A millionaire bu/rie/d his wife. He was returning from the cemetery. By the gate sat an old woman. He gave her money. She took it, looked at him, and quietly asked, “And what will you say to your daughter?” He froze. He had no daughter…

Rain began falling the moment the coffin was lowered into the soil. It felt as if the sky itself had chosen to mourn Erin Miles, the woman Gregory Miles had loved for nearly three decades. Or the woman he believed he had loved. Gregory stood beside the grave, unmoving, letting cold rain soak through his coat and trickle down his face, mixing with tears he did not bother to hide.

A crowd surrounded him. Business partners, distant relatives, local politicians, and curious onlookers all came to witness the farewell of the wife of one of the wealthiest men in the county. Gregory knew most of them were not here for Erin. They were here to see him. To watch the man who owned half the industrial parks in the region bury his wife.

“Sir, the car is ready,” said his driver, Walter, touching his elbow gently.