Chapter 936

Her heart ached, and she pulled him into her arms, murmuring softly.

"Shh... it's okay. I know losing her is unbearable, but you still have me."

Layne buried his face against her, his voice muffled and choked with raw agony. His broad shoulders shook as he forced out the words.

"You're not my mother."

Maeve let out a soft sigh.

"I know. I could never replace her. Everyone wants their parents' love forever. I am

so terribly sorry she's gone, but she isn't coming back. No matter how much we miss the people we love, once they go to heaven, they can't return. Do you understand?"

Layne slowly pulled back, his bloodshot eyes locking onto Maeve's face. Tears continued to track down his jawline.

Maeve looked so fragile, so breathtakingly soft. Just looking at her seemed to make the suffocating weight of the world recede slightly.

Maeve met his gaze and leaned down, pressing her lips to his. They melted into a desperate, heated kiss. Layne sought out every inch of her, burying himself in her body to escape his mind.

They didn't stop until the early hours of the morning, when Layne finally collapsed against Maeve's chest and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

He had poured every ounce of his grief and rage into their lovemaking. Maeve took it all, exactly as she always did. No matter how fiercely he moved or how much pain he unloaded onto her, she endured it in perfect silence. She knew it was the only way to numb his breaking heart.

On the fifth day, Mrs. Everhart's funeral took place. As the eldest son, Layne carried her ashes. Leonie was dressed in stark black, and Gwyneth had arrived to stand by their side.

Aside from the immediate family,

the cemetery was completely empty save for the rows of men in black suits Mr. Everhart had to be physically held up by the guards. Layne had begged his father to stay home, but he had flatly refused.

In a matter of days, Mr. Everhart had withered from a healthy, robust man into a skeletal, dying shell of himself. Aging truly happened in the blink of an eye. Gwyneth couldn't even bear to look at him.

Leonie followed behind Layne like an automaton. She looked like a doll stripped of its soul, staring blankly at her mother's portrait on the headstone. She couldn't even produce a single tear.

She had lost a terrifying amount of weight over the last few days, and the radiant spark in her beautiful eyes was entirely dead.

"I'm so sorry, Leonie," Gwyneth murmured.

Gwyneth had insisted on coming. She was terrified Leonie might do something drastic and stayed glued to her side. Leonie forced a broken, rigid smile.

"Don't worry about me, Gwyneth. I won't break. It's just me and Layne left now. We still have to hold the family together. And Felicia... She

killed my mother. I will never ever let her get away with this."

Gwyneth saw a flash of pure, murderous intent in Leonie's eyes. It was a look she

had only ever seen once before the very first time she met Hawthorne.

Back then, Hawthorne's icy stare had terrified her. He had looked at her like she was dying prey, emanating a suffocating aura of death. Leonie's eyes held that exact same chilling darkness.

Gwyneth shivered, completely understanding the girl's mindset. If someone had massacred her family, she would be hunting them down too.

But Leonie was still so young. Of course, Gwyneth kept those thoughts to herself. To point fingers at a girl who had just lost her mother would be entirely too.cruel. She had no right to preach about forgiveness or letting go of the hate."