Chapter 2

The sky was so dark it felt like it was falling, and the rain poured down in sheets.

At the entrance of the cemetery, a large wooden sign stood right in the middle of the path.

"Ethan Cole and dogs keep out."

The words were spray-painted in dripping red paint, looking like fresh blood.

I was dressed in all black, shielding a bouquet of fresh lilies in my arms.

Those were Clara's favorite flowers.

Ignoring the sign, I walked straight in.

"Stop him!"

Tyler roared, and five or six muscular guys rushed me.

Without a word, their fists rained down on my back and head.

I curled my body into a ball, desperately protecting the flowers in my chest.

"Throw him out! Don't let him ruin Clara's path to heaven!"

Tyler kicked me hard in the ribs.

A sharp, agonizing pain shot through me. I groaned but refused to let go of the bouquet.

Until someone forcefully bent my fingers back and snatched the lilies away.

"You think you deserve to give her flowers?"

Tyler threw the lilies into the mud and stomped on them repeatedly until the white petals turned into black mush.

"You belong in hell!"

Lying in the mud, staring at the ruined flowers, my eyes burned red.

I tried to crawl toward them, but a heavy boot slammed down on the back of my hand.

Tyler looked down at me, pulled a photo from his jacket, and slapped it onto my wet face.

"Look at this, everyone!"

He pointed at the photo, his voice piercing through the heavy rain.

"This is his true face! Six months before Clara was murdered, he was already drinking with that killer, Leo Vance, at a pub!"

The photo was real.

But it was taken when Leo had come to my office to ask for legal advice.

The gathering relatives and guests erupted.

"Oh my god, so it was a pre-planned murder?"

"How is this guy not behind bars yet?"

Someone spat on my face.

Then came plastic water bottles, mud, and even small stones.

"Beat this gold-digging bastard!"

"You sick cuckold!"

I was like a stray dog cornered in the street, surrounded by an angry mob.

No resistance. No explanation.

I let them pelt me with whatever they had.

The sound of squeaking wheels approached.

The crowd automatically split to make way.

Arthur sat in his wheelchair, his face pale and sickly, his lips trembling.

He held an old, mud-stained sneaker and threw it at me with what little strength he had left.

The shoe struck my forehead, leaving a dirty smudge.

"You... animal... get out..."

The old man shook with rage, his chest heaving like a broken bellows.

"Arthur..."

The moment I opened my mouth, two strong hands pinned my shoulders to the ground.

"Get on your knees!"

Tyler kicked the back of my knees.

"Apologize to my father! Apologize to Clara!"

My knees crashed heavily onto the rough gravel.

Before I could react, a large hand pressed the back of my head and slammed it downward.

*Thud!*

The sound of my forehead hitting the concrete step was sickening.

Warm blood immediately flowed down my eyebrow, blurring my vision.

Everything turned red.

Around me were curses, insults, and the relentless sound of rain.

The sheer humiliation gnawed at my heart like a venomous snake.

I lifted my head, my face covered in blood.

Through the red haze, I looked at Clara's cold tombstone.

Suddenly, I laughed.

A distorted, chilling laugh.

"Arthur. Tyler."

I locked eyes with them, my voice quiet but dripping with icy malice.

"You will regret this."

"Only I... can truly let her rest in peace."

Tyler flinched, taking a step back, startled by the look in my eyes.

But he quickly recovered, masked by embarrassment and anger.

"Still acting tough! Throw him out of here!"

I was dragged out of the cemetery like a dead dog.

And thrown brutally into the muddy ditch by the roadside.

The dirty water seeped into my cuts, causing a blinding pain.

The storm raged on, washing away the blood and dirt from my body.

I lay in the mud, staring at the gray sky.

My body was in extreme pain, but my mind had never been clearer.

Clara.

Just wait a little longer.

The show isn't over yet.