Grandpa's Funeral Reduced to Her Dog's Show

Joyce glowed with pride while her parents applauded her idea.

My chest burned with fury, but I held back for fear of disturbing Cuthbert's soul. Instead, I called my family's security team to haul these disgusting people away.

Joyce's eyes narrowed when she spotted Cuthbert's gold medal. "They say gold and silver help animals reincarnate as humans. This medal is perfect for Luck's burial. But the name on it has to go."

She grabbed a knife to scratch off Cuthbert's name. I lunged at her, yelling, "That's Cuthbert's medal. Are you insane? This funeral is huge because he was a hero. Put it down, or you'll regret it."

She slashed the knife across the back of my hand. "Back off! I don't mind his stench, and you're threatening me?"

Blood dripped from my hand, but I held on, wrestling the medal free, when a big hand grabbed my neck and flung me across the room. I crashed into the coffin, pain shooting through me.

"You're not even part of the family yet, and you're bullying Joyce?" Isaac Whitaker snapped.

He shielded Joyce, his face cold. "Cuthbert is gone. Why waste money on a funeral he couldn't even see? Don't forget you're living off my family now. Let Joyce's dog have this and apologize to her. It will ease her guilt."

He snatched the medal from me and handed it to Joyce, who carved Luck's name over Cuthbert's. I fumed with rage, glaring at him while recalling the time when we got engaged.

Their company went down, and they sold their houses and cars to fill the hole. He learned massage techniques from doctors abroad to help with Cuthbert's leg, which moved me and earned my consent.

Otherwise, his family wouldn't even have qualified to sweep our floors. Now, he was humiliating me and Cuthbert's legacy for Joyce.

"Isaac!" I shouted. "You said you'd handle the funeral to spare me grief. Was it all just for her dog?"

He shoved me aside, annoyed, as I reached for the medal. "So what? Cuthbert lived a cushy life. He is dead, and you're still burning cash on him? And you have the nerve to threaten Joyce. I know Cuthbert was corrupt, hoarding money at home. I haven't reported him out of respect for our old times."

Cuthbert's merit deserved a funeral overseen by top officials, but Isaac's earnest pleas had convinced me to let him take charge. Now I saw it was all for Joyce.

Guests trickled in, witnessing the scene. One said, "Cuthbert left you a fortune, but a girl like you can't manage it. Apologize to Isaac and thank him for running the house."