Seven Years Together, My Fiancee Abandoned Me at the Altar

Hearing her words only encouraged him more. Gideon stopped digging for a beat, propped the shovel under his arm, and grinned at me—a smile full of malice and madness. Then he slammed the shovel down onto the exposed urn.

"No!" My chest felt like it was tearing.

There was a dull, resonant thud as the hard urn cracked. He laughed as if he was at a game and kept hitting it, blow after blow, until the urn shattered completely.

The white ashes spilled out across the dirt.

Gideon threw down the shovel, lifted his foot, and ground his heel into them hard—twisting as if crushing out a cigarette.

"Mom!"

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.]

[Once he's cured, everything will be fine again.]

[Don't worry. All the pain you've suffered—I'll make it up to you someday.]

I stared at the message, expressionless.

Taking off my soaked jacket, I wrapped the ashes carefully, almost tenderly. Then, without a word, I buried the phone in the earth beside my mother's grave, stood up unsteadily, and walked away—one heavy step at a time, never looking back.