At that instant, I heard the sound of my own heart breaking. Rage, despair, and unbearable grief collided all at once. Hot tears of blood and fury slid down my face.
Eliana didn't look at me. Not once. All her focus was on Gideon.
When he finally stopped, she stepped forward carefully. Her voice was soft as she coaxed, "Gideon, is that enough? Do you feel better now?"
He dusted off his hands, grinning, his eyes glinting with satisfaction.
"Yeah, Sis. I feel much better now."
Then he turned to the scattered ashes of my mother and spat on them.
"Come on," Eliana murmured gently, motioning for the bodyguards to release me. "Let's go home."
She led him away, shielding him with her body, never once looking back.
I fell to my knees, crawling forward through the churned dirt. My trembling hands gathered the ashes—now mixed with mud and spit—piece by piece.
The fragments sliced into my palms, blood dripped into the soil, but I felt no pain.
Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
Mechanically, I pulled it out. The screen lit up with a message from Eliana.
[Jared, I promise this is the last time.]
[I've already arranged for a specialist. I'm taking Gideon abroad for treatment tomorrow.]