He Never Loved Me Until the Day I Finally Left Him novel Chapter 442

She quietly followed Sebastian outside.

They needed to head to The Crematorium to sign The Death Certificate.

With Sebastian's elite status, they naturally didn't have to wait in line or bounce between government departments.

The administrative staff were already on-site, waiting for them.

Once the documents were finalized, Hope's existence would be legally erased.

From that moment on, Hope would be wiped from the world.

In truth, there wasn't much to erase.

Hope had never even been issued a birth certificate.

She didn't even have an official legal name.

At the thought, a painful lump formed in Helena's throat.

But she refused to let her emotions show.

She knew all too well that no one else cared about her baby.

She was the only one who did.

They got back into the car.

The Crematorium was located on the distant outskirts of Riverton, requiring a two-hour drive.

For two grueling hours, Helena was forced into a confined space with Sebastian.

Neither of them spoke a word.

Helena kept her gaze locked on the blurred scenery rolling past the window.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sebastian occasionally stole glances at her.

But those glances were fleeting.

They sat there like two strangers who just happened to know each other's darkest secrets.

The car finally rolled to a stop outside the facility.

Inside, the atmosphere was suffocatingly heavy.

Sebastian led her out of the vehicle.

The staff hurried over to greet them.

Helena looked straight at the director and made her demand. "I want to see my daughter first."

He nodded sympathetically and led the way.

She wasn't allowed to touch, only permitted to look through the glass of the freezing casket.

Hope's tiny body had been prepared for the viewing.

Helena stared down, her brows furrowed in confusion.

Something felt wrong—the baby in front of her didn't look like the Hope she remembered.

But she couldn't put her finger on exactly why.

They could always print another copy if the paper got ruined.

But if Helena refused to sign, the entire procedure would grind to a halt.

Sebastian frowned, his gaze locking onto her trembling frame.

She was crying.

It was a silent, agonizing weep.

The kind of grief that was trapped inside, unable to break free.

It was a suffocating, heavy sorrow that made the air in the room feel impossibly thin.

"That's enough," Sebastian said, his voice low and commanding.

He reached over and pulled the pen from her violently shaking grip.

Helena looked up at him, her eyes hollow and passive.

Compared to her absolute breakdown, Sebastian was a pillar of ice.

"Let her go," he ordered the staff coldly.

Without another word, Sebastian leaned down and signed The Death Certificate himself.

His handwriting was bold and sharp, completely devoid of any hesitation.

In a matter of seconds, he handed the finalized document back to the clerk.

The staff collectively let out a quiet sigh of relief.