Chapter Thirty (Burial and Reunion).

I stood frozen, my eyes fixed on the luxurious, custom-made coffin, adorned with gold accents and intricate carvings, that held my father's lifeless body. The gray London skies wept tears of rain upon us, matching the grief that threatened to consume me. The private ceremony, shrouded in secrecy, was a testament to the esteem in which my father, Everly Harrison, was held. Within the hallowed grounds of Highgate Cemetery, respected members of the organization stood watch, their faces impassive, as we gathered to pay our final respects. I felt Vincent's presence beside me, his hand brushing against mine, offering what little comfort he could. But even his strength couldn't ease the ache in my heart.

To my left, Riley, Samantha, and Lisa, my best friends since childhood, stood in somber silence, their eyes red-rimmed from crying. Riley, with her fiery spirit, looked like she was struggling to hold back her tears. Lisa, ever the calm and collected one, had her arm around Samantha, who was openly sobbing. They had been my rock throughout the years, and I knew they would be here for me, no matter what.

Behind them, Rion, my childhood friend and confidant, stood with his eyes cast downward, his jaw clenched in a mix of grief and anger. We had grown up together, exploring the streets of London, sharing our deepest secrets, and supporting each other through thick and thin. I knew he was hurting, just like me, and it broke my heart to see him in so much pain.

On my right, my mother, Alessia Everly, stood tall, her eyes dry but her face etched with sorrow. She was a pillar of strength, a woman who had endured the trials and tribulations of being a Mafia wife with grace and dignity. Her hand was clasped tightly around mine, a silent reminder that she was here for me, always. I knew she was hurting, too, but she would never show it, not even now, when her world had been shattered by the loss of her husband.

As I scanned the crowd, I saw West, my half-brother, standing off to the side, his eyes fixed on me with a mix of sadness and concern. We had only just discovered our shared past, and I knew he was struggling to come to terms with our father's death.

The priest began to speak, his words a gentle whisper in the stillness of the cemetery. I felt a lump form in my throat as he spoke of my father's life, his accomplishments, and his unwavering dedication to our family.

****

(Flashback.)

My hands trembled as I gripped the weapon tightly.

I fixated on Clinton's motionless form, saturated with blood.

"Damn it! What have I done?!" I dropped the firearm, overwhelmed by fear.

"It was his doing; he coerced me into this. He was toxic! He mistreated me! I didn't take his life." I collapsed onto the floor, my gaze fixed on his still body.

With shaking hands, I fumbled for my phone, my palm and face slick with anxiety.

"Who should I contact? Who should I reach out to?!" I scrolled frantically through my contacts.

"Dad?!" I called him immediately as i paced anxiously.

"Bloom, sweetheart, I'm busy right now. I'll call you back." He replied, urgency in his tone.

"Dad, wait!" I interrupted just before he could hang up.

"What's going on with your voice? Did something happen?!" He asked, concern evident.

"D-Dad, I think... I shot Clinton!" I murmured into the phone.

"What?! What transpired between you both?!" he exclaimed over the phone.

"He hurt me again... And then he pulled out a gun and tried to shoot me, but he couldn't do it. He forced me to take the gun and yelled at me to use it; I was so lost, and before I knew it, I shot him," I recounted.

"Is he still alive?" he inquired.

"No," I replied without hesitation.

"Stay where you are. Don't do anything! I'll be there shortly." He ended the call.

...

Moments later, my dad's call came through. I swiftly answered.

"I'm at the door," he stated curtly.

I dashed to the door and unlocked it.

He gazed at me, his eyes filled with sorrow.

My battered face, trembling body, and bloodied skin told the story.

He enveloped me in a tight embrace, gently stroking my hair as his men entered the house to take care of scene.

"I told you to steer clear of him; now look at you, all bruised," he murmured.

"You were always absorbed in your Mafia dealings, leaving little time for mom or me. She's still upset that you didn't share the truth about your relationships with other women. It all became overwhelming, and that's when I turned to him." I melted into his embrace as hot tears streamed down my face.

"There, there. I'm sorry, sweetheart. Let's head home." He guided me to the car.

"How about some fried chicken and ice cream? Sound good?" He attempted to lighten the mood as he shut the car door.

"Sure," I replied still feeling the shiver of what I did.

As he began driving, I felt a flicker of hope.

********

(End of Flashback).

Once the ceremony concluded, Mom, West, and I lingered near the entrance to say farewell to the guests, many of whom extended their warm wishes.

Most of the conversation flowed between West and Mom, while I was lost in reflections of Dad.

It's only now that I truly grasp how much he cared, despite his many flaws and mistakes.

I fled London to escape the weight of his business, only to find myself entangled in another one here in Canada.

Why did he come to rescue me? He should have let me be. At least then, he might still be alive.

***

Once the guest had left the rest of family remained behind.As the last of the guests departed, the remaining family members gathered around, their faces etched with grief. I stood frozen, my eyes fixed on the spot where my father's coffin had lain, my mind still reeling from the events of the past few days. The sound of Brixton's mother, Mrs. Jenkins, wailing in the background was like a knife to my heart, twisting and turning with every sob.

Riley, Samantha, and Lisa had already left, their faces streaked with tears as they bid me farewell. Rion had gone off to discuss something with Vincent, leaving me alone with my family. The Blue and Brixton's mother's were seated together, their faces a picture of despair. Blue's mischievous seventeen-year-old face was masked with impaled sadness, while Brixton held his face up, trying to keep himself from breaking down as he consoled his mother.

I took a deep breath and gathered everyone's attention, introducing West as our senior brother. The room fell silent, with all eyes fixed on West. But before anyone could react, Mrs. Jenkins lunged herself at me, her eyes blazing with anger and hatred.

"You insolent girl!" she screamed, her voice echoing off the walls. "This is your fault! He was always going on about how amazing you were, and you kept avoiding him. I just knew you'd be the cause of his death!"

Her hands closed around my neck, squeezing tight as she shook me back and forth. I felt a surge of adrenaline, but I didn't struggle. I simply stared at her, my eyes devoid of any emotion. If she wanted to end me she should, I have no objections.

"You're cursed!" she spat, her face twisted in a snarl. "Just look at your life and your mother's - completely worthless. You always end up in trouble. It's a shame Harrison never listened to me!"

Mom just stared at her pitifully.

The room erupted into chaos as everyone rushed to pull Mrs. Jenkins away from me. West and Brixton stepped forward, their faces set in stern lines as they restrained her. Brixton, his face pale and shaken, pulled his mother away, his eyes fixed on me with a mixture of sadness and apology.

As the commotion died down, Dad's assistant, Mr. Thompson, stepped forward, his face somber. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I have some information to share with the children. It's something your father instructed me to do in the event of his passing."

The room fell silent once more, with all eyes fixed on Mr. Thompson. I felt a shiver run down my spine as I wondered what Dad had left for us. Was it a message, a warning, or something more?