Once My Only, Now Just a Memory Chapter 15

Once My Only, Now Just a Memory Chapter 15

Brielle was still wearing a red coat.

But the years had stolen Her youthful charm, leaving her face looking sharp and bitter.

Beside her stood a young boy of about four.

Five years was a long time. It was enough for my pain to dull, for my memories to fade.

But seeing that child, a wave of pure, unadulterated hatred swept over me.

Why?

Why did my daughter have to die in pain, while the child of her killer got to grow up happy and healthy?

“Are you mute? Speak!” Brielle snarled, stepping closer. “Did your dead parents teach you to be a homewrecker?”

My hands clenched into fists. Without a word, I stepped forward and slapped her across the face.

Brielle stumbled, completely shocked.

Before she could speak, I struck her again.

The little boy began to cry loudly, tugging at my coat. “Bad woman! Don’t hit my mommy! My daddy will punish you!”

I pushed the boy away. He tumbled to the floor and began to wail.

Brielle went wild with rage. “Are you insane? That is Milo! He is Cillian’s only son!”

“Yes, I am insane!”

I grabbed Brielle by her hair, pulling her forward. “When Lumi died, I swore if I ever saw you again, I would kill you!”

Brielle screamed in pain, struggling against my grip.

She managed to break free, her neat hair ruined, looking completely disheveled.

I was no longer the quiet girl she could bully.

I had crawled out of the slums, worked my way to Harvard, and survived. I had only tolerated her abuse because of Lumi.

Now that Lumi was gone, I had nothing left to lose.

“Do you think I am afraid of you?” Brielle sneered, a cruel light returning to her eyes. “Lumi is buried at

Westbridge, right?”.

“Isent tuy men there before I came here.”

“By now, your daughter ashes have been scattered into the wind!”

My breath caught in my throat. “What did you say?”

“Are you deaf? Your daughter’s grave is gone!” Brielle laughed-maniacally. “They sent me photos. Do you want to see?”

My entire body began to shake. I wanted to tear her face apart, but my limbs refused to move.

A familiar pressure built in my chest.

I couldn’t breathe. My ears began to ring, and the world started to fade.

My therapist had told me this was a severe post-traumatic response.

My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the floor.

Before I lost consciousness completely, I saw a figure rush through the door.

Cillian scooped me into his arms.

“Flora!”