Chapter 423
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Chapter 423:
“Carmen, listen to me,” Ferris said, his tone urgent but soft. “I was confused. The trauma of those days — I mixed up the details p>
Carmen slowly lifted her head.
Her eyes were completely bloodshot, the skin around them swollen and bruised purple from crying. She stared at him with a hollow, dead expression, waiting for the next blow.
“We wanted to do the tree burial in Switzerland,” Ferris continued smoothly, maintaining direct eye contact. “But because the baby died so quickly, we couldn’t obtain a passport or the proper international transport permits. The plan fell through p>
Carmen’s breath hitched. Her hands shot out, her fingers seizing the lapels of his coat with a terrifying, desperate strength.
“Where is he?” Carmen rasped, her vocal cords shredded. “Where are my baby’s ashes, Ferris p>
Ferris did not blink.
𝖩𝗈𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝖺𝗍
“Upstate,” he said. “In the Hudson Valley. There is a highly exclusive private memorial park. We buried the urn there p>
He needed to give her a physical anchor — something to stop her from pursuing digital records.
“It is under a weeping angel monument,” Ferris added, his voice dropping to a whisper. “The stone is blank. We didn’t carve a name, to protect your privacy p>
The moment physical coordinates registered in Carmen’s mind, the hollow, dead look in her eyes vanished. Grief too vast to be contained needs a vessel. It twisted within her shattered psyche, hardening from a liquid, suffocating sorrow into a sharp, crystalline purpose — a cold, manic obsession. She finally had a destination. A place to direct her pain.
She released his coat.
Carmen scrambled off the rug. Her legs shook violently, but she forced herself upright. She stumbled toward the marble kitchen island, her hands frantically searching the surface.
She grabbed a black pen and a square of notepad paper and shoved them against Ferris’s chest.
“Write it down,” Carmen ordered. Her voice was no longer a sob. It was a cold, absolute command. “Write down the exact address p>
Ferris took the pen and scribbled the address of a real, secluded cemetery he knew in the Hudson Valley.
“Carmen, it is a private estate,” Ferris warned, trying to buy time. “The gates are locked. You have to call the management office to make an appointment p>
Carmen snatched the paper from his hand. She crumpled it tightly in her fist, pressing it against her racing heart.
She pointed a trembling finger at the front door.
“Get out,” Carmen said.
Ferris opened his mouth. But the look of pure, unhinged determination on her face stopped him cold. He nodded once, turned, and walked out of the apartment.
The heavy door slammed shut. The deadbolt clicked.
Carmen stood alone in the dark living room, looking down at the crumpled paper in her hand. Her chest heaved.
She walked into the bathroom, flipped on the harsh overhead light, and stared at the ruined woman in the mirror. She turned on the faucet and splashed freezing water onto her face, shocking her nervous system into compliance.