Chapter 2A Dead Womans Final Signature

On the drive back, I leaned my head against the cold glass, letting the wind dry the dampness in the corners of my eyes.

Jack, trying hard to soothe me, racked his brain for jokes to make me smile.

My mouth lifted slightly, and I was about to speak when my eyes caught something sharp and unwelcome. A man was pacing near the entrance of our hotel.

“What are you doing here!”

My body instantly bristled, all sharp edges. I slammed the car door and charged at him, demanding an answer.

Victor Hayes saw me, and the tentative smile on his face immediately crumpled into a look of raw distress.

“I… I just wanted to see you.”

“I’m your father. You’re getting married, and of course I should—”

“You are not my father!”

I cut him off, spinning around and pulling Jack sharply toward the hotel lobby.

“If you have an ounce of decency left, don’t ever let me see your face again.”

In the reflection of the glass doors, I saw Victor take two stumbling steps after me, his voice tearing in the wind.

“Ellie! At least tell me… is your mother alright?”

I halted for a fraction of a second, then quickly moved on.

Alright?

She’s dead. So, yes, she’s finally alright.

We got to the front desk. I was just about to tell the manager that Victor Hayes was not to be allowed on the property when the manager approached me.

“I’m so sorry, Ms. Stone, but your wedding reception hall has been booked by someone else.”

“What?”

I froze, then the realization hit me like a blow.

“He did this, didn’t he?”

I didn’t need to say his name. The manager’s face went momentarily pale.

“We can’t disclose guest names, ma’am, but the client said that if he could just meet with you and your mother, he would release the venue, free of charge.”

Jack looked at me with deep concern.

“Ellie, let’s just forget it…”

“I’ll call other hotels right now.”

I shook my head, already defeated.

“It won’t work.”

“When he makes up his mind about something, no amount of running or struggling will help.”

That was a lesson I learned eight years too late.

I took out my phone, hesitated for a long moment, and finally dialed the number I hadn’t deleted.

“Ten AM tomorrow. Coffee shop. We meet.”

My voice was ice-cold, but Victor on the other end sounded like he’d won the lottery.

“Yes! Yes! Ellie, I won’t be late, I promise. Tell me, is your mother still a fan of—”

I hung up before he could finish.

That evening, Aunt Sophia arrived on a late flight.

Eight years ago, she was still studying overseas and learned everything second-hand.

Eight years later, the moment she saw me, her eyes were instantly red-rimmed.

“How dare that despicable bastard show his face around you?”

She gripped my hands, her whole body shaking with rage.

“He was the one who disowned you eight years ago! How can he have the nerve to crash your wedding?”

“Does he think he deserves it?”

“And your mother…”

Sophia choked on the name.

“How could she be so damn generous? She slaved away, working multiple jobs just to scrimp and save to fund that viper’s startup.”

“And then, when he finally made it big, the first thing he did was cheat, find a mistress, and break your mother’s heart until it stopped.”

“Your mother was only forty years old when she died!”

Sophia was sobbing uncontrollably. I just stood there, silent.

Because she was right. My mother was too selfless.

When she married my father, he was just a broke street kid—a nobody who barely had two pennies to rub together. His mother had died young, and his father was a gambler; his life was a total wreck.

But my mother was a fool. Because he saved her once from a mugging on the way home from school, she gave him her whole heart.

At eighteen, they had their first time.

At twenty-two, they got married and had their first and only child—me.

At forty, I got into college, and he cheated.

The most hateful thing he ever said to her was:

“I might be shameless, but you slept with me when you were eighteen. What right do you have to judge me?”

That was the first time I saw utter despair in my mother’s eyes.

The pain in that gaze was so deep that eight years later, I still woke up from nightmares, regretting what I did.

Regretting that I ever told her about his affair.