Severine felt as if her brain were lagging.
The muffled voices of guests, all draped in somber funeral attire, filled the grand hall of the nursing home like static noise.
They were too harsh on her ears.
"Why are we not at the Vale mansion?"
Someone had asked that question.
Apparently, Isabella had left some sort of will—or was it a letter?
Severine was having a hard time recalling anything from the past forty-eight hours.
Isabella had always wished to stay in the nursing home, right where the most gorgeous flowers bloomed.
To honor that final, stubborn request, Victor had decided to hold the final rites in the same place. The place she had called her home.
A stream of mourners shuffled forward, placing flowers on Isabella's corpse before offering condolences to Victor Lockwood.
Austin played the role of the obedient, sensible son to perfection, staying glued to his father's side and offering a steadying hand whenever the old man's shoulders slumped.
