhaled shakily, wrapping my arms around myself.

The service began. Voices murmured prayers. A hymn I hadn't heard since childhood drifted through the air. I barely listened. My mind was elsewhere, caught between grief and the sharp stares of Crestfall Academy faces sprinkled throughout the room.

Their eyes were knives.

"The scholarship girl."

"She's back to collect, isn't she?"

"I heard she lives off the grid now. Figures."

I tightened my jaw. Their whispers could penetrate me once. Not anymore.

Because I wasn't just Jasmine anymore.

I was Nyx.

The hacker they'd never suspect. The shadow they couldn't touch.

Still, standing here, I felt raw. Every whisper scraped against my skin, reminding me of who I used to be... the weak girl who broke under their laughter.

The weak girl my mother tried to protect.

When the service ended, people moved toward the doors, offering obligatory condolences, muttered prayers, thin smiles. I followed slowly, each step heavy.

The sunlight outside hit me like a slap, too bright, too warm. The world shouldn't shine when mine was collapsing.

"Jasmine."

Vale's voice again. I turned to find him waiting near the edge of the lot, his expression tighter than before. Urgent.

My pulse spiked.

"Can we talk?"

"Now?" I asked, scanning the crowd spilling out behind me. Too many eyes. Too many ears.

"It's important," he said firmly.

Something inside me twisted.

I nodded. "Fine."

He led me to the side of the building, where the noise of voices dulled and the scent of lilies faded into crisp autumn air.

"Your mother left you something," Vale said without preamble.

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

He reached into his coat, pulling out a slim, cream-colored envelope.

"She wanted you to have this. Said it would explain things when the time came."

My breath hitched.

I stared at the envelope, my hand half-raised. My fingers shook as I finally took it. The paper felt heavier than it should.

"What is it?" I whispered, though part of me already knew.

"Her words," Vale said simply. His gaze locked onto mine, steady, unyielding. "But Jasmine... this isn't just about her. It's about you. Your future."

My throat tightened. "What are you talking about?"

He hesitated, as though choosing carefully. "There are conditions. Things she kept from you for your own protection. But now... now you'll have to face them."

The ground tilted beneath me. "Conditions? What conditions?"

"Read it," he urged quietly. "You'll understand."

My pulse rumbled in my ears as I slid a finger under the seal. The envelope opened with a soft tear that sounded far too loud in the silence.

Inside lay a folded sheet of paper. My mother's handwriting curved across the page, neat and unmistakable.

I unfolded it, my eyes dragging over the first line.

"To my daughter..."

My heart squeezed so hard it hurt.

"...this inheritance is bound to a contract."

The words blurred.

My stomach dropped.

Bound. To a contract.