Mistress Over Mother

I clenched my teeth in rage, my eyelids twitching uncontrollably. I could not believe that Martin had actually allowed Waverly to destroy the few remaining traces of Claire.

I lunged forward and grabbed Waverly by the hair, dragging her toward the door. "Get out! Don't make me say it twice!"

Waverly screamed and struggled against me. "Ah! You bitch! Grab her! I'll pay you double!"

One of the construction workers stepped forward and kicked me hard, sending me crashing to the floor. The burning pain spread through my body as I grimaced, but they clearly were not done with me yet.

The group surrounded me and kicked me repeatedly. Soon, blood trickled from the corner of my eye as my screams filled the entire room. The flowers I had bought for Claire were trampled under their feet, covered in dust.

Martin came back just then, heard my cries, and shouted for everyone to stop. He hurried over and carefully pulled me to my feet.

He turned to Waverly, his tone cold. "What's going on? What are you doing?"

Waverly sobbed and sniffled, wiping away tears. "Martin, you already agreed to let me move in, but Stella wouldn't listen. She kept telling me to get out. She came back with all these creepy funeral items, and when I told her to throw them away, she wouldn't listen and tried to hit me..."

I looked at the scattered funeral supplies and Claire's photo on the floor, my heart stabbing with pain.

However, Martin did not even glance at those things as he pulled Waverly into a comforting embrace.

"Stella, I'm the one who told her to redecorate. If you have a problem, take it up with me. Why do you have to target Waverly?"

Looking at the photo trampled under her feet, I felt such rage that I coughed up blood before I could even speak.

Martin carefully wiped the blood from my body, and his tone immediately softened. "Waverly was just trying to protect herself... She never meant to hurt you. At worst, I'll apologize on her behalf, and we can put this behind us. Come on, let me take you to get bandaged up."

The tenderness I had once longed for now made me nauseous, and I dry heaved.

With Martin backing her up, Waverly smugly directed the construction workers to throw away all of Claire's belongings. She picked up the memorial photo from the floor, feigning confusion.

"What's this picture?" she mumbled.

Then, she shrieked, deliberately dropping Claire's photo on the ground as if it were cursed.

"Martin, Stella is... Isn't this going too far? Mrs. Hughes Senior is alive and well, but she actually..."

Martin violently tore the photo to shreds and threw the pieces in my face. The fragments cut my cheeks and sliced through my already shattered heart.

I dropped to my knees, frantically picking up the pieces and trying to put them back together. The glass shards pierced my palms and shins, but nothing hurt as much as seeing Claire's final photo destroyed.

I lifted my head with difficulty, just in time to see Martin holding Claire's urn, examining it from all angles. "Martin, Stella's been acting so strange these past few days. Getting all this stuff. Isn't she just cursing Mrs. Hughes Senior? Why don't we just throw all of it out!"

I raised my head with difficulty, tears of blood streaming down my face. "Martin, that's Mom's ashes..."

Martin did not hear me as he frowned at the box. "Throw it out. It's bad luck just looking at it."

I lunged forward and caught the urn, my knees and elbows scraping against the floor until they were bloody. "Get out! All of you get out!"

Martin pulled the wounded-looking Waverly behind him. "It's just an urn. She didn't do it on purpose. Why are you freaking out again..."

I cut him off through gritted teeth. "Martin, are you even human? Those are Mom's ashes! You killed her to please Waverly, and now you've scattered her remains too. Are you happy now?"

Martin's eyes widened in shock, and he immediately told everyone to stop throwing things away. With trembling hands, he called his department, and moments later, his expression grew heavy.

Just when I thought he might feel remorse, he suddenly ordered people to snatch the urn from my hands.

I held on tight, sobbing loudly. "Martin, what are you doing? That's Mom's urn! She's your own mother! Make them let go! Let go!"

Martin took the urn from them, staring down at me with cold disappointment as I fell apart on the floor. "What kind of terrible things are you saying? Mom is perfectly fine! Waverly just called her yesterday!"

"Martin, I'm not lying. Mom is really dead! You're the one who killed her! Please just let her rest in peace, I'm begging you..."

However, Martin refused to look at me anymore. Right in front of my eyes, he slammed the urn hard against the floor.

The moment it shattered, the ashes scattered in the wind and landed on my face, as if Claire was wiping away my tears one last time before drifting away.

In that moment, my heart completely broke. I crawled to where the ashes had fallen and scooped them up as tears poured down my face. All the grief and rage in my heart transformed into pure hatred.

"Martin, why? Killing Mom wasn't enough for you... It wasn't enough that you caused Mom's death. How could you do something this vile? Don't you feel any weight on your conscience when you sleep at night?"

Martin viciously slapped me across the face, his features twisted with rage. "Stella, ask yourself: hasn't Mom treated you well all these years? Even when you couldn't give us children, she never said a word. And now you're cursing her? You're going to eat those ashes right now! Then you're going to apologize to Mom! Or else don't blame me for divorcing you!"

He shouted, "Eat them! Eat them now!"

Just as Martin was losing his patience, his phone rang.

He answered it irritably, and I heard a panicked voice on the other end.

"We found it, Dr. Hughes. Mrs. Hughes Senior... passed away a week ago."