Chapter 6

To my surprise, my funeral wasn't as desolate as I'd imagined.

The room buzzed with mourners, most unfamiliar faces, likely drawn by the weight of my name. My funeral had become another networking opportunity for the elite.

The noise fell silent as Victor entered, marking the start of the service.

Every ritual was completed with precision, yet Benedict was nowhere to be seen.

For a brief moment, the room was eerily still. Then, the doors swung open with a bang, and Benedict arrived.

I let out sigh of relief, waiting for the show to start.

His face was pallid, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion, and his clothes were the same ones from the day before.

As he trudged forward, his gait heavy and labored, his gaze locked onto my portrait at the altar.

It was only then that the truth seemed to finally sink in. This wasn't a joke. My death was real, a fact he could no longer avoid.

His trembling hand reached out to touch my picture, only to be shoved away by Victor.