The End of a Marriage (Colette and Matheo) novel Chapter 187

Chapter 187

Chapter 2

Her eyes flicked back to him. Graham. Her stepbrother, at least in

name. He had been a distant figure in her life, appearing only a few

times a year when he visited their father at the estate. He never

stayed long, always busy, always with somewhere else to be. She

barely knew him, yet she had always felt a quiet yearning for his

approval, a longing for a connection that had never quite

materialized.

Now, as he stood on the dais, commanding the attention of everyone

in the church, Isla felt that longing again–a desperate need to reach out to him. To talk to him. To share the weight of this unbearable loss

with someone who might understand.

But she didn’t move.

Her eyes fell back to the red–haired woman, her grip on Graham’s arm

unrelenting. Those nails, so sharp and polished, felt like a warning. They kept Isla rooted in her seat, silent and still. What would she even say to him? What right did she have to intrude on his grief when she was nothing more than the stepdaughter, the afterthought?

Helplessness surged through her, a tide that threatened to drag her

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Chapter 187

under. Tears welled up, but she blinked them back, her hands gripping

the edge of the pew so tightly her knuckles turned white. Graham

began to speak, his voice low and steady, but Isla couldn’t focus on

the words.

Graham had begun to speak now, his deep voice reverberating

through the church, commanding the kind of attention that only he

could. Everyone seemed captivated, hanging onto his every word as

though he were imparting some profound truth. It was a power he

had always possessed–a quiet magnetism that drew people in,

silencing rooms and stealing focus.

But not Isla.

She sat rigidly in the back row, far removed from the front where

Graham stood at the dais with his statuesque girlfriend seated close

1. by. Isla had no interest in his words. She couldn’t hear them anyway.

Born deaf, she had spent her life observing the world in ways others

didn’t, relying on lip–reading and gestures to understand the swirl of

conversation around her. Today, though, she didn’t even try.

What could he possibly say that she hadn’t already heard?

Empty condolences. Flowery phrases about loss and strength. Words

that would never reach the hollow ache in her chest. She didn’t need

to read lips to know what his speech would be–a eulogy polished and

poignant enough to move everyone around her to tears. She could see

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Chapter 187

it in their faces, the way the crowd leaned in, their eyes glassy with

emotion.

But none of it mattered to Isla. Not the words. Not the tears. Not the

well–meaning murmurs of strangers who barely knew her. Because

she knew the truth: no one cared for her. Not really. The only man

who ever had, who had loved her unconditionally, was gone now.

Her papa.

کا

Isla bit her lip hard, her hands gripping the edge of the pew to keep

herself steady. She forced her gaze downward, away from the dais and

the sea of sympathetic faces. The weight of their pity was unbearable.

They didn’t know her. They didn’t know what Robert Lancaster had

meant to her–the man who had loved her when no one else had, who

had stayed when even her own mother had left her behind. They

couldn’t possibly understand the depth of her grief.

Her eyes stung as she fought back the tears threatening to spill. She had promised herself she wouldn’t cry here, not in front of these

people. Not in front of Graham.

Years ago, as a little girl, Isla had developed a life–sized crush on the enigmatic young man who visited their home a few times a year. Graham had been tall, handsome, and effortlessly charming, a figure so far removed from her world that he might as well have been a star in the sky. But that admiration had been her undoing. Afraid of

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Chapter 187

embarrassing herself, of blurting out something foolish or

inappropriate, Isla had kept her distance from him whenever he

visited.

That distance now felt insurmountable.

As the pallbearers carried the casket to the grave, the congregation moved outside, following solemnly behind. Isla hung back, letting the crowd surge ahead. She wanted to disappear, to fade into the

background, unseen and unnoticed.

From her place at the very back, she watched as Graham took his place at the front, his girlfriend glued to his side. Isla’s eyes flicked to the woman–slender and poised, her perfectly manicured crimson nails resting lightly on Graham’s arm. A picture–perfect pair, she thought bitterly. The kind of couple who belonged in glossy magazines, their polished smiles concealing lives she could never

touch.

Isla felt small in their shadow. Small and invisible. And that was

exactly how she wanted it.

The ceremony continued, the priest speaking solemn words as the

coffin was slowly lowered into the earth. Isla stood ramrod straight,

her nails digging into her palms as she forced herself to hold back the

sob threatening to escape. She had been holding onto Robert for as

long as she could, clinging to the fragile belief that he was still with

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