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Chapter 5
Savannah clenched her jaw, forcing her tone to stay calm.
“If you truly believe that, then fine. Keep telling yourself whatever helps you sleep at night.‘
“I don’t have the time or energy for your moral gymnastics.”
Delilah’s smile cracked for the first time. She grabbed Savannah by the wrist and yanked her into Julian’s study like it was her own.
With practiced ease, Delilah keyed in the code to Julian’s safe–something he’d never let Savannah touch- -and pulled out
documents.
She tossed them at Savannah like garbage.
“Take a good look, Ms. Doyle.”
She folded her arms, her expression smug.
a set of
www
“You and Julian? Already divorced. It’s right there in black and white. Your signature’s at the bottom–though I suppose you didn’t
realize it at the time.”
“But you’re a lawyer. You know how this works. It’s binding. The marriage is over.
She gave a small, theatrical sigh.
“Yes, it’s true–Julian filed because I couldn’t tolerate being part of some messy triangle. But I thought you deserved hear it from
me, in case you’re still planning to stick around like some ghost from his past.”
“Technically, you don’t even have the right to step foot in this house anymore. But I’ll give you a few days to pack up. I’m kind like
that.”
Savannah flipped through the divorce papers, front to back.
She didn’t need to ask if they were real. She knew. Julian didn’t make legal mistakes. Not with contracts. Not with clean exits.
What stung wasn’t the legality–it was how quiet it all was. How easy.
She’d been agonizing over how to end things properly, and here he was, already two steps ahead.
There was a small, bitter relief in knowing it was over. But that didn’t soften the blow.
Five years of marriage. Five years of storms and survival and trying to make it work.
And this was how it ended. Quiet. Pathetic. Forgotten.
She ignored Delilah’s smug face and folded the documents neatly, tucking them into her bag.
“Well then,” she said, voice cold. “Congratulations. I hope you two rot in peace.”
The last four words were like shards of glass on her tongue.
Savannah didn’t sleep that night.
She packed in silence. Box after box.
Everything she owned, she pulled from closets and drawers, sectioned off from the spaces that had once been shared.
She found out Julian and Delilah would be away the next morning, and wasted no time.
She called a courier service to pick everything up.
When the delivery guy arrived and saw all the designer dresses, the jewelry, the boxes lined with velvet, his eyes went wide.
“Ma’am,” he stammered. “Are you sure you got the destination right? This stuff’s listed for the municipal incinerator.”
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Savannah walked out with the last box, her face blank.
“That’s correct.”
She slid an extra tip into his hand.
“Please make sure it all burns. I want nothing back.”
Everything had been a gift from Julian.
But if the man who gave them meant nothing now, then the gifts were just trash–pretty garbage soaked in betrayal.
She had barely shut the door when her phone rang.
It was her mother.
The background noise was chaotic, voices overlapping, wind cutting through the signal.
And then came Helen’s panicked, broken voice: “Savannah, someone’s trying to take over Emily’s grave The Werte d
“She’s dead, and they’re still trying to take things from her. My poor Emily… she can’t even should’ve protected her…”
Savannah did everything she could to calm her, but her hands were already shaking.
She raced over as fast as she could.
What she saw when she arrived made her blood run cold.
site.
rest in peace this
A pair of security guards–built like linebackers–were shoving her mother back across the grass.
Helen stumbled, falling hard, but even then, she clutched the urn tight against her chest, shielding it like it
She winced, breath knocked out of her. Her knees scraped, her arms trembling.
But she didn’t let go.
Her eyes–those tired, weather–worn eyes–were filled with desperation and rage.
Savannah rushed to her side, catching her before she fell again.
“Mom–who did this?!”
Helen clung to her like a lifeline, her voice shaking but sharp.
“It was her,” she whispered. “Her.”
She pointed ahead.
And Savannah followed her gaze–to the very last person she ever wanted to see again.
Delilah.
Calm. Composed. Looking not the least bit guilty.
was
Emily herself.
“She said her dog died,” Helen choked out. “And she wanted a peaceful place for the burial. So she took Emily’s plot. Just took it, like my daughter didn’t matter.”
Chapter 5
