The Funeral

Chapter Nine: The Funeral

"So this is how a goodbye feels like…" 

The sky was grey, just as it felt in this mood…

Isabelle was still under the old oak tree, its dry leaves scattered across the cemetery like pieces of memory. 

The wind traveled through the branches, and somewhere, a crow made a sound that felt too loud in the silence. 

The grave was open, waiting for someone to jump in and don't let it be buried forever. 

The priest was speaking, but Isabellecouldn't hear a word. Her eyes were on the casket.

Charlotte was inside that box. Her older and only sister was gone…

It felt so difficult and unreal to Isabelle…she wanted to get close and hug her, tell her to open her eyes and wake up…to stop this silly prank…

Isabelle was ready to admit her mistakes and forgive Charlotte for everything…if only…if only she would just wake up and tell her this wasn't real…it was not her inside that casket…

Reign was a few feet away, dressed in black like everyone else. He didn't say anything. His face was stone cold. 

And then, as soon as the priest mumbled a final line, Reign turned and left. Just like that…

He didn't even wait for the burial.

Isabelle stared at his back as he walked toward his black car. It waited for him like a shadow. He didn't look back even once.

She hated him more in that moment than she ever had before.

'You didn't even love her. You didn't even care.'

The twins were not here. Reign had insisted they stay in the private hospital. "It would be too much trauma," he had said.

Isabelle hadn't argued. Maybe he was right. They were only two. 

But a part of her wished they could be here, to say goodbye to the mother they would never remember.

Her dress clung to her skin, silk turned cold from the wind. People were standing around her, but there weren't many. Maybe twenty or thirty at most.

That was all?

That was all her sister's life was worth?

A woman who had once been so proud and fierce beside her father during press conferences, a woman who had once been the heart of the Munro empire… now reduced to a small crowd, polite nods, and silence.

Even the press had mostly been kept away. Reign made sure of it. Everything had to be quiet, private and closed. 

The few that did show up were people Isabelle barely remembered. Family friends, ex-business partners, one or two distant relatives. 

They were there with umbrellas and sad eyes, but none of them looked truly broken. None of them knew Charlotte the way she did.

Her father was there too.

James arrived in a black armored van, flanked by officers. His hands were cuffed. 

The orange prison uniform was hidden under a long coat, but Isabelle saw the edges of it. His face looked thinner and paler. But his eyes were still the same.

Sharp…Intelligent, and kind.

She tried to walk toward him when he stepped out, tried to move past the line of security, but one of the officers blocked her.

"She's my daughter!" her father had snapped.

"Keep your distance," another officer warned. "No contact permitted. Court orders."

Isabelle tried again. "I just want to talk to him—"

One officer raised a hand. "Ma'am, step back."

Another officer grabbed her gently by the arm and whispered, "I'm sorry. He's not allowed to speak with anyone. It's part of the condition for temporary release. We're just here for the burial."

So she stood back. Watching him... Watching her father's shoulders shake slightly as they lowered Charlotte into the ground. 

Whether it was from sorrow or the cold, she couldn't tell. She had a million questions.

Why did he betray the company?

Why was he arrested for embezzlement, fraud, and destruction of evidence?

Why did Charlotte leave?

Why did he lie?

But the questions would have to wait. Just like the tears.

As the last words were said and the dirt began to fall, Isabelle took a step forward. Her shoes sank slightly in the soft ground. 

She didn't cry or dared to blink…it was her last moments of seeing her sister…she had to remember her.

Isabelle swore in silence. 'I'll find who did this. I'll tear them apart. I swear to you, Charlotte, I won't let this end in dirt and silence.'

Reign's house wasn't quiet…

He paced the marble floors of his study, the bottle of whiskey clutched in one hand, a glass in the other. He poured himself another drink and downed it in one go.

He was on his fourth, or maybe fifth. He didn't count.

The alcohol burned his throat, but he didn't stop. Reign walked to the fireplace, threw the glass at the stone, and watched it shatter.

His hand trembled slightly, but he ignored it.

His brother's handwriting still haunted his mind. That last letter. That final request. To marry Isabelle. To find out the truth. To protect the children…

"Why? Why her? Why him?"

He stared into the flames, and for a second, he thought he saw his brother's face in them. Smiling and calm. As if he knew something Reign didn't.

"You should have told me," Reign mumbled under his breath. "You should have warned me. Damn you."

The guards stood outside his room, silent as statues too scared to even breathe louder.

One of them stepped closer to the door and knocked. "Sir?"

"What?" Reign snapped.

"The burial is complete."

Reign didn't respond.

"She stayed until the end."

He turned toward the door, and narrowed his eyes. "She's still there?"

The guard nodded. "Everyone else left, but she's still standing by the grave."

Reign stared for a second. Then walked to the liquor cabinet and grabbed another glass.

He didn't pour.

He just raised his arm and smashed it against the wall.

The sound of broken glass explored the house.

Reign didn't want to speak or say anything; he was going to regret it anytime soon.

The guard didn't say anything back as well. 

At the cemetery, Isabelle continued staying still. The sun had dipped lower, and the crowd was gone. Only the grave was looking at her. So fresh and filled.

 A simple wooden cross was placed at the head…

She knelt down, her knees pressed into the damp soil.

Isabelle reached into her pocket and pulled out a tiny photo of them together. It was old and faded. She placed it gently on the grave.

"I'm not leaving you," the bottom lip kept trembling. "I'll come back tomorrow. And the day after that."

A gust of wind lifted her hair, and the trees groaned above her.

She continued standing and did not care enough to move, until the sky grew darker.

In another part of the city, Reign was left in silence.But his eyes were glaring at the fire, and the broken glass around him glinted like pieces of guilt.

Something about her staying until the very end, and something about that—hit a part of him he thought was already dead.

And still, he said nothing. But his hand was clenched so tight, the veins showed through his skin.

"Why did you do this?"