Chapter 3

The next day, I didn't deliver the keys.

Corven took me to the amusement park instead, pushing me in a wheelchair.

The cancer had reached my legs by then, and I couldn't get far on my own anymore. Corven turned up with a wheelchair from somewhere and put me in it whether I liked it or not.

"It's one of the things you've been wanting to do." He looked at me, his voice as level as ever. "Bucket lists. What a waste of time."

"If it's such a waste, Lord Reaper, you don't have to come." I looked down at the cotton candy he'd just bought and pushed into my hands, and the corner of my mouth lifted.

"No. You're too weak now. Get too far from me and the pain I'm holding back comes straight home. It would kill you."

We took our time in the sunshine. It was one of the few quiet hours I had left, and I meant to enjoy it.

Then a soft, sweet voice cut through it.

"Weston, look. Isn't that Vera?"

I raised my head. Weston and Emmeline were standing a little way off. She had a cotton candy exactly like mine and was leaning into him.

His eyes landed on my wheelchair, and he frowned. He came straight over and stood there looking down at me.

"Are you following me, Vera?" His voice was full of mockery. "You want my attention so badly you're in a wheelchair now? Playing crippled? How much lower can you get?"

Emmeline came up behind him, soft and fragile. "Vera, if you're angry with me, hit me, yell at me, whatever you want. Just don't wish something like this on yourself."

Looking at the two of them, all I could think was how ridiculous they were.

"The world doesn't revolve around you, Weston," I said calmly. "Now move. You're blocking my sun."

That set him off. He reached out to tip the chair over. "Get up. Stop embarrassing yourself out here."

His hand was almost on the armrest when Corven moved.

He just lifted one finger.

Weston's foot caught on nothing. He went straight down into the flower bed beside us and came up with a mouth full of dirt.

"Weston!" Emmeline screamed and ran to help him.

He got to his feet, filthy, and glared at Corven. "You dare put your hands on me?"

"I didn't touch you." Corven said it like a simple fact. "You're just stupid. You can't even walk properly."

"You—"

"Mr. Ashford." A man in a suit came hurrying over. Weston's assistant. He had a folder in his hands, and he stopped short when he saw the state of his boss.

"What," Weston snapped.

"The gallery transfer papers you asked me to prepare." The assistant snuck a glance at me. "Ms. Lowe needs to sign."

Weston smiled coldly and turned to me. "You're so tough these days, Vera. Sign the gallery over to Emmy, then. Go on."

That gallery was my mother's. It was the last thing she built, and once upon a time it was the thing I cared about most in the world. He was certain I'd never give it up. He was certain I'd fold, just to keep it.

I looked at that smug face of his and put my hand out.

"Give me a pen."

The assistant blinked, then handed one over in a hurry.

I opened the folder, went straight to the last page, and signed my name without reading a word of it. One clean signature. No hesitation.

Then I tossed the folder back to him.

"The gallery's yours, Weston. So is the money. We're square."

He stared down at the signed papers, and the smugness slid right off his face. His mouth opened. Whatever he meant to say, it didn't come out.

"You think signing it gets you off the hook?" He reached for me without thinking.

Corven stepped in front of my chair.

I took out my phone and hit send.

Weston's phone went off in his pocket.

I looked at him, and there was nothing warm left in my voice. "I emailed you the divorce papers, Weston. From today on, stay out of my life."

Corven turned my chair around, and we left.