They Sent Me To Prison For Her, I Bought A Grave For Me Chapter 04

They Sent Me To Prison For Her, I Bought A Grave For Me Chapter 04

My phone rang at five in the morning.

“Is this Ms. Fallow, the owner of Plot 33?” a cemetery employee asked. “That plot has been reassigned. We moved your burial rights to the communal section nearby.”

I sat up sharply.

“I paid for that plot in full a year ago. You had no right to give it to someone else.”

The man gave a dismissive laugh.

“The new buyer offered $120,000. Pay $150,000, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Then his voice turned openly cruel.

“You’ve been holding that plot for a year. If you’d died on schedule, none of this would’ve happened. But you’re still alive, so it was just sitting there going to waste.”

He hung up before I could answer.

I called a cab and rushed to Larkmeadow Memorial Park, cold sweat gathering along my hairline.

Plot 33 was the last place I had left in this world.

When I arrived, Jessa was standing near the grave, directing two workers as they lifted the headstone engraved with my name.

“Get that depressing thing out of here,” she said. “Dump it in the communal section.”

My pulse slammed against my ears.

“What are you doing?”

Jessa turned and smiled. A small urn rested in her hands.

“A spiritual medium told me this was the perfect place for Nimbus to cross over peacefully.”

Nimbus was her Samoyed.

I had lived at the Wexley estate for only three months, and he had bitten me at least ninety times. The worst attack tore a chunk of flesh from my leg.

I had gone to Crispin in tears.

He had only gathered Nimbus into his arms and looked at me as if I were the problem.

“Dogs don’t attack people for no reason, Mirelle. You must have done something to upset him.”

Now Jessa watched me with the same smugness she had worn back then.

I forced my voice to stay calm.

“I bought this plot a year ago. Give it back.”

She laughed and leaned closer.

“You still don’t understand, do you?”

Her smile sharpened.

“If I want something, I get it.”

Then she lowered her voice.

“I know you’re dying.”

My body went still.

“In prison, I made sure the right people took very good care of you.”

The world seemed to drop out from under me.

My hands tightened into fists, but when I finally spoke, my voice was steady.

I smiled. “You’ll pay for this.”

Then I slapped her.

The sound cracked through the cemetery.

“I went to prison for you!” My voice tore from my throat. “Why did you still have to destroy me?”

Jessa screamed and deliberately let the urn fall.

The lid flew off. White ashes scattered across the wet grass and lifted into the wind.

She covered her cheek and burst into tears.

“You can hit me if you hate me, but why would you do that to Nimbus?”

“Apologize to her.”

Crispin’s voice came from behind me.

Something inside me went completely still, but the tears came anyway.

“I have terminal stomach cancer,” I said. “I have days left. Maybe less.”

Crispin’s face changed.

“What did you just say?”

“It’s okay,” Jessa sobbed, cutting him off. “I’ll gather Nimbus’s ashes myself.”

She pulled a folded medical report from her bag.

“Mirelle, buying yourself a fake headstone was already disturbing. Why lie about being sick too?”

She handed the papers to Crispin.

“I was worried about her, so I checked her medical records. Don’t be mad at me.”

Crispin barely glanced at the report before looking back at me.

Confusion hardened into anger.

“You lied constantly in prison. You still haven’t stopped?”

He still didn’t believe me.

The metallic taste of blood rose in my throat.

“No,” I said coldly. “I guess I haven’t.”

His hand struck my face.

My head snapped to the side.

For a second, Crispin simply stared at his own hand. His eyes turned red.

“Mirelle…”

“Don’t touch me.”

I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth.

Crispin stood frozen in front of me. Behind him, Jessa looked almost pleased.

My voice shook, but I forced the words out.

“I never want to see any of you again.”

Pain ripped through my stomach.

I staggered away from them and made it as far as the cemetery gates before blood surged into my mouth.

I bent forward and vomited a pool of black blood onto the pavement.