My Boyfriend Called My Mother’S ICU A Bottomless Pit And Her Startup A Gift Chapter 06

My Boyfriend Called My Mother’S ICU A Bottomless Pit And Her Startup A Gift Chapter 06

I handled my mother’s funeral alone.

Dashiell showed up the next day.

He wore a black suit and carried a bouquet of white lilies. When he stopped at the entrance of the viewing room, his face was pale.

I stood beside my mother’s framed photo and looked at him.

“Get out.”

Dashiell’s steps halted.

“Sable, I’m here to say goodbye to Mom.”

“She wasn’t your mom.”

My voice was flat.

“She was dying while you were sitting with Elodie through an IV.”

A few relatives in the room turned to look at us.

Dashiell swallowed, his voice hoarse.

“I didn’t know it would…”

I cut him off.

“You knew.”

“When I called you, I told you she was crashing.”

“When I begged you for money, I told you the doctors were waiting.”

“You were the one who said adults shouldn’t rely on other people. You told me to handle it myself.”

The color slowly drained from Dashiell’s face.

His fingers tightened around the lilies until the stems almost snapped.

“I’m sorry, Sable.”

I looked at him, and those three words suddenly sounded absurdly small.

My mother looked back at me from a framed photograph. My child had not even left behind a single ultrasound image.

And he thought “I’m sorry” could still mean anything.

Elodie came too.

She stood outside the viewing room with red eyes, holding a delicate paper bag in her hand. When she saw me, she spoke in a small voice.

“Sable, I really didn’t know your mother would pass.”

“That day, I only had stomach pain. Mr. Veyne insisted on taking me to the hospital. I tried to tell him not to…”

I walked over and slapped her across the face.

The sound cracked through the room.

For a moment, the entire funeral home went silent.

Elodie covered her cheek. Tears spilled instantly.

Dashiel took a step forward on instinct.

“Sable.”

I turned to him.

“Feeling sorry for her already?”

He froze.

I pointed toward the door.

“Take her and get out.”

“Don’t stain my mother’s goodbye.”

Elodie cried even harder.

“I only came to apologize…”

“Apologize?”

I looked at her.

“When you took his $600,000 to start your company, did you know my mother was in the ICU?”

Her face went white.

I continued, “When you asked him to take you to the hospital, did you know I was begging him to save a life?”

“Elodie, stop playing innocent.”

“One of you enjoyed being favored. The other treated that favoritism like it was owed.”

“Neither of you is blameless.”

Elodie’s tears froze on her face.

Dashiell’s voice dropped low and rough.

“Sable, enough.”

I looked at him.

“Not even close.”

“My mother is dead.”

“My child is gone.”

“What makes either of you think one sorry is enough?”

Dashiell’s eyes reddened sharply.

But I didn’t look at him again.

After the funeral, I went straight to Pryce & Calder LLP.

Hollis Pryce, the divorce attorney I had hired weeks ago, spread the documents across the conference table one page at a time.

“You’re sure you want to pursue a revised division of marital assets?”

“Yes.”

“In Veyne Capital’s early days, you put in $370,000. Without a promissory note, it may get complicated.”

I pushed a flash drive across the table.

“Wire records, messages, emails, voice notes. I organized everything.”

Hollis looked at me.

“You came prepared.”

I lowered my eyes.

“I didn’t come prepared.”

“I just finally decided to stop protecting his dignity.”

That night, Dashiell waited for me outside my mother’s old apartment building.

He looked exhausted. His eyes were streaked red.

The second he saw me, he straightened.

“Sable. We need to talk.”

I tried to step around him, but he reached out and blocked my way.

“I read the agreement.”

I stopped.

“And?”

His voice was badly hoarse.

“I can’t sign it.”

I gave a short laugh.

“What can’t you do, Dashiell?”

“You could refuse emergency money. You could take Elodie to the hospital.”

“But now that it’s time to sign, suddenly you can’t?”

The blood drained from his face.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

I looked up at him.

“Did you think that as long as you refuse to sign, I’ll have to stay trapped in this marriage?”

His throat moved.

“I just want to make it up to you.”

“How?”

I stepped closer.

“Tell me, Dashiell. What exactly can you make up for?”

His expression faltered.

“My mother is dead. Our child is gone.”

The light faded from his eyes.

I looked at him and said each word slowly. “So don’t insult me with that.”

His fingers trembled hard.

I pushed past him and went upstairs.

This time, he didn’t dare follow.