The door to Ian’s office burst open, and a soft yet loud voice snapped him out of his work.

  “Dad!” Ilya shouted. “We’re about to leave for Waterela. This is your last chance.”

  Ian Vexwood looked up, glancing at Ilya for a brief moment—his eyes partially hidden beneath his hair—before offering a faint smile.

  “Ilya,” he said gently, “I already told you yesterday. I can’t come with the two of you.”

  “Why? Can’t you skip work for just one day, Dad?”

  “I can’t. As much as I want to come with you, I can’t leave my work, Ilya.”

  Ilya’s cheeks puffed in frustration.

  “Fine then. But next time, no more excuses.”

  “I’ll try my best. Now go on. Don’t keep your mom waiting,” Ian said, giving her a gentle pat on the head.

  Without another word, Ilya left the office.

  Ian stood near the window and watched as she made her way toward the mansion’s main gate, where Celina and Clarisse were already waiting beside the car.

  “Mom, I’m ready! Let’s go,” Ilya said, unable to hide her excitement.

  “Alright,” Celina replied, crouching slightly to meet her eyes. “But check once more if you’ve brought everything you need.”

  “Of course. And I’m taking the front seat.”

  “Sure. But don’t forget to wear your seatbelt.”

  “Okay!” Ilya answered, running toward the back of the car to check her luggage.

  They got inside, ready to leave.

  “Madam, why are you the one driving? You could’ve asked the driver,” Clarisse questioned.

  “I wanted to keep this trip for family only,” Celina replied casually, adjusting her grip on the steering wheel. “And I’m quite good with a car. Or do you doubt that?”

  “No, no, Miss. It’s nothing like that. I just asked out of curiosity. But… why did you bring me if you wanted it to be family only?”

  Celina glanced at her through the rearview mirror, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

  “Oh? Are you seriously asking that?”

  “What do you mean, Madam?” Clarisse asked, confused.

  “Clarisse… you’ve been here long enough. You’re already part of this family. Whether you realize it or not.”

  Ilya nodded firmly.

  “Mom’s right. You’re like a big sister to me.”

  Clarisse lowered her gaze, her face flushing as she tried to hide the soft smile forming on her lips.

  “Thank you, Madam… for always treating me so kindly.”

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  “Anyway,” Celina said lightly, “we don’t want to reach Waterela when it’s closed, right? Let’s be on our way.”

  She adjusted the rearview mirror slightly and fastened her seatbelt.

  “Seatbelt,” she reminded.

  Ilya obeyed—reluctantly.

  The engine hummed to life.

  The tires rolled forward.

  Gravel shifted beneath them as the car eased out of the driveway and onto the road.

  They drove through the city, the morning traffic light and steady, until Ilya suddenly pressed closer to the window.

  “Look, Mom! There are so many swans and ducks swimming!”

  “I can’t, Ilya. I’m driving,” Celina replied without taking her eyes off the road.

  Ilya strained against the seatbelt.

  “Ugh… I’ll just remove it for a bit.”

  “No. Keep it on. You can still see the lake without removing it,” Celina said firmly.

  “I’ll just take it off for a bit, Mom,” Ilya dismissed, unbuckling herself.

  She stood on the seat to get a better view.

  At that exact moment—

  The car made a sharp left turn.

  The sudden force threw Ilya backward, and she crashed into Celina, knocking her hands off the steering wheel.

  As Celina struggled to regain control—

  “Madam! Look!” Clarisse shouted from the back.

  Celina’s gaze snapped forward.

  A truck.

  Too close.

  There was no space left to turn. No time left to react.

  In that final instant, Celina did not try to save the car.

  She turned toward Ilya.

  She wrapped her arms tightly around her daughter, shielding her with her own body.

  The world tilted.

  Metal collided with metal.

  The sound echoed violently, swallowing everything.

  —

  Clarisse regained consciousness first.

  Her ears rang. Her vision blurred.

  When her sight cleared, she turned toward the front seat—

  And horror filled her eyes.

  “Madam!” she screamed.

  Celina coughed weakly.

  “Cla… risse… take Ilya… and go…”

  Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Madam… I can’t. I can’t leave you here—”

  “Clarisse…” Celina interrupted softly. “You know… it’s over for me. Please… I beg you. Take Ilya… and leave.”

  Clarisse’s eyes fell to the shattered glass embedded in Celina’s back.

  Her legs were crushed beneath the dashboard.

  Ilya lay unconscious in her arms.

  “I… understand,” Clarisse whispered, forcing herself to move.

  “Thank… you,” Celina breathed.

  Tears streamed down Clarisse’s face as she carefully pulled Ilya away.

  A faint smile formed on Celina’s lips.

  And then—

  She closed her eyes.

  —

  Clarisse began kicking at the door, trying desperately to force it open.

  People who had witnessed the crash rushed forward.

  One of them finally managed to pull the door open and helped Clarisse and Ilya out of the wreckage.

  Someone called an ambulance.

  Others tried to apply first aid.

  But the damage had already been done.

  Back at the mansion, Ian Vexwood sat in his office.

  He glanced at the clock.

  Celina had said she would call when they reached the park.

  Why hadn’t she?

  A subtle unease began to settle in his chest.

  When he finally decided to call her—

  His phone rang.

  An unknown number.

  Ian answered.

  As he lifted the phone to his ear, the color drained from his face.

  His expression twisted.

  The phone slipped from his hand and hit the floor.

  The ambulance arrived at the scene.

  But it was already too late.

  Celina Vexwood had passed away.

  —

  Ian rushed into the hospital, asking for Celina.

  No one answered immediately.

  That was enough.

  He saw Ilya first.

  She was sitting on a metal bench, her hands clenched tightly in her lap, dried streaks of tears lining her cheeks.

  Her eyes were empty.

  He walked toward her slowly.

  She looked up at him.

  For a second—

  She opened her mouth.

  But no words came out.

  He knelt in front of her.

  He checked her arms. Her shoulders. Her face.

  No major injuries.

  He nodded once.

  He still didn’t ask.

  He didn’t need to.

  The silence around them was too careful.

  “Take her home,” he told the servants.

  Ilya grabbed his sleeve.

  “Dad—”

  He gently removed her hand.

  “Go.”

  She didn’t resist again.

  Later—

  The corridor leading to the mortuary was quiet.

  Too quiet.

  Each step Ian took sounded louder than it should have.

  The doctor stopped in front of a door.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Ian did not respond.

  The sheet was pulled back.

  Celina lay there.

  Still.

  Her hair had been brushed away from her face.

  As if she were sleeping.

  Ian stared at her for a long time.

  His hand twitched slightly—

  But he did not touch her.

  Because if he did—

  It would become real.

  After a while, he spoke.

  “…You promised you’d call.”