My Funeral, His Destruction Stage

Adelle POV

He was probably already imagining his future, a perfect picture with Fernanda and her child, free from the burdens of his past, basking in the glow of a new, untainted happiness. It was a joy he would never have found with me, I realized, because I was merely a stepping stone on his meticulously planned path.

My mind replayed the scene in the kitchen, Carter' s tender smile for Fernanda' s child. It was the kind of smile he used to reserve for Fernanda herself, back in their college days, before she' d abandoned him for a wealthier prospect. He' d been heartbroken then, a hollow shell. I, Adelle Moon, had been the one to pick up the pieces, to nurse his ego, to help him build the architectural empire that was now his pride and joy. I had believed his stories of renewed ambition, of a fresh start. But now, I saw the truth. I was just a convenient rebound, a means to acquire the wealth and connections his old flame had once sought, and now craved again.

I was a tool. An unpaid, uncredited architect, a society wife, a perfect prop for his upward climb. Our marriage was a transaction, and now that my value had diminished, he was ready to cash out. He had begged me to marry him, not out of love, but out of desperation. Desperation for a wife from a prestigious family, for a steady hand in his fledgling business, for an image of stability. And I, like a fool, had mistaken his desperation for love.

A sharp, rattling cough ripped through the silent bedroom, pulling me from my dark thoughts. Daisy.

"Mommy?" Her voice was small, raspy.

My heart instantly leaped into my throat. All thoughts of Carter and my shattered pride evaporated. I scrambled off the floor, rushing to her side. "Daisy, sweetie? What' s wrong?"

Her face was flushed, her eyes glassy. I reached out, my fingers brushing her forehead. It burned. Hot, searing. My stomach plummeted. Fear, cold and gripping, replaced all other emotions.

She whimpered, clutching her stomach. "My tummy hurts, Mommy. And my head."

"Okay, okay, sweetie. Mommy' s here." I forced my voice to be calm, even as panic gnawed at me. I fumbled for the thermometer on the bedside table. My hands trembled as I placed it under her arm. The digital display flashed, then settled on a horrifying number: 103.5°F.

High fever. I had to get her to a doctor. Now.

I moved quickly, mechanically, changing her out of her princess dress and into comfortable clothes. Her small body felt limp in my arms. I scooped her up, pressing her flushed cheek against mine.

As I made my way through the living room, clutching Daisy tightly, I noticed the front door was open. Carter and Fernanda were gone. No note, no explanation. Just a half-eaten soufflé on the kitchen counter, quickly cooling, a testament to their fleeting domestic bliss. The sight ignited a flash of white-hot anger, quickly doused by the icy fear for Daisy.

I almost reached for my phone, to call him, to demand he come back, to help. But the thought died on my lips. He wouldn' t care. Or rather, he would make it my problem, another inconvenience, another demand on his precious time. I was on my own. Again.

At the emergency room, the doctor confirmed it was a severe flu, likely exacerbated by stress. He prescribed antibiotics and advised bed rest. I held Daisy' s small, hot hand in mine, kissing her knuckles, wishing I could absorb all her pain. My fierce, maternal love for her was the only pure, unadulterated thing left in my fractured world.

Back home, I gently tucked her into bed, then sat beside her, stroking her hair as she drifted into a restless sleep. The fear for her had pushed aside my own crushing pain, but now, with her safe for the moment, the desolation returned. This apartment, once filled with my hopes and dreams, now felt like a mausoleum. It wasn't home anymore. It was just a place he owned, a place I inhabited.

I couldn't stay here. Not with him, not with his mistress just a floor below, not with the constant threat of his casual cruelty. I had to leave. I had to take Daisy somewhere safe. My parents. The Moon family. They were wealthy, influential. They would help. They had to.

A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. They had opposed my marriage to Carter, calling him an opportunist. They had been right. But they were my family. My blood. Surely, they wouldn' t turn their backs on their only daughter and granddaughter.

I held onto that fragile hope, a tiny flicker in the vast darkness. Tomorrow, I would go to them. I would beg if I had to. And I would bring gifts, a peace offering, a symbol of my humility.