Chapter 14
590words
Dad used the money Susanna had left behind to rebuild the company, and before long, the crew had their jobs back. Mom spent her days in the park, painting alongside Yvan, who was slowly starting to speak. It was just a few words, but it was progress.
Every evening, dad would finish work and come pick them up, and we would all head home for dinner together. Life was not extravagant, but it was a steady, warm kind of happiness, the type that was fulfilling and worth experiencing.
I thought the past had finally faded, that the storm had passed. Then, the last bit of news about Susanna came in the form of a video that went viral.
It started with her, on a livestream, dragging a drunken York into the passenger seat of her car. She was calm—eerily calm—as she drove them toward the cliffs by the sea. The setting sun cast long shadows, and her voice, smooth and steady, cut through the stillness.
"Today marks eight years since Matthew died," she said, staring directly into the camera. "And I've decided it's time for his killer to join him."
The chat exploded instantly.
[Is this real? Is she serious?!]
[Someone call the cops, now!]
Susanna ignored the flood of frantic messages, her focus unshaken.
She continued, "Eight years ago, York paid someone to stage the car crash that killed the love of my life. He even spread lies to destroy Matthew's reputation."
She glanced at York, slumped and oblivious next to her, then back to the camera. "A year ago, I exposed the truth. York should've been in prison. But look at him, still living his life, untouched."
Her voice dropped, cold and final. "An eye for an eye. If the law won't punish him, I will."
Then, without warning, Susanna let go of the wheel and closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face as she whispered, "Matthew, I'm sorry. But I've gotten your revenge now."
She smiled weakly into the camera, her voice barely audible. "I'm coming to you. Wait for me, will you?"
The car spiraled out of control, veering off the road. It plummeted toward the cliffs below, the final image on the screen a blur of blood before the feed cut out.
By the time the authorities arrived, it was too late. Both Susanna and York were gone, their end even more brutal than my own.
I drifted over to the crash site, watching as they pulled the wreckage from the water below. I did not feel anything—not for Susanna, not for York. I had stopped loving her a long time ago. Her death did not change the damage she had done to my family.
A golden sunrise crested over the ocean, painting the sky in hues of crimson and gold.
I could feel myself fading, the warmth of the sun's rays piercing through me as my form grew translucent.
A voice—quiet, yet undeniable—whispered in my ear. It told me that it was the architect of this world, the invisible hand that shaped stories. I had been an unintended casualty, caught in the web of the protagonists' fate. Now, it offered me a chance—a compensation, a way to begin anew in a different world.
I did not care about the protagonists' story. Their tangled romance meant nothing to me.
Without hesitation, I accepted the offer.
In the brilliant sunlight, I would find my rebirth.
