Chapter 3

MADELYN’S POV

Too stunned to speak, I looked from the reverend to my stepmother. I knew the witch did this. This motherfucking gold-digging wench did this, I thought to myself.

Without a second thought, I sauntered in her direction and stopped when I was only a few inches away from her.

“Hey, Racheal,” I called her name rudely. From the beginning, I have never addressed her as my mom. Because she has never acted like one. “Stop bitching around. You and I know these crocodile tears of yours are nothing but a mere charade. Can you drop the fucking act now?”

Her teary eye-shadowed eyes shot up to mine. “Watch how you speak to me, Madelyn,” she warned in a stern tone. “Or I’ll make you pay.”

“What else can you do?” I scoffed, leaning toward her face. “If I get to find anything suspicious, consider yourself done for. Because I’ll make you pay,” I affirmed with a sad smirk before walking away.

And I meant every single word I said. Should Rachel be found guilty of my father’s death, I will do everything within my power to see her shed blood. At least now, she can shed tears for all I care.

On my way to my room, one of our maids, Clarissa, walked up to me. “Oh, Miss Madelyn, I am so so sorry,” she muttered in a teary tone.

I stretched out my hand to her, and Clarissa ran into my arms. She wrapped her arms around my waist, whispering all sorts of soothing words into my ears. “You are a fighter, the strongest and the most amazing lady I have ever known. Please fight through this. Daddy wouldn’t like to see you weak.”

My eyes moistened with tears. Although Clarissa was our maid, she has always treated me like a little sister and looked out for me. I mumbled a silent ‘thank you’ to her, then I dashed into my room.

I still could not believe the fact that I left this house with my happy and smiling Dad bidding me farewell, only to come back to do the same to him, but this time, it was pretty different.

I wasn’t ever going to see him again.

Time flew by, and the funeral day came in the blink of an eye. I was standing by the dug grave in the cemetery alongside a few of my relatives.

It was funny how most of them pretended to care about Dad. But they didn’t give a shit when he was alive.

My heart broke as the priest began to recite his words.

“Today, we have gathered here to bid our beloved father, brother, and son farewell from the journey of earth. Although he is no more, his memories and spirit still live among us. May the souls of all the faithful departed through the mercy of God rest in peace.”

“Amen,” came our chorused response.

“It is now time for the family to wish him their special farewell one after the other.”

The reverend stepped aside.

I glared at my stepmother and refused for her to go first. She had no right to be the first person to speak to him. He knew me way before he met her. Pushing past her lean figure, I walked over to my father’s casket and buried my head in it.

“Everyone thinks you are dead, Dad,” I sniffled. My eyes were bloody red from crying all this time. “I know you are a strong man, a fighter. Why don’t you come out of there and speak to your beloved daughter, huh?” I asked. Tears were rolling in rivulets down my cheeks. “Isn’t the space too tight for you? How can you be lying in an enclosed space when you’ve got a mansion with ten bedrooms, huh?”

I felt someone pat my back, and I snapped my head in that direction to see my father’s secretary.

His eyes were red, puffy, and swollen like mine. Out of everyone here, he was one of the people I knew who cared and showed deep affection for my father.

“Please, Mr. Ambrose.” I grasped him by the shirt. “Can you please tell him to wake up? Tell him I can’t live without him. He always listens to you since he ain’t doing that to me right now. Maybe, I offended him. I don’t know. But please help me. I can’t live in this wicked world by myself.”

He placed his hand on my shoulders. “He is gone, Miss Madelyn. I am so sorry.”

I shook my head in denial. “No, no, no, no...you can’t tell me that. You can’t fucking take my father away from me!” I wailed profusely. “Oh God, who did I offend? Why did I have to come back home to meet his corpse? He was hale and hearty when I spoke to him yesterday morning! How can a man go from being full of life,” I gestured at his corpse, “to this?”

Mr. Ambrose wrapped his arms around my waist and led me away from the coffin. I cried my eyes out, watching everyone bid him farewell. Feeling perturbed, I shrieked and tried to struggle free from Mr. Ambrose’s grip, but he was too strong for me.

“Just let them bury me with him!” I wept as they lowered his coffin. “No, please...I want to go with him!”

“No, Miss Madelyn....you are more than just a piece of shell. It will get better soon.”

Crawling in my skin, I bubbled up and down, trying to break free. “No, you keep telling me it will get better!” I yelled at him. “Does it ever?”

I felt like giving up. There was absolutely nothing to live for. My whole body felt numb, weird, and sore. I gasped for air that seemed to have eluded my lungs. I don’t think there would be any medicine to cure this pain and agony writhing inside me.

***

Mr. Ambrose drove me home, and Clarissa was busy wiping my body with a cold towel. I stared blankly at my fingers while sitting on the sofa.

Suddenly, the front door opened. My eyes shot up in that direction, hoping my father would walk in with a warm smile on his face. But I was met with disappointment when I saw my stepmother, her daughter, Christine, and a weird-looking man.

The man carried a folder, dressed in a black suit.

“Good afternoon, Miss Madelyn,” he greeted me, but I didn’t attempt to respond. Instead, I continued to stare at my palm. “I have come to read your father’s will.”

My head snapped up to his. What? My father’s will? It was barely forty-eight hours, and his will was about to be read?

What the fuck?!

I twitched my lips and glared at my stepmother. She was doing more than I expected. I regretted the moment my father brought her home as his wife. I regretted the fact that he didn’t listen to me when I spoke against this darn wench.

“Where is my father’s old lawyer, Mr. Devon?” I asked warily.

The supposedly new lawyer cleared his throat. “Well, as you said, old. He has retired and left.”

I clenched the hem of my black dress so tight that I felt it ripped beneath my grasp.

Soon, the lawyer began to read my father’s testament. “On this day, Friday, 24th of July, I, Robert Stone, give my wife, Rachel Stone, and her daughter, Christine, all my properties and assets.”

I wiped my ears with my pinky finger. Did I hear it right?

My stomach sank. I guessed I underestimated Rachel because what the fuck was going on here?