Chapter 3: Broken Promises, Shattered Hearts

Once, I would have cried in secret.

Now, maybe I’m just numb. I don’t feel a thing.

When I stood up, my vision went black and I collapsed. The world tilted and fell away.

It was Ethan, quick and steady, who caught me and gently pressed a caramel candy into my mouth. The sweetness was almost too much.

The candy melted, but all I tasted was blood.

Just like when I held Andy, bleeding in my arms—he trembled, raised his hand, and fed me caramel candy stained with his own blood.

“Big sister, don’t cry.”

“Take the baby and go. Andy doesn’t hurt.”

It was so bitter and painful, I could barely breathe.

I clutched Andy’s photo, and Ethan held me as we staggered forward. My hands shook, but I wouldn’t let go.

“Let’s send Andy off together.”

Ethan’s tone was gentle, just like the night I found out I was pregnant. I almost believed him.

“Lila, let’s let the past go. Can we start over?”

The day I moved into the Whitmore estate, Ethan knelt all night before the family’s memorial wall.

That night, I cried and agreed. I thought it meant something.

But now it all feels like a joke.

Ethan, there’s too much history and pain between us. How could we ever have a happy ending?

The guests at the funeral whispered behind their hands, voices low and sharp:

“If not for President Brooks destroying the Whitmores, would Lila and Ethan, childhood sweethearts, have ended up like this?”

“If you ask me, the one in his heart now is Savannah. Just look at her—Lady of Maple Heights. Means ‘eternal peace and happiness,’ doesn’t it?”

“Makes sense. Who would ignore their savior and love the daughter of their enemy?”

I pretended not to hear, just kept moving forward.

When the procession reached the gates, Savannah—pale as a ghost and supported by her maid—blocked the way.

Seeing Savannah’s face, Ethan immediately left me and hurried over, worry threading through his voice: “Why are you here?”

Savannah hesitated, glancing at me. Her eyes flicked away, unreadable.

My eyelid twitched. A warning sign.

The last time she wore that look, I lost the rabbit Ethan had given me. Some things never change.

The preacher beside Savannah stepped forward, pointing at Andy’s casket:

“Lady Savannah’s frail health is due to an evil spirit haunting her. The body must be cremated to release it, so she can recover.”

I threw myself on the casket, shielding Andy, sobbing and begging Ethan:

“Ethan, Andy’s already gone. If you burn his body now, will he ever find peace?”

That one word—‘Ethan’—finally made him hesitate.

He turned to the preacher, “Is there another way?”

Before he could finish, Savannah suddenly coughed up blood and fainted into Ethan’s arms. The drama was almost too much.

Her maid knelt, crying: “Please, Mr. Whitmore, she’s always been weak. Save her!”

Ethan’s heart was all for Savannah now. He barked, “Open the casket and burn the body!”

“No!”

Dignity gone, I crawled to him, grabbing his pant leg, begging:

“Ethan, please, don’t do this to Andy. We raised him together—”

Andy was born with special needs, considered a bad omen by my father, and his mother was sent away in disgrace.