The Secret Heiress | ✔️

11 | 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝙰𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚢

☘︎ Lʏᴋᴀs Vɪᴛᴀʟʟɪs ☘︎

Cemeteries always gave me a sense of foreboding.

The Greenwood cemetry despite being one of the most beautiful monumental spots in New York with it's rich greenery-filled massive burial grounds and the architecture designed in the style of four dynasties, still held the gloom of a graveyard.

A solemn air surrounds the place as we all light a candle and place a single chrysanthemum flower each between the foot of the two gravestones, paying our respect to the deceased.

Irene and Violet Davidson's death anniversary ceremony began at the break of dawn. The Davidsons-except Mia who'd developed slight chest pain after her sharp-shooting episode yesterday and was resting back home-and few of their close ones gathered near the oval lake where the graves were dug.

From the corner of my eyes, I spot Jennifer standing the farthest from the crowd, too still for even her stoic self. She's in a black dress, her hair bound in a loose ponytail at her nape, matching black stilettos covering her feet and pearl earrings adorning her ears. Regardless of the fact we were in a literal death anniversary ceremony, I couldn't help but conclude how beautiful she looks.

To say I'd been surprised when I saw her today morning at the villa when we were leaving for the cemetry would be an understatement. Some lame part of me that I didn't want to acknowledge, was actually content and happy at her staying back and not returning to London yet.

I'd tried to tease by asking her whether she decided to stay because she'd miss being apart from me just to annoy her, but when I'd seen the icy look on her face and the way she seemed to be occupied by her own thoughts, I'd decided against it.

That icy look still remained, but there was a strange emotion coasting her features. Something akin to guilt and longing.

Before I could ponder over it, Samuel's clear voice through the small mike, pulls my focus to him.

Standing atop a raised podium, Samuel Davidson is in a black tux similar to my own, his salt and pepper hair neatly gelled back on his head. Those deep, strangely familiar green eyes lock on each one of us as he looks around at the people gathered.

Samuel begins, "It's been ten years since I lost Irene and Violet. While nothing can alleviate their loss, I want them to know that there will never be a moment where I am not remembering them, missing them, reliving the old memories we shared and. . ." He gazes down at his hand, then I see his eyes flicker to Jennifer for the tiniest of moment where she stares at him straight-on from feets away, "I wish them happiness wherever they are now."

Because there was never a moment when my partial attention wasn't captured by Jennifer Ryson, I notice the way her body goes rigid. She grips the chrysanthemum in her hand so tight, it's petals crush under the pressure.

"I thank you all for being present here for my late wife and. . ." His voice seem to catch in his throat for a while, ". . .my daughter's death anniversary."

It was a short speech, but there was so much emotion filled in it that a peaceful silence stretches. I could still feel the solemn effects of his words when everyone moved over to the breakfast buffet held in honor of the deceased.

Samuel was donating a generous amount to few of the foster homes his late wife visited and when he too went to attend to the incharges of those orphanages with Moon beside him, there was no one left lingering around the graves anymore.

No one except my business rival.

Little strands of her hair blew in the whispy cold wind. There was a slight vulnerability present in the sharp angles of her features as she gazed down at the water in the lake with a lost look on her face. It's unbelievable how breathtaking she is just standing there. But something wasn't right. . .