The Wedding He Skipped Became My Ticket To An Empire Chapter 07
After cremating my grandmother at the funeral home, I dialed a number I had memorized but hadn’t called in over a decade The voice of a dignified middle-aged man answered. “Who is this?”
I pressed my lips together. “Dad. It’s me.”
He paused for two seconds. “Sophia. Are you finished with your business there? I’ll have Ms. Thompson come get you. I’ve missed you very much.”
“Dad,” I interrupted. “Can I take Grandmother back to Silver Creek to bury her first?”
He was silent for a long moment. “All right.”
I hung up, overcome with tangled emotions.
Until I was five, I had lived in an ordinary but happy home. My parents weren’t rich, but they loved me.
Then one afternoon, they had a terrible fight.
I learned that my father was not just a low-level employee. He was actually the heir to the Moreau fortune.
And I was not his only child.
When I was three, he had used a business trip as an excuse to return to his family and enter an arranged marriage with a woman from a suitable social background.
His marriage to my mother had never been legal from the start. He had lied to my mother.
He didn’t admit the truth until Mrs. Moreau gave birth to a child.
He said he couldn’t bear to watch my mother work so hard for so little money and couldn’t stand lying anymore.
He offered her a house and monthly support. But my mother had just slapped him and told him to leave.
I never saw my father again. My mother forbade me from mentioning him.
I hated my father for lying. But I also missed him terribly.
Before she died, my mother wrote down his number on a piece of paper.
Ten years later, this was the first time I had called. It wasn’t as heavy as I had imagined, but it wasn’t light either My father was basically a stranger to me.
As for the marriage alliance with the Cross family, it was originally meant for my younger half-sister But she had rebelled and fled the country.
So Mrs. Moreau had tracked me down and asked me to take her place.
A stretch limousine pulled up in front of the funeral home.
The driver opened the door Inside sat a dignified man in a black suit. He glanced at his watch.
“My condolences, Miss Moreau. The county clerk’s office closes in thirty minutes. If you don’t mind, we can. get our marriage license today.”
I stood there holding my grandmother’s urn, frozen for a few seconds. His business-like attitude was fine with me.
After we got our license, I nodded to Julian and turned to hail a taxi. But Julian spoke up.
“I’m heading to Silver Creek anyway. I’ll give you a ride.”
Bringing an urn on a commercial flight required advance notice, and there were no more flights to Silver Creek that day. I wanted to lay my grandmother to rest as soon as possible, so I accepted.
On the private jet, Julian typed quietly on his laptop. In the peaceful silence, I held the urn and grief crashed over me like a wave. Tears fell silently.
Then a cup of hot chocolate appeared beside my hand. Julian didn’t speak. He just continued working quietly. That was exactly what I needed at that moment.
When we arrived in Silver Creek, Julian had already arranged for a burial plot for my grandmother next to my mother.
On the day of the funeral, a light rain fell. Julian stood silently behind me, holding an umbrella.