The Lie Of That Night Chapter 03
Paulina pulled back her hand, her features masked in a layer of frost. “Gretchen, what is this madness? Just because your own daughter died, you’re going to lash out at mine? Ricky is my son. If you keep spouting nonsense, don’t blame me for being rude!”
Terrence knit his brows, glancing at the hollow, shattered depths of Gretchen’s eyes. In the end, he remained silent, offering only a heavy command. “Enough, all of you. Gretchen, you’ve just been discharged, and your emotions are clearly unstable. Go back and rest. Ricky, Julia — let’s go.”
Gretchen slumped to the ground, feeling as though her heart had been completely hollowed out, leaving a cavity for the biting wind to howl through.
Numbly, she drifted back to the villa.
A single, stubborn obsession circled her mind.
She needed to make a small grave for her daughter.
She burst into the nursery she had decorated with her own hands.
The pink walls, the cloud-shaped lights, and the little wooden horse standing quietly in the corner were all the same — yet everything felt fundamentally wrong.
She yanked open drawers, threw wide the closet doors, and tore through the shelves… only to find them utterly empty.
The soft little outfits she had spent months picking out, the cartoon-printed swaddles, even the hospital record bracelet — everything was gone.
The room was sterile, scrubbed clean as if a child had never existed.
Stumbling downstairs, she charged into the study.
Terrence looked up, his brow furrowing as he saw her frantic state.
“Where are my daughter’s things?”
Her voice was dry and rasping. “Just one small outfit… a photo… anything. She has to have left something behind…”
As Terrence took in her ghostly, bloodless face, the guilt he had fought so hard to suppress bubbled to the surface again.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, his tone uncharacteristically softened. “Those things… Paulina said seeing them would only fuel your grief. She thought it was best to dispose of them so you wouldn’t be haunted by the past.”
“Dispose of them?”
Gretchen’s heart gave a violent lurch. “How? Did you throw them away? Burn them? And… what about the ashes?”
Her voice trembled with the last flickering ember of hope. “Where are my daughter’s ashes? Tell me. I just need to know where she’s buried. I just want to visit her…”
Stung by the raw desperation in her eyes, Terrence averted his gaze. “The ashes… Paulina handled that as well. She said she would settle everything appropriately.”
“Paulina…”
Gretchen whispered the name as she turned and sprinted out.
She stormed into the east wing of the villa, where Paulina was sitting on the floor helping Roderick and Julia with a jigsaw puzzle.
“Where are my daughter’s ashes?”
Paulina started at the intrusion, then let out a long, weary sigh.
“Gretchen, why are you obsessing over this? Keeping the ashes will only bring more sorrow. Such unlucky things are bad omens for the living. I had them cleared away with the rest.”
“Cleared away?” Gretchen’s voice rose to a shrill, jagged peak.
“That was my daughter’s body! Where did you ‘clear’ her to?”
“Where else could she go?” Paulina replied with breezy indifference. “The hospital has a standard procedure for handling infants who don’t make it. Whether she was buried or cremated, I’m not entirely sure. After all…”
She paused, dropping her voice to a pointed, venomous whisper. “A child who dies so young isn’t exactly a sign of good fortune. Keeping her things around might have cursed the other children. Julia is already so fragile. I’m her mother; I have to be careful.”
“You!”
Terrence had followed her in, and at those words, his expression shifted. A surge of white-hot anger flared in his chest. “Paulina! That was my daughter. How could you just let the hospital toss her away like trash?”
It was the first time he had ever used such a harsh tone with Paulina. His eyes were rimmed with red.
That infant was his own flesh and blood. Even if he had tacitly allowed them to take the child’s marrow to save Julia, he had never intended for her to be treated with such indignity in death — left without even a final resting place.
Frightened by his outburst, Paulina’s eyes instantly welled with tears.
Roderick immediately abandoned the puzzle and ran over to cling to Paulina’s leg, glaring at Terrence and Gretchen with open hostility. “Daddy, don’t yell at Mommy! It’s not her fault. It’s all that bad woman’s fault!”
He pointed a small, accusing finger straight at Gretchen. His words were childish, yet every syllable was dipped in poison. “Daddy said she’s a bad woman who breaks up our family. She’s a homewrecker.”
“Homewreckers never get a happy ending; everyone hates them. She did such shameful things, so it’s only right that her daughter died. It’s her karma! She deserves it!”
“Ricky, be quiet!” Terrence barked, a sudden, inexplicable panic seizing him.
Gretchen stood frozen. She felt as if a white-hot blade had been driven through her chest, pinning her to the spot.
She stared blankly at the little life that had once been a part of her own body. She could never have imagined he would utter words so soul-crushing.
Every word he spoke was like a dull knife, slowly flaying her already bloodied heart.
He called it karma… he said she deserved it…
She opened her mouth to speak, but the world began to spin into a suffocating blackness.
“Gretchen!”
Terrence felt a sharp constriction in his chest and instinctively took a step toward her.