Nothing Left To Save

My father's memorial was held in the glass hall of the old Westmore house.

That house used to overlook all of North Harbor. Now the windows faced nothing but ruins behind police tape and rain-blackened barricades.

I placed the black-gold signet in a black velvet box at the center of the memorial table. Under the lamps, the raven on its face looked cold, as if my father were standing behind me one last time in silence.

At three in the afternoon, Damon arrived.

He wore a dark suit, rain still clinging to his shoulders. Behind him came Selena Vale, the woman the Moretti family had protected most carefully over the past two years.

She was the daughter of an old friend Damon had once saved when they were young. And she was pretty, fragile, and perfectly timed. She knew when to make her eyes turn red, and she knew how to make Damon feel like the kind of man who could still rescue everyone.

"Vivi." Damon stopped in front of me, his voice deliberately gentle. "I'm back."

Once, that name from his mouth would have softened me.

Now I only looked at him and said, "Damon, I want a divorce."

The glass hall went silent.

Damon's brows drew together as if he'd heard an absurd joke. "Don't say things like that right now."

I stepped away.

He looked at his empty hand, and the warmth in his expression thinned. "I know you're angry I didn't get there in time. But Selena was in danger too. I couldn't leave her alone in the street."

"She cut her palm."

Damon paused for one second. Then that high, patient composure slid back into place.

"Vivian, it isn't about how big the wound was. Selena has no family and no backing. You do. You have Westmore, and you have me."

I almost laughed. I had Westmore.

The people of Westmore had died in that fire.

I held my father's old coat to my chest and said quietly, "My father couldn't wait for you."

Damon's eyes moved to the memorial table, and his frown deepened. "Vivi, enough. Mr. Arthur was always strong. You don't have to say that just to make me feel guilty."

Selena tugged lightly at his sleeve, her voice soft and poisonous. "Damon, I told you Vivian only wanted you to come back. Mr. Arthur was practically impossible to kill. How could he just be gone?"

She looked at me, contempt tucked behind her pretty eyes. "Using your father's death to fight for attention is a little much, don't you think?"

I waited for Damon to speak. Even a simple warning for her to stop.

But he only patted Selena's hand, as if comforting her, before turning back to me. "Vivi, don't embarrass yourself in front of guests. We can talk about the memorial and the divorce when you've calmed down."

In that moment, I understood that a marriage doesn't always break with one clean cut.

Sometimes it rots slowly. By the end, it doesn't even hurt.

I picked up my father's black-gold signet from the memorial table and ran my thumb across the words inside the band.

"Tomorrow, my father’s funeral will be held at the Westmore chapel."

"Arthur Westmore, the last head of North Harbor, will be waiting for both of you to bow."