CHAPTER 294: SAYING GOODBYE AS MYSELF

A few days slipped by in a blur, and then, inevitably, the morning of the funeral arrived.

The school had been informed of the service. Abby’s classmates, along with anyone else who had been close to her, were given permission to miss the day’s lessons so they could attend and pay their respects. The announcement had been delivered in the morning assembly two days ago, but it still didn’t feel real, not to Max.

He wasn’t going to school today.

Max stood in his bedroom, the weak daylight spilling in through the blinds, catching on the edges of his wardrobe doors. Inside, two neatly pressed suits hung in the center, flanked by rows of shirts he rarely touched. He stared at them for a long moment, his hands resting on the wooden frame.

I thought... I wouldn’t have to wear this again, he told himself. The last time I did was for Jay’s funeral. I didn’t think I’d be standing here again so soon, deciding what to wear to say goodbye to someone else.

His fingers reached toward the dark fabric of the suit jacket, but then stopped halfway. Slowly, his hand dropped.

Instead, his gaze shifted to the other side of the wardrobe. Hanging there was the Bloodline jacket. Its black fabric, stitched with subtle crimson details, seemed to absorb the light instead of reflecting it. The moment he looked at it, a decision settled in his chest.

He reached for it and slid it from the hanger, the familiar weight of it falling across his arms.

Some people will think I’m being disrespectful, he thought as he shrugged it on. They’ll whisper that I couldn’t even be bothered to wear a suit. But the color is black. And this... this feels like me.

A knock sounded at the door, pulling him from his thoughts. He opened it to find Aron standing there, his usual composed expression in place. Aron would be attending the funeral with him.

"You’re going to be wearing that today, sir?" Aron asked, glancing over the jacket with mild curiosity. "Should I have put mine on as well?"

"No," Max said, shaking his head. "It’s fine. You’ve still got yours in the car though, right?"

Aron nodded. "Of course."

They stepped out together, the air outside cool and still. As they made their way toward the car, Aron spoke again.

"Is there a reason for it? Wearing the Bloodline jacket today? I imagine there will be some who are... surprised. Maybe even displeased."

"We met Abby’s father," Max replied. His voice was calm, but there was something in his eyes that wasn’t. "He didn’t strike me as the kind of man who’d care about something like that. And the truth is, I always hid who I really was in front of Abby. Today... I want to show her all of me, as I say goodbye."

There was more to it, though.

Abby had known Max Stern, the careful, curated version of himself. But Maximus Darn was the one standing here now. He wanted that version of himself to be the one who saw her off. And the Bloodline jacket... it wasn’t just clothing. It was a statement.

The town hall loomed ahead when they arrived, its old stone façade marked by years of rain and wind. The entrance was framed by heavy wooden doors that stood open, revealing a dimly lit interior. The hall carried the weight of too many goodbyes, Sam’s, Jay’s, and now Abby’s.

Inside, a steady flow of people came and went, offering bows, murmured condolences, and quiet prayers. There were many extended members of Abby’s family scattered throughout the space, faces Max had never seen before.

At the front, Abby’s father stood before a large framed photograph of her, his posture stiff but respectful. Each time someone approached, he bowed his head in thanks, even if only for a brief moment.

Max entered with Aron at his side, scanning the hall instinctively. His gaze found Cindy near the middle of the room, her expression unreadable, with Warma standing just behind her.

A few of Abby’s classmates were present, their eyes red-rimmed, some clinging to each other for comfort. Toward the back, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, was Joe. His eyes flicked toward Max the moment he walked in.

The quiet hum of conversation seemed to dip as Max stepped further inside, the Bloodline jacket an unmistakable contrast against the sea of muted suits and dresses.

Finally, Max stepped forward. His footsteps felt louder than they should have against the wooden floor, each one echoing faintly in the hall. The scent of incense already hung in the air, a soft, almost sweet smoke that clung to his clothes the closer he got to the front.

He reached the table where the sticks of incense were laid neatly in a small tray. The faint orange glow of others burning nearby swayed with the air currents from the open door. He picked one up, holding it between his fingers as he stepped toward Abby’s photograph.

It was then that he felt it, eyes on him. Many of them.

"What’s that kid doing? Couldn’t even bother to wear a suit?" someone whispered in a voice meant to be quiet, but not quiet enough.

"Well, it’s black at least. Maybe he couldn’t afford one, and that was the best he had," another murmured.

From the back, Joe’s jaw tightened. The idea of Max not being able to afford a suit was so absurd that it was almost funny, but he didn’t laugh. Instead, he frowned, his mind catching on a different question, why did Max choose to wear that jacket? It was bold, obvious... attention-grabbing in a place where most people tried to blend into their grief.

But Max wasn’t here for them. He let the whispers roll off him, like rain sliding off stone. He was here for one reason, and one reason only, Abby.

He knelt, lowering himself until his forehead touched the floor in front of her picture. The wood was cool against his skin.

Abby... you helped me more than you’ll ever know. And from what Wolf told me, you were braver than anyone realized.

Till the very end, you were still thinking about me, about this fake Max Stern. I wish I’d paid more attention to you. I wish I’d had you by my side. I wish I’d done everything in my power to protect you.

You once said that if we met again, you’d do whatever you could to help me. I swear to you... I’ll return that favor ten times over.

He stayed there longer than most. Too long, in some people’s eyes. The murmurs began again, sharper now.

"Is he trying to show off? Act like he cares more than the rest of us?"

"What an attention grabber. This is about Abby, not him."

"Shut up!"

The voice rang out, cutting through the tension like glass shattering on tile.

Joe froze for half a second, wondering if he’d accidentally said something out loud. But no, he turned his head and saw Cindy, standing with her arms crossed, glaring at the group who’d been whispering.

"You don’t even know who Abby was close to," she said coldly. "You don’t know who she trusted, who she kept around her. Just because you’re related doesn’t mean you get to stand here and criticize the people who actually cared about her."

The adults she spoke to flushed red, their eyes darting away. None of them replied. Instead, they shifted awkwardly and moved further toward the back.

She’s a strange one, Joe thought, remembering how recently Cindy herself had been criticizing Max. Guess even she has her limits.

When Max finally lifted his head, his eyes found Abby’s father. For the first time in days, the man looked sober. He even managed a small smile, genuine, if tired, as he met Max’s gaze.

At the far back of the hall, leaning slightly in the shadow of the doorway, stood a man in a sharp suit. He hadn’t spoken to anyone, hadn’t joined the line of mourners, just watched.

Now who’s the flashy kid? Detective Marvin thought, his eyes narrowing as he observed the boy in the black jacket.