Chapter 36
Payson
We arrive at the hospital, and my knees wobble as I stand from the vehicle and walk toward reception.
“Payson,” Griffith says quietly as he walks up beside me.
I didn’t hear him get out of the car. I can’t hear anything other than the sound of my own heart.
A nurse approaches, a soft expression on her face, as she carefully speaks.
“Are you Payson?” she asks.
“Yes,” I answer.
She hesitates, and the look on her face tells me all I need to know. I shake my head, unable to stop my sobs. “I’m so sorry,” she says gently. “We did everything we could. His injuries were too severe.”
“Stop,” I say sharply, immediately. I can’t hear anymore. “I need to see him,” I say. It’s not a request; I just need to see him. The nurse hesitates again, and Griffith speaks up.
“She said she would like to see him. What room?” The tone of his voice makes me jump.
She glances back at me before turning her full attention to him. “I’m sorry,” she says politely. “He’s no longer here.”
“What do you mean he’s no longer here?” I ask. “Where the hell is he?”
“He was released.”
“Released? To whom?” Griffith and I share a look. Knowing all too well who is behind this. “To his sister, Vivian.”
That doesn’t make any sense to me. “Why would you release his body to her? I’m next of kin.”
“She had the necessary documentation. I’m sorry,” she says as she starts to walk off.
“Where did she take him?” I ask. “Why wasn’t I informed?” She looks between us puzzled.
“She had authorization.”
“I AM FAMILY,” I snap. “You don’t just release him without telling me where he is….” My head throbs as the blood rushes to it. I turn to Griffith, feeling as if I am about to suffocate. Something isn’t right. I can feel it deep in my bones, but I don’t have the strength right now to fight it.
“She signed everything?” Griffith asks, stepping between the nurse and I, his voice deeper than before. The nurse nods.
“Yes.” Of course she did.
“Thank you,” he says. He takes my arm gently, guiding me around the corner, out of sight.
“We’ll handle it.” I nod, wiping tears from my face, when she appears.
She moves with satisfaction all dressed in black, perfectly put together while I’m falling apart.
She sees me instantly and the bitch smiles.
“I was wondering when you’d arrive,” she says, amusement in her voice. Something in me ignites and I lunge for her. Griffith reaches out grabbing me and holding me tightly as I thrash around.
“Where is he?” I scream at her. She doesn’t acknowledge me, just looks at her perfectly manicured nails as if she’s waiting for me to not be upset.
“It’s handled.”
“That’s not an answer,” I spit with venom.
“It’s the only one you need.” My hands curl into fists at my sides.
“That’s not your decision.”
“It is now.”
“No. It’s not.” Griffith steps forward. “You did what you always do…insert yourself where it doesn’t belong and start making decisions that aren’t yours to make.” Vivian glances at him briefly.
“This doesn’t concern you,” she says, dismissing him and glancing back at me.
“Be very careful how you speak to me,” he threatens.
“You were never a Reith. He only gave you kindness that lasted longer than it should have.” My throat tightens but I don’t look away. “You are not of our blood, you never were, so none of this concerns you.”
“You're emotional, and it’s clouding your ability to see things clearly.” Griffiths blocks me from going to her. “Stop standing here pretending this isn’t suspicious as hell. He raised her, she has a right to see him,” Griffith adds, his tone sharp.
“She has no place here…she never did.”
Griffith lets out a slow breath, laughing quietly. “This isn’t over…” he whispers to her.
“If you think I’m going to let you strip everything from her without a fight, you’ve seriously underestimated me.” Vivian studies him for beat before speaking so lowly I can barely hear what she says, “You can try.”
“I will,” he continues. “I’m freezing every account, every asset, and stopping every decision you think you made.”
Her eyes sharpen. “This won’t end the way you think it will.”
Griffith tilts his head almost amused. “It never does with you,” he says, before we turn and walk away.
The funeral is two days later. I can’t bring myself to look inside the closed casket.
If I do, I might not survive, so I keep my distance.
Far enough that I can’t see the details, but it doesn’t stop me from thinking about the man who raised me lying cold and dead beneath that mahogany lid.
People shuffle around me, whispering, having quiet conversations and giving their condolences I don’t want to hear.
A few talk to me, and others just look toward me with a sad expression on their face.
When we make it to the graveside, I stand near the long line of cars parked along the roadway.
The officiant begins the service, and Jeff reads the eulogy shortly after.
My feet are killing me in these black heels, as I stay rooted in the same spot for the entire service.
I watch as they lower the casket into the ground, each person throwing a rose into the cold hole in the ground, then walking to their cars.
Two days ago, we were laughing at a meeting, and the next he’s gone. I don’t wipe away the tears that keep falling. Wiping them away won’t bring him back.