Chapter 2

The funeral was small and private, just a few of my mother' s oldest friends. Chloe was still in Europe. She didn't answer my texts about the arrangements.

A month passed. I organized a public memorial service, a tribute to the great Eleanor Vance. The theater community turned out in force. Legends of the stage, critics, producers-they all came to pay their respects.

Chloe finally appeared.

But she wasn't at the memorial.

I saw her from a distance as I was leaving the main chapel. She was in the pet cemetery section, just a hundred yards away. She was with Leo.

He was weeping dramatically, his shoulders shaking. Chloe had her arms wrapped around him, stroking his hair, murmuring words of comfort. I walked closer, hidden by a large marble angel.

They were standing over a tiny plot of fresh earth. A small, temporary marker read "Muffin."

Chloe was holding a small, tearful ceremony for Leo's recently deceased cat.

She spotted me. Her face hardened. She left Leo's side and marched over to me.

"What are you doing? Spying on me?"

"I was at my mother's memorial, Chloe."

She scoffed, her eyes rolling. "Oh, are we still playing this sick game? You're unbelievable. Leo is going through a real loss. Muffin was his everything for fifteen years. You could show some compassion."

She looked back at Leo, her expression softening into a look of pure tenderness, a look I hadn't seen directed at me in years.

"He's strong," she said, her voice full of admiration. "Not weak and dramatic like some people."

The injustice of it all settled in my bones, a cold, heavy weight. My mother' s last wish echoed in my mind. She had made me promise.

"We made a pact," I said, the words feeling like ash in my mouth. "Mom and I. I have to wait six months after her death before I can divorce you."

She wasn't listening. She was already turning back to comfort the grieving Leo.

"She wanted us to work things out," I whispered to the empty air.

But standing there, watching her mourn a cat while my mother lay in the ground nearby, I knew. I couldn't honor that wish. It felt like a final betrayal, not from me, but from my mother, for asking it.