Stolen Heart, A Mother's Revenge

Graham didn't come to Lily's funeral. He didn't send flowers. No card, no message. Nothing.

The small chapel was filled with our closest family and friends, all dressed in somber black, their faces etched with grief. My parents, their own hearts broken, stood by me.

"Where's Graham?" My aunt whispered, her voice tight with disapproval. "His own daughter, for heaven's sake."

I just shook my head, unable to speak. What could I say? That he was with his mistress and her child, celebrating their new life while ours crumbled into dust?

"That man is a disgrace," my uncle muttered, his gaze fierce. "And that Bella woman… I heard rumors years ago."

A fresh wave of shock washed over me. Rumors? Years ago? Had I been so blind?

I borrowed my mother's phone, my own still useless, blocked. My fingers fumbled as I dialed. It rang once, twice, then he picked up.

"What is it, Emma?" he snapped, his voice sharp with irritation.

"Are you coming?" I asked, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. "To Lily's funeral? It starts in ten minutes."

"Are you serious right now?" he scoffed. "Emma, I can't. I can't face it. Not right now. Mia just got home, she's not stable. Bella is a wreck. I have to hold it together here."

"Bella needs you?" I repeated, my voice rising. "Our daughter is being laid to rest, Graham! Our five-year-old child! And you're prioritizing your mistress?"

"Don't you dare try to manipulate me with this, Emma," he seethed. "You're just trying to make a scene. You don't deserve to be a mother, you hear me? You're a cold, selfish-"

The line went dead. Again. Blocked. Again.

My hand dropped, the phone slipping from my grasp. He called me selfish. He said I didn't deserve to be a mother. Those words, spoken by Lily's own father, echoed in the hollow chamber of my broken heart.

"What did he say?" My father's voice was a low growl. He snatched the phone from the floor, his face darkening as he saw the blocked screen.

"He… he said I don't deserve to be a mother," I whispered, tears finally falling.

My father's face contorted with pure rage. A vein throbbed in his temple. He dialed Graham's number. This time, it went through.

"Graham! You absolute bastard!" my father roared. "How dare you! How dare you abandon your child! Emma carried that girl, she fought for that girl every single day of her life! And you? You traded her life for a cheap thrill with your tramp!"

There was a muffled sound from the other end.

"Don't you dare try to deny it!" my father thundered. "We know! We know you diverted Lily's heart to Bella Savage's daughter! You killed your own child!"

A stunned silence fell.

"You want proof? You want to see what you did?" My father's fingers flew across the screen, attaching a photo. Lily's tiny white coffin. The freshly dug earth. "Look at it, Graham! Look at the monster you are!"

He pressed the phone to my ear. I could hear Graham's ragged breathing, his choked, horrified gasp.

"You are nothing, Graham," my father hissed, his voice trembling with a cold, terrifying fury. "You are less than nothing. You are dead to us. Dead."

He hung up, his body shaking. He pulled me into his arms as I sobbed.

My gaze fell upon a photograph of Lily. Her bright, innocent smile. I remembered holding her, just days ago, her small voice saying, "Mommy, when I get my new heart, we can run in the park all day."

My heart shattered all over again. The pain was too much. Darkness swirled at the edges of my vision, consuming me once more.