My Heart Beats On Inside Him

It was then that a graceful woman approached in high heels and wrapped her arms around Kendrick's. She then said sweetly, "Those on the board are waiting for you to cut the cake, Kendrick. Why are you still here? Whose funeral is this?"

I recognized that woman. She was Yvonne Johnson, someone who had been by Kendrick's side for the past five years.

Kendrick's hardened expression instantly softened as he smiled gently. "It's no one's, so let's go."

I looked at Kendrick's gentle, affectionate gaze—an expression of deep devotion that used to belong only to me. I felt as if I were stabbed in the heart, though it could no longer bleed.

Kendrick turned to look at Mom before waving his hand, saying, "Get Mrs. Lawson to the hospital since she's unwell. She shouldn't be coming out unless necessary."

His bodyguards immediately moved into formation to pave the way.

In that instant, the Lawsons all sighed in relief, while Mom, in a dazed state, fell into one of my relatives' embraces.

It was only after Kendrick left that a cold command crackled through one of the security guards' walkie-talkies. "Mr. Fisher said the celebration can't be disturbed, so have the hearse take a detour."

In the end, the hearse was forced to turn back to the Lawson residence, where the wreaths were strewn across the floor in chaos, and the wake had been completely dismantled.

It was then that the assistant working for Fisher Group stood with his arms crossed and ordered coldly, "There's going to be a celebration banquet today, so orders have been passed down prohibiting any hearses within a five-mile radius."

He then kicked the coffin and said with a sneer, "Your family's empty coffin is an obvious attempt to bring bad luck to Fisher Group. It's a fake funeral anyway—if you haul it directly to the landfill, we might let this slide."

Upon hearing that, the elders from the Lawson family trembled with fury, clearly seeing through their blatant abuse of power. "You ought to know that we are really holding a funeral here! It's for Jasmine Lawson!"

That assistant walked away in disgust, clearly not believing them.

Mom was completely out of it, oblivious to the situation. She ran a hand covered in needle pricks over the coffin, speaking so softly it sounded like she was comforting me when I was a child. "You have nothing to be afraid of, Jasmine. I'm right here with you—and I'll even get you some candy."

I wept as I pressed close to Mom's ear, whispering my apologies. "I have failed you as your daughter, Mom, leaving you behind to mourn and bury your own child."

I couldn't resist drifting into the Fisher residence to see the man I had waited four years to meet again while Mom was asleep. I noticed that the Fisher residence was brightly lit as my soul passed effortlessly through layers of security until I finally found Kendrick.

Kendrick stood alone before the floor-to-ceiling window in the study. He was unconsciously tracing an old doll sitting on the ledge—a doll I had made myself four years ago.

"You've got quite a unique doll there," Yvonne said as she pushed the door open and walked in.

"You like it?" Kendrick asked as he turned around, smiling faintly.

Yvonne nodded.

Kendrick casually picked up the doll and handed it to her. "I'll give it to you, then."

"You sure about that, Kendrick?" Yvonne asked in surprise as she took it.

"It's just a trinket," Kendrick stated indifferently.

I stood behind them, feeling a sharp, tearing pain in my heart. I had spent several nights making that doll, pricking my fingers in the process. Kendrick looked at me with bloodshot eyes back then, promising to cherish it for a lifetime.

That day, after leaving the Fisher residence, my soul had already grown nearly transparent.

I knew my time was up. I slowly floated back to my bedroom in the Lawson residence, waiting for the moment I would finally fade away.

It was the middle of the night when Kendrick's car pulled up at the entrance of the Lawson residence. He proficiently climbed over the rusty iron fence under the moonlight—an action he frequently did during his university days, just to bring me some late-night snacks.

I hid behind the tree in the yard, watching his tall figure pace restlessly along the corridor.