CHAPTER 17: THE FUNERAL

Braelyn’s POV

I know I’m pathetic. At times, I stare at the mirror and laugh at what I have become.

Out of sight, out of mind. Since everyone’s brains got twisted I did my best to ignore this family. Amelia made it crystal clear that I wasn’t part of them, and there was no need to bother.

Since I left the hospital, besides staying under the same roof, my eyes haven’t caught sight of Raphael, and it was better that way.

It didn’t matter if he was with his precious Amelia or not. He was dead to me already; I just had to figure out a way to escape this cage called a marriage.

"I think they had a fight..." The soft whisper from the maids drifted to my ears. I stopped in my tracks, curious about what rumours were flying around the mansion.

They were so engrossed that they didn’t notice my presence. "Ever since Amelia got sick. Braelyn pretended to be sick, and neither Sir Raphael nor Lucien was talking to her." A taller maid whispered to her friend loud enough for me to hear.

"I bet she has been sulking in her room. Which woman will be fine with her husband being with a mistress?" The other snorted. My eyes squinted at them.

"But what really happened between Lucien and her. I thought they were lovers after all we all see the tension between them." The taller maid chirped in, and she glanced over her shoulder, feeling that something was wrong.

Our gaze locked and she was too terrified to say a word. The other, completely oblivious to my presence, continued talking.

"A discarded wife and the prodigal bastard. A perfect combination indeed " her friend said. She was waiting for the other maid to reply and was met with silence.

Sensing something was wrong, she glanced away from the painting she was dusting to her friend who was trembling. Her gaze widened as she turned ghastly pale.

"Madam Braelyn." She shrieked and stepped backwards. "I didn’t mean it that way." She rambled falling on her knees to apologise alongside the taller one

I scoffed at them. So these were the rumours going around. I wondered if everyone in this estate had lost their minds. "Please forgive us. They are just rumours " they kept on apologising, scared by my silence

I walked towards them still as calmly as ever. "Raise your heads," I instructed. Their shoulders froze, but they forced themselves to stare back at me, still visibly shaking.

They were young, that’s why they haven’t learnt about keeping their tongues in check. "We are very sorry..." The rest of her words were cut in her throat.

Slap !! My hand ran over their cheeks.

The sounds echoed through the walls twice. They both stared at me in shock cupping their red cheeks. "Madam!!" They whimpered.

My palm was burning from how hard I slapped them but the fury in my chest was still raging. "You have two options. Either you peacefully resign or we will meet in court."

Their already pale faces turned Ashen. "Please forgive us. We didn’t mean it." Both bowed, kneeling, begging for mercy. I laughed, finding it ridiculous.

"You have an hour to leave the mansion. I am sure you don’t want Sir Ronan finding out about your conduct." It was a simple threat. Raphael’s father would never accept such conduct.

I walked out before they could bother me any further with their crocodile tears. The Volkov estate paid their staff well; losing this job was a heavy blow, but going to court for slander would be worse.

Losing their jobs was already devastating, I didn’t want to go through the hassle of dragging them to court but if they test me they will find out even I can bite

Today was Gregor’s funeral, which was being held at a cathedral not too far from the estate to make it easy to move the body back to the family cemetery.

The mansion was bustling, servants running around. I diligently made my way down the stairs and then through the main entrance.

"Mrs Volkov, I am your chauffeur for the day." The chauffeur approached and then offered to carry my purse. I nodded at him before stepping in.

"Have the rest already gone?" I asked, pulling out my phone to check social media. As expected, the event was trending, not short of the Volkov family’s reputation.

"Yes, you are the last one to leave," I replied. I hummed then turned my attention to trends.

The drive to the cathedral was a few minutes, and by the time I arrived the entire venue was already packed although the main event hadn’t started

It was a bright afternoon, a little too beautiful for a funeral. I marched into the cathedral, exchanging small talk with some guests.

"My condolences, Gregory was a good man. I heard he was like a father to you." One of our business associates chimed in with a polite smile.

My face brightened for a moment. Gregory was indeed nice, and the reason I was married to Raphael. He was my father’s best friend. After my parents passed, Gregory supported the best he could.

Because of my mother’s shortcomings, my parents had me when they were already elderly.

"Yes, he was. It’s a shame he has passed now. I know he is in a better place now." Those words were sincere, after a few more exchanges, I found my way to the reserved seats.

My gaze glanced over Lucien dressed completely in black with a sombre expression. I had never seen him so serious. It was rumoured he was Gregor’s favourite.

Lucien saw me and nodded politely. He didn’t bother with condolences, and I guess no one was interested in wasting their words on the black sheep.

My seat was a row behind Lucien, placed next to Raphael’s, since I was still his legal wife.

Lucien was the only one sitting in the front since the rest were still busy with the guests.

The crowd started to settle, and I stiffened when I felt his fingers brush against my hand. Raphael sat beside me like the past week we hadn’t been at a cold war.

"I thought you weren’t going to show up." He commented. The official event started with the priest starting his sermon.

"Not everything is about you, Raphael. I came here to pay my respects to the dead." I replied not bothering to spare him a glance.

The rest of the event was followed by his silence. There was a sharp glare on the back of my head which I didn’t pay any heed to.

Amelia was sulking about why she couldn’t sit with her family. After the priest’s sermon, family and friends started giving their tribute.

Ronan was the first, they only spoke about the best part of Gregor. Lucien didn’t give a tribute like his siblings. Raphael represented the grandchildren and gave a very touching tribute.

I couldn’t bring myself to speak at the front. Gregor was good to me, but the podium brought back bad memories, reminding me of my parents’ funeral.

After Raphael took his seat, some close family friends also took the stage. "Gregor loved children, our foundation will always remember his generosity." The voice drifted through the speaker. He was being praised for his countless donations to children in need.

While everyone was moved, that’s when she chose to speak. Her voice was soft but loud enough to grasp the attention of the bystander.

"It’s such a tragedy," she sighed, a cruel smile grazed my lips wondering what she was up to. She wasn’t so petty as to ruin a funeral. Her words caught their attention.

They were more interested in hearing what Amelia had to say compared to the speaker on the podium.

"Mr Gregor never got to see his great-grandchild. But some things are beyond our control, aren’t they, Braelyn?"

A few heads turned toward me. The corner of her lips twitched upward, pretending to look sorrowful. "It’s not her fault, of course. Some women are just... born with certain health complications. Like her mother, wasn’t it? They say she couldn’t conceive until her old age."

My fist clenched with my hand trembling. This was a funeral.

A murmur spread through the room, I froze. For a second, I thought the ground shifted beneath me.

She smiled like she hadn’t just stripped me bare before everyone.

"Amelia doesn’t mean any harm." Raphael chirped on like his words still mattered to me.

A dry, hollow laugh escaped me before I could stop it—too sharp, too loud, almost unhinged.

The room went silent.

And then, another laugh—low, deep, unrestrained

Amelia’s mouth clammed up and everyone’s attention was drawn to Lucien sitting in front, who was laughing so hard his shoulders shook at a funeral.

Lucien stood up, still maintaining his smile; his eyes looked feral. The speaker at the stage silently made way for him.

He stood behind the mic with a soft smile. "I wasn’t planning on speaking today but some people weren’t raised right." He said his gaze fell on Raphael.

"Isn’t that right Amelia? The Sinclair family have a low moral standing for a mistress to act so boldly and disrespectfully at a funeral."