It was a sinner's suicide for anyone to work at Coopers Incorporation. It was no surprise that people aimed to stray far from the Devil known as Mr Elijah Cooper.
Cold, demanding, and rough, he ruled over everything with an iron grip and a calculati...
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Nora's P.O.V
The day of the funeral arrived. Jane had taken care of everything—the arrangements, the coffin, the service. She had even gone with me to choose the casket, making sure it was perfect. But nothing about this felt real. I hadn't slept all night, struggling to put my grief into words for the eulogy. It had to be perfect. She deserved that much.
I pulled out a knee-length black dress and slipped into it, my fingers trembling. My reflection in the mirror was barely recognizable—red, swollen eyes, dark circles carving deep hollows beneath them. I looked as dead inside as I felt. I ran a bit of foundation under my eyes, not to hide the grief, but to keep people from offering their useless sympathy. I was exhausted from hearing, "I'm sorry for your loss," from people who would forget about this by tomorrow.
Nina hadn’t spoken much since it happened. She clung to me in silence, too young to process the weight of this loss, but old enough to feel it. I knelt before her, brushing her hair back, forcing a small smile.
"We’ll get through this together, Nina. Always." My voice was steadier than I felt.
Her small hands gripped mine. "Do you think Mom is an angel now?" Her voice was soft, innocent. "People say good people become angels when they die."
The words cracked something inside me. I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"She was always an angel," I whispered, pulling her into my arms. "And she always will be."
Nina hugged me back, but I could feel her tiny frame shaking. She was trying to be strong, for me. But she was nine. She shouldn't have to.
We arrived at the funeral home within minutes. The air was thick with sorrow, the weight of loss pressing against my chest. My mother lay still inside the coffin, looking as beautiful as ever. Just like she was asleep. But I knew better.
People gathered in groups, whispering, crying, offering their condolences. Dr. Arthur was sobbing into his hands. My mother had meant something to so many people, and yet none of them could bring her back.
Then my eyes landed on him.
Elijah.
Dressed in a black tux, his hair slightly disheveled, he stood at a distance, watching. I never expected to see him here. After everything, after the way I had left… Why was he here? To watch me break? To revel in my suffering? Our eyes met for a fraction of a second before I looked away, pretending he wasn’t there. I didn’t need his pity.
