Chapter 3 - The Gathering Storm
The funeral was a quiet, agonizing affair.
Sarah planned every detail herself. She paid for it using her own savings. When Marcus’s parents called, sobbing and begging for details, she gave them the address but added one strict condition: If Marcus is there, there will be no funeral.
Marcus tried to attend anyway. He showed up at the cemetery in a black suit, looking hollowed out. But Sarah had hired two off-duty police officers. When Marcus stepped out of his car, they blocked his path.
"You don't belong here, sir," the officer said firmly.
"He's my son!" Marcus screamed, tears streaming down his face as he watched the tiny white casket being lowered into the ground from a hundred yards away. His own mother looked back at him from the graveside, shook her head in shame, and turned away.
Sarah stood in the rain, wearing black, tossing a single white rose onto the casket. She didn't shed a tear at the cemetery. She was saving her energy.
The day after the funeral, she didn't go back to the empty house they shared. She went to the sleek, glass-paneled office of Robert Sterling, the most ruthless divorce and civil litigation attorney in Seattle.
She slid a manila folder across his mahogany desk. It contained the hospital triage logs, which she had requested, and Marcus’s phone records.
May you like
"I don't just want a divorce, Mr. Sterling," Sarah said, her voice like crushed glass. "I want to ruin him. Financially, professionally, and legally."
Sterling opened the folder. He read the triage timeline. A slow, predatory smile spread across the lawyer's face. "Oh, Mrs. Kensington. We aren't just going to ruin him. We're going to put him in a cage."
