At first, I thought she was just acting out of spite, only pretending. But after Ryan repeatedly taunted me, sending endless indecent photos and videos, I knew there was no doubt left.
This marriage was already dead.
“The funeral? I don’t have time. And so what—it’s only your brother. Your parents are still alive. If you divorce me now, won’t that kill them from shame?”
I fell silent. She knew my parents well—too well. She thought she could control me because they hated the idea of divorce, because they’d prefer me to endure.
But she forgot—my life is mine alone.
“Olivia, you’d better make sure you understand whose brother really died.”
Standing at the entrance of the crematorium, watching the furnaces lined up for use, my voice was ice.
“If you have time, you’d better come this afternoon. At four o’clock, he’ll be cremated.”
She only sneered.
“I’m too busy making money. Who has time for such nonsense? Cremate him if you want. A funeral? Handle it yourself. He was short-lived anyway—just toss something together.”
The call ended abruptly.
So be it.
If she said there was no need for anything elaborate, then so it would be.