Stay Dead This Time Chapter 13
Every day, Vivienne wept. Every day, she begged. She said she knew she had been wrong. She said she should not have favored Daphne, should not have enabled Stellan’s scheme.
I just smiled and said nothing.
In my last life, she favored Daphne for 20 years. For 20 years, she watched Ansel suffer. She watched me be humiliated. She watched Daphne strip me of everything I had, one piece at a time, and never once said a word against it.
She knew she was wrong now? Well, it was too late.
The days passed, one after another.
Stellan’s body deteriorated. No medicine, no proper food. Coupled with the tendons in his hands and feet severed) he broke down quickly. He started coughing blood, running fevers that would not break, and talking to people who were not there.
I did not send for a doctor.
In my last life, when Ansel was burning with fever, Daphne would not allow a doctor to be called either. In this life, consider it a debt repaid.
Finally, on a night one month later, Stellan died.
When he went, his lips were still moving. I had to lean close to make out the word. It was Ansel’s name.
I stood in the doorway of the cell for a long time without speaking. Then, I had his body wrapped in a straw mat and thrown into the common burial ground. It was not an act of cruelty. He simply did not deserve more than that.
Daphne died a few days later. She starved to death. From beginning to end, I never went to see her again.
Three months later, the king granted his approval for the Montclair title to pass to Ansel. He was only five years old, the youngest lord in the entire capital.
The day the news spread, Everett came to see me and brought good wine and a proper meal.
“Elara, you’ve been through so much.” He poured me a glass. “From now on, as long as I’m here, no one touches you.”
I raised the glass and drank it in one go. The wine burned, and I coughed until my eyes watered, but my heart was
warm.
In my last life, Everett died trying to get justice for me, and Stellan had him killed for it. In this life, he was alive and well, still the same brilliant, spirited eldest son of the Renworth family.
“Everett.” I set the glass down and looked at him. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He laughed and ruffled my hair. “You’re my sister. If I don’t look out for you, who will?”
I laughed too.
He was right. This life was different.
The day Ansel inherited the title, I took him to the Montclair family chapel to stand before the portraits of every
lord who came before him. It was not for Stellan. It was to let everyone know that from this day forward, this house belonged to my son.
Ansel stood before the wall of portraits, small as he was, with his back perfectly straight. He bowed his head, solemn and deliberate, then turned to look at me.
“Mother, am I really a lord now?”
“You are.”
“Then, can I protect you now?”
I crouched down, straightened his collar, and smiled. “You can.”
Ansel broke into a wide grin, all baby teeth. “I’m going to build you the biggest garden in the world and fill it with flowers. We’ll get a cat, a dog, and a parrot that can talk.”
“Alright. Whatever you want.”
The sun was setting. I took Ansel’s hand and walked out of the shrine. Behind us, the heavy doors swung closed, shutting away everything ugly that had come before.
Ahead of us stretched a road that had never been walked. It was just the two of us, but that was more than enough.
