Loved You Once But He's My Forever (Chloe) novel Chapter 526

We sent Jeffrey off, the final step of a long journey. Everything had been planned by him, down to the smallest detail—his burial beside his first wife.

It wasn't in the Bolton family plot, but in a quiet valley, where the air was crisp and the wildflowers bloomed in abundance.

There were no speeches, no grand ceremony. It was just us, the immediate family, standing in silent respect as he was laid to rest.

Carter spoke first, breaking the stillness. "He always said we didn't need to visit on holidays. He owed her too much. She spent her life tied down, trapped by the Bolton name. She never knew a moment of peace. But now, in death, he can finally make it up to her. He has all the time in the world to share with her, to explore the world they never had."

A man who had spent his whole life bound by duty—who would've guessed that in the end, he'd choose to let go?

When the rich are buried, it's always a grand affair—the best time, the best place, the perfect conditions for prosperity and family legacy. People consult experts, check the stars, and ensure that everything is just right.

But Jeffrey? He didn't care about any of that.

He spent his years working to preserve the Bolton legacy. But on the day he chose to die, he was free.

Carter wiped away the tear at my cheek. "Dad said not to cry, this isn't an end. It's a new beginning."

I nodded, unsure of what to say.

"It's beautiful here," Carter continued. "The birds, the flowers ... He won't be alone."

"Yeah."

It didn't feel like a funeral. It felt more like a quiet goodbye.

We set the tribute and the wreaths, and that was all.

Everett and Everly had been still, calm in their stroller. But then, they started laughing.

Their tiny hands reached up, swiping at the air, their eyes focused on something only they could see.

Above them, two butterflies danced—one pure white, the other bright with color.

Maybe they didn't see butterflies at all.

The white one landed gently on Carter's shoulder, while the colorful one fluttered in front of me.

Suddenly, I remembered Jeffrey's words. "Your mother-in-law always had a love for beauty. Even if she turned into a butterfly, she'd still be the most beautiful one in the garden."

The white butterfly gently landed on Carter's shoulder, as if a soft hand had rested there, offering a quiet blessing. It seemed to whisper, "The Boltons are yours now", a weight passing from one pair of hands to another.

The colorful butterfly hovered near me, its wings flicking with a deliberate grace. It felt like it was studying me, examining the life I had led. Jeffrey must have told it everything—the trials, the twists, the paths I'd taken.

I forced back the lump in my throat, my voice thick with emotion. "Jeffrey, don't worry. I'll take care of the kids and Carter." I wanted to believe it myself, but the weight of his absence was already pressing down.

The butterfly hovered over the dessert beside the gravestone, resting for a moment. Carter had prepared it as a small tribute to Jeffrey's wife, remembering her fondness for sweets. It was a simple, quiet gesture, but somehow, it felt like the most meaningful one.

Like a child darting around, the butterfly flitted from place to place, never pausing for long. It danced with the breeze, as if the world were a playground to explore, never bound to stay in one spot.

In my mind, a vision bloomed—a young girl, no older than 20, carefree and full of life. She ran through a bustling night market, laughing as she held candied apple in one hand and an ice cream cone in the other. Milkshake and snacks swung from her wrist as she moved.

That girl was innocent, a picture of youth and joy, standing beside a tall man who spoke softly, offering wisdom in gentle tones, guiding her forward, and protecting her from the world.

The white butterfly drifted past every Bolton descendant, as if saying its goodbyes.

It lingered only for a moment before it moved on, one last farewell to each of them.

Once its goodbyes were done, it returned to the colorful butterfly, their reunion quiet but full of meaning.

The colorful butterfly paused again, fluttering its wings before it landed on Adam's tie.

It seemed fitting. This was the child she had fought to bring into the world, the one she had given up everything for.

From Carter's words, I learned the dark truth about the twins. The old hag had plotted to use them as weapons in her vengeance against the Boltons.

When they were a mere eight years of age, the sister had died protecting her brother.

The brother clung to life, his body broken, his legs fractured, his spirit shattered too. He was like a puppet, moving only because his strings hadn't snapped completely.

The worst part was the resemblance—he looked so much like a young Jeffrey. The old hag had kept him close, as if he were some kind of rare treasure, a forbidden thing she couldn't bring herself to release.

She had a twisted, cruel plan to bear a child from the Bolton bloodline.

All along, we thought her obsession was with wealth and legacy. But the truth was far darker.

Years ago, she had loved Jeffrey. They were a perfect match—both from respected families, destined to marry, or so it seemed.

But Jeffrey's heart had chosen a different path. He had fallen for a poor flower seller, and Commander's eyes had turned toward Brynn instead.

Brynn had thought that agreeing to the marriage would make Jeffrey see her as the one he needed to choose.