Chapter 4

After I sent the divorce papers, I blocked Weston everywhere and moved out to a quiet old house by the sea. I'd been there about three weeks.

In that time, my body gave out faster than I expected.

I started coughing up blood. I got thinner by the day, and my nails turned a bluish white.

Corven never seemed to tire of any of it. Every time the pain had me shaking, he'd put those cold hands on me and press it down, bit by bit, until it let go.

He even learned to cook. Reapers don't need to eat, but he'd follow a recipe, measuring everything down to the gram, and make me a pot of pumpkin soup.

The first batch was too sweet. I took two spoonfuls and set it aside. The next day he cut the sugar in half, said nothing about it, and just pushed the bowl over to me.

I had three days left.

That morning, I went to pick up a dress.

An old tailor was making it for me. He ran a bridal shop that had been there for decades, and he'd known my mother years ago. I'd asked him for the simplest white satin gown he could make. No lace, no beading, nothing extra.

Corven was out handling some paperwork for after I was gone. If I got too far from him the pain came back, but I wanted to collect this dress alone.

It started the second I walked through the door. My bones began to burn, inch by inch. I kept a hand on the counter and did my best to stay steady so the old man wouldn't notice.

He came out from the back with the gown over his arms and shook it out for me. It was beautiful.

"I took it in another size, sweetheart, just like you asked." He looked at me and sighed. "How did you get so thin?"

"I haven't had much appetite lately." I reached out and touched the cool satin, and I smiled at him. "Thank you for rushing it. What do I owe you? I'll send it over now."

"You don't owe me anything." He waved a hand. "Your mother helped me once, a long time ago. Call this paying her back."

I was about to thank him when someone kicked the door open.

It swung wide and hit the wall.

Weston came in. His eyes were bloodshot, his tie was crooked, and he looked like he hadn't slept in days and was ready to blow.

"Vera! How long are you planning to hide from me?" He crossed the room and grabbed my shoulder.

His grip was hard enough to hurt down to the bone. With Corven gone, there was nothing holding the pain back, and my vision started to go. I clenched my teeth and just barely stayed on my feet.

I turned to face him. "Mr. Ashford, we've signed divorce papers. What you're doing right now is harassment."

"Divorce? I haven't signed anything. What divorce?" He glared at me through his teeth, and then his eyes went to the white gown on the counter.

He stopped for a second. Then a nasty smile pulled at his mouth.

"So that's why you've suddenly grown a spine. Hiding from me, refusing to see me." He shoved me aside, walked over, and snatched up the gown. "You had a wedding dress made. You thought playing hard to get would remind me of our anniversary and I'd come running back?"

The veins stood out on the back of his hand where he was holding it. He looked at me like he'd been played and hated me for it.

"You make me sick, Vera."

"Let go of it," I said.

"No. You love a performance, don't you? Let's give you a real one."

He got both hands on the satin and pulled.

It split down the middle, one long clean tear, and the gown came apart in two pieces. He threw them down at my feet.

The old tailor started forward. "What is the matter with you? That dress is—"

"Shut up." Weston cut him off. "Name your price. I'll pay you ten times what it's worth."

Then he turned back to me and stared, waiting for me to break. To cry. To beg him.

I didn't.

I looked down at the two halves of white satin by my feet, and something about it struck me as funny.

"You've got this wrong, Weston." I raised my head and smiled at that furious face of his. There was nothing behind the smile at all.

"It isn't a wedding dress."

I looked him in the eye and said it slowly, one word at a time.

"It's the dress I picked out to be buried in."