Chapter 57
Georgia’s POV
*.89%
Finished
I woke up early the next day, determined to get out before Estevan. No luck. When I walked into the kitchen, he was already sitting at the table, calmly cating breakfast like nothing had happened last night.
Louiella beamed at him, setting down a plate of fresh toast.
My stomach twisted. I couldn’t face food. I just grabbed a cup of coffee milk Louiella had already poured for me. Then, I went to the small shelf in the living room where I had placed my parents’ urns the night before. I took them carefully in my arms.
Louiella saw me and her bright smile softened. “Ah, dea. You are going to the cemetery today?” She turned to Estevan, her voice full of warmth. “The Sinclair family plot is up on the hill. A beautiful, peaceful place. She’s going to put her parents’ ashes there, with her grandparents.”
She looked back at me, then at Estevan, her eyes hopeful. “Estevan, dear, perhaps you would like to go with Georgia? It’s a lovely walk, and she shouldn’t be alone today.”
Oh, great, I thought, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. Just perfect.
Estevan turned to me, that infuriating smirk back in place. “But of course, Louiella,” he said smoothly, playing the part of the devoted fiancé perfectly. “Georg hadn’t mentioned it, but I wouldn’t dream of letting her go alone.” He looked at me, his eyes full of fake concern. “Especially not up there. You never know who might be lurking around. Wouldn’t want my beautiful fiancée getting snatched, would we?”
I scoffed. “Excuse me? I can protect myself. I was in the military, remember?”
Louiella just laughed softly, patting my arm. “Oh, darling, I know you’re strong. But you’re still a young woman. And he’s your fiancé! It’s his job to worry about you.” She beamed at Estevan. “Besides, it’s tradition. You should introduce him to your family properly.”
I didn’t react, just picked up the urns, my knuckles white. As I headed for the door, Estevan effortlessly scooped up the small basket Louiella had packed with flowers and water, I waved a quick goodbye to her, my forced smile aching,
Once outside, my glare returned full force as I looked at him. Honestly, just looking at him made my blood boil. We walked in silence up the steep mountain path, he air growing cooler, the scent of pine sharp and clean.
The old cemetery wasn’t used much anymore, reserved mostly for the town’s founding families.
Estevan walked a few steps behind me, annoyingly keeping pace without seeming out of breath. “Are you sure this is the right way?” he asked, his voice laced with faint amusement. “Seems a bit remote for a final resting place.”
“Oh, yeah,” I shot back over my shoulder, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s the perfect place to bury annoying, unwanted guests. Keep
king.”
He just chuckled, following me without another word.
We finally reached the small, wrought-iron gate, half-hilden by overgrown ivy, SINCLAIR was carved into the stone arch above it. Inside, weathered headstones stod like silent sentinels amongst the wildflowers. It was peaceful. Forgotten. Ours.
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10:36 Tue, Mar 10 M M
Chapter 57
89%0
Finished
I found the small niche in the family mausoleum wall reserved for my parents and carefully placed the urns side-by-side. I traced their names etched into the cool marble, a wave of familiar grief washing over me.
“Very traditional,” Estevan commented quietly from behind me. “Do you plan to join them here one day?”
I glared at him. “Only if you push me off this mountain right now.”
He ignored my sarcasm. He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the names carved into the stone – generations of Sinclairs. He stopped before the main marker, reading the names of my grandparents, my great-grandparents.
Then, he did something completely unexpected. He straightened his posture, his expression turning serious, almost formal. He looked at the names etched in stone, then briefly at me, then back at the graves.
“Augustus Sinclair. Eleanor Sinclair,” he said, his voice clear and respectful. “My name is Estevan Salvatore. I apologize for intruding.” He paused, his gaze finding mine again, intense and unreadable. “Your granddaughter… she is under my protection now. I give you my word, she will be safe.”
I just stared at him, completely speechless. My anger wared with a strange, unsettling feeling… a lightness. He was performing, of course. Playing a part for an audience of ghosts. But the gesture… it felt oddly real.
Lucas had never even known this place existed. He would have been checking his watch, complaining about the lack of phone signal. Estevan, the monster, the man Zane accused of killing my parents, was standing here introducing himself to my dead family. It was the host bizarre, confusing, and unexpectedly touching thing I had ever witnessed!
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