Chapter 93: Mother
>Alisha
"That red head is such a pain in the ass." I huffed as I pushed myself up from the recliner, the leather creaking under the sudden movement. The crumpled document from where I had pressed too hard lay wrinkled on the table, its edges bent and ink slightly smudged.
I leaned against the table, my palm anchoring me as my grip on the wooden surface tightened, fingers digging into the polished grain.
"It’s only been 3 days since the accident and he seems to be getting really close to finding his answer." My jaw tightened, a dull ache forming from clenching it too long. I worked my ass off to swipe it all clean—I can’t have it get discovered just because someone was a little too motivated to find shit.
My fingers curled against the table before I straightened slightly, dragging in a slow breath through my nose.
Kaizer Bryce. The intelligence agency that he runs underground is close to none at finding information. I’ve already been having a hard time scrubbing everything clean since Mal married that man. But now that something happened to her, he’s more motivated than usual.
I began pacing behind the table, heels tapping sharply against the floor, arms folding tightly across my chest before unfolding again in agitation.
"Should I use the insurance we gathered to disrupt his workflow?" I asked Marcus out of frustration, glancing at him over my shoulder.
"I don’t think that’s a good idea." Marcus replied, shifting his weight from one foot to another, hands clasping behind his back. "Venzrich Archeval treasures his wife so much that they might just put this issue aside just to keep working on finding the culprit."
Right. Then all of our hard work will be for nothing.
My nails pressed into my palms as my hands slowly curled into fists. While I appreciate that he loved my sister so much, I can’t let them be together. If only he was a different person.
I exhaled sharply through my nose and turned away, staring blankly at the far wall.
"This is all because of that curse blood of his." I grumbled under my breath, fingers tightening at my sides. "What a cruel game of fate."
"By the way, aren’t you going today?" Marcus asked.
I raised one arm and tilted my wrist toward me, the faint ticking of my watch filling the brief silence. The glass caught the light as I squinted at the time.
It’s already past 12.
"Right, I should probably get going now." I nodded, lowering my arm.
"Did you clear off my remaining schedule for today?" I asked while gathering the scattered documents on my desk. I aligned their edges carefully, tapping the stack twice against the table to level them before sliding them neatly into the drawer and pushing it shut.
"Yes, madame." His reply was short, posture straight as ever.
"Alright, let’s go then. Let’s just settle everything once we get back." I exhaled softly before reaching for my handbag and slipping it over my shoulder.
Marcus quickly stepped ahead and opened the door for me, then adjusted his pace to walk precisely beside me.
What an uptight man. He’s been serving me for so long, but he was still as strict when it comes to work.
Still, I would prefer it if he smiled a little since today is such a depressing day.
Geez. Never mind, I guess.
As soon as we entered the car, I leaned back into the leather seat and closed my eyes, resting my temple lightly against the window. The door shut with a muted thud. Marcus started the engine, the low hum filling the quiet space. He didn’t say a word the entire ride.
When I opened my eyes again, we were still on the road. Buildings blurred past the window until my gaze caught the small flower shop along the street.
I didn’t have to say anything. Marcus noticed it too and smoothly pulled the car over to the side.
I just shook my head faintly before pushing the door open and stepping out.
As soon as I opened the flower shop door, a small bell chimed overhead. The fragrant scent of flower pollen and fresh stems drifted toward me, soft and earthy.
"Oh, you’re here! I thought you wouldn’t stop by." An old woman smiled warmly as soon as she saw me walk in. "I was waiting for you before I close today," she added.
I walked toward her. She was holding a small spray bottle in her hand, misting the petals gently.
"Are you closing early?" I asked, confused, glancing down at my watch again. It’s only 2 p.m. in the afternoon.
"Yes, today my son came home from abroad and we will be going to celebrate his return." She recalled it with a smile that stretched from ear to ear, her whole face lighting up. "But I figured you won’t find any other flower shop around this area, so I opened and waited for you..."
She walked toward the display, carefully selecting a nicely arranged lilac bouquet before bringing it back and placing it in my hands.
"I’ve been running this place for 12 years and I never saw you miss this day even once. You even came here every day once—you basically kept this shop going!" she teased.
"You’re too good. I can just make my driver buy a flower for me. You shouldn’t have waited for me," I replied, accepting the lilac from her hands. "But thank you anyway, your arrangement is the best in this area."
I smiled faintly as I lifted the bouquet and gently inhaled its scent. It looked as pretty as it always had.
"If you don’t mind me asking... Is the one buried at the columbarium your mother?" she asked. Her eyes weren’t on me but on something she was pulling out from behind the counter.
The question took me by surprise. My fingers tightened slightly around the stems, but I kept my smile and nodded.
"Yes, she was my mother." I answered, reaching into my purse and pulling out a bill before placing it on the counter. "Here. Keep the change."
"Huh? No. This is too much!" She pushed the money back toward me and instead placed a small box of cut fruit on the table. "And here, take this."
"Oh? Is this a peach?" I asked, lifting the transparent packaging slightly to look at it.
"Yes, my son bought it for me," she said proudly. "I wanted to share it with you since he brought a lot. Eat it with your mother."
"Anyway, just take the flower and the peach. It’s my gift for you for being such a good patron."
I tried more than once to slide the money back to her, but she firmly pushed my hand away each time with surprising strength. Eventually, I gave up with a quiet sigh.
I placed the box of peaches carefully on my lap as soon as I entered the car, closing the door gently.
"That old woman can be so strong at times," I muttered, shaking my head slightly.
"Let’s go," I ordered.
Marcus nodded once and started the car, merging back onto the road.
When we arrived at the columbarium, there was no one there. The air felt still, Marcus quickly reached the staff as I went through inside on my own.
The sound of my heels clicking against the marbled floor echoed through the long, quiet halls as I ran my fingers at the display.
Rows upon rows of urns lined the walls, neatly displayed behind glass. I walked past them without slowing until I stopped in front of the porcelain urn placed in the middle row.
The urn looked cheap and slightly crooked and there is no decoration aside from the wilted flower that I placed there from my last visit. It wasn’t the best-looking urn in the slightest and it looked the loneliest.
I lifted my hand and gently ran my fingers over the cool glass surface before opening the small compartment. I carefully placed the lilac bouquet—her favorite flower—into one of the jars inside and closed it with the same gentleness.
Then I lowered myself to sit beside it, smoothing my skirt as I settled on the bench. The cold marbled floor brought a chill that crawled down my skin.
"It would’ve felt less lonely if you were actually here with me. Don’t you think?" I glanced up at the name engraved beneath the urn. "...Trisha?"
A dull ache spread through my chest, slow and heavy. I clutched my chest to calm the pain I felt. A wave of emptiness surged through me—yet somehow, I felt less empty than the urn itself.
"Madame, there is an emergency." Marcus ran to me, his face flashed with worry.
And as soon as I heard what he had to say next, something inside me broke. A surge of panic raised through me shotting me up my foot and the next thing I knew I was running.
