Chapter 15
Days bled into weeks as the autumn chill deepened into the biting frost of early winter, transforming the tree-lined streets of Richmond into a postcard of stark, frozen beauty. Inside the family estate, however, the temperature matched the bitter desolation of the inhabitants. The mother had managed to restore partial electricity after spending hours navigating automated phone trees and paying past-due balances out of her own dwindling personal reserves, but the warmth and vitality of the home had permanently vanished. She spent her days sitting wrapped in heavy wool blankets in the formal parlor, staring silently at the drawn velvet curtains, her mind replaying every sharp, dismissive word she had ever spoken to Craig. Garrett had visited the house exactly once since the inheritance announcement—not to check on her well-being, but to collect a box of antique silver cutlery to sell for quick cash to furnish his new living room, rushing out the door under the pretext of an urgent business meeting before she could even finish brewing tea. The stark reality of her golden child's selfishness had hit her with crushing force, stripping away the romanticized illusions she had clung to for decades. She realized that Garrett loved what she could give him, whereas Craig had loved her—supporting her, protecting her, and anticipating her needs without ever demanding applause. Now, the silence in the hallways was deafening, broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the antique wall clock that seemed to mock her declining authority. She reached out with a trembling hand to pick up her cold teacup, her fingers brushing against the polished wood of the side table where a small, framed photograph of a younger Craig sat half-hidden behind a stack of unread magazines. She turned the frame upright, tracing the glass surface with her thumb, a quiet sob catching in her throat as she confronted the bitter truth that some bridges, once burned to ashes, could never be rebuilt.
