Chapter 14:
_Katrina Hale-Vega POV_
Sunday.
The hospital room was white. Too white.
Mama's hand was cold.
"Mija," she said.
Amanda. I say her name once. For Heaven. For the record. For me.
I bent down. Gardenia. Her smell.
"I'm here, Mama."
"Love… you."
"Love you too," I said.
"Safe… now."
She closed her eyes.
The machine went flat.
Dr. Patel said, "Time of death. 10:47 AM."
I didn't move.
I didn't speak.
_Save it to the blood._
Alexandra was in the doorway.
He didn't come in.
He saw.
---
*2:13 PM. Westridge Crematorium.*
Richard was there. Margaret was there. Laura was there. Evan was there.
Mama was in a pine box.
They pushed the button.
I watched.
I didn't cry.
I didn't talk.
Laura looked at her phone. Then she looked up.
And saw him.
Alexandra.
Three feet behind me. Suit. No tie. Face like stone.
Laura froze.
I didn't see it. I was looking at the furnace door.
But she saw him.
And her face did something.
Recognition.
Evan looked at the wall. Margaret looked at Richard. Richard looked at the papers.
Alexandra didn't look at Laura.
The door closed.
"She's ash now," I said.
No one answered.
They left.
Alexandra stayed.
---
*8:06 PM. Penthouse. His.*
Clause 7.1 suspended. _Bereavement._
Mama was in a box on his table.
I looked at it.
My legs stopped working.
I hit the floor.
And then it came out.
Not words. Not sentences.
Sound.
Like something tearing.
"Mama," I screamed. "MAMA."
Alexandra was there. Against the wall.
I crawled to the box. Put my forehead on it.
"She… she used to…" I gasped. Couldn't breathe. "She used to… when I was eight…"
The words wouldn't come right.
"Birthday," I choked out. "No party. She said… she said 'we'll make one'. Took me… bank. Where she worked. Mopped floors. Made the manager… lollipop. Made him sing. For me."
I was crying. Not talking. Crying.
"She said… 'Numbers don't care about ruffles, Kat'. She said… 'Numbers don't leave'."
I laughed. It hurt.
"She worked… three jobs. Never ate. Until I ate. Always. She'd say 'I'm full, mija'. She wasn't. I knew. But she'd smile. So I'd eat."
My hands were on the box.
"She walked… six miles. Every day. To my school. Rain. So I didn't… so I didn't walk alone. She'd be there. Every day. With an umbrella. Even when she was sick. She'd say 'mothers don't get sick days'."
I couldn't see.
"She sewed… my graduation dress. All night. Three nights. Her fingers bled. She said 'my smart girl deserves… deserves beautiful'. She called me smart girl. Even when I got a B. She said 'you tried, mija. That's all God asks'."
I was shaking.
"She… she hugged me. When I was scared. Of thunder. Of Richard. Of… of everything. She'd say 'I'm here. Mama's here. Safe now'."
I collapsed.
On my side.
Next to the box.
"She was… she was good. She was so good. And I didn't… I didn't tell her enough. I didn't… I didn't come enough. I was busy. With numbers. With… with him."
I threw up.
On his floor.
Didn't stop crying.
"She's gone. She's gone and I'm… I'm…"
No words.
Just _gone_.
Alexandra moved.
Not to the door. Not away.
To me.
He sat on the floor.
Then he did something he'd never done.
He reached out.
Slow.
Like I was glass.
Like I was Mama's ashes.
He pulled me up.
Not hard. Not soft.
Just… up.
Against him.
His suit was expensive. I got vomit on it. Snot. Tears.
He didn't care.
His arms went around me.
One. Then two.
Holding.
My face went into his shoulder.
I couldn't stop.
"She's gone," I sobbed into him. "She's gone she's gone she's gone."
He said nothing.
His hand came up.
Into my hair.
Once.
Like Mama used to do.
I broke again.
Harder.
Because it felt like her.
Because it wasn't her.
I cried until my throat was sandpaper.
Until my eyes were swollen shut.
Until the sound stopped.
Until there was no sound left.
He didn't let go.
He didn't speak.
He didn't cry.
Alexandra Vega doesn't cry.
But he held.
And when my body went limp…
When the 32 years of _'be strong, Kat'_ finally ran out…
I slept.
On his shoulder.
On his floor.
With Mama's ashes three feet away.
He held me.
It was ash now.
Like Mama.
Like me.
But I wasn't alone.
For the first time since 10:47 AM.
I wasn't alone.
---
*Laura Hale POV*
_Westridge Crematorium Parking Lot, 2:41 PM_
He was there.
Alexandra Vega.
Standing behind Katherine.
Like he owned the air she breathed.
Laura's nails cut into her palm.
Six months ago.
Hale Industries boardroom.
_"We're offering a 5-year management contract for your NYC expansion, Mr. Vega. Richard Hale personally –"_
_"No."_
One word. He didn't even look at her. Signed the rejection and left.
She'd been furious. Told Daddy _"He's arrogant. We don't need him."_
She didn't know.
She didn't know _Alexandra Vega_ was _him_.
_Him_ from the Financial Times. _Him_ from the cover of Forbes. _Him_ from every dream she had since she was 22 and saw his photo.
_"The Ice King. Youngest self-made billionaire. Unmarried. Untouchable."_
She'd wanted him.
And she'd told him _no_.
To his face.
And now he was here.
For Katherine.
Holding Katherine's dead mother's funeral.
Standing behind Katherine like a bodyguard. Like a husband.
Katherine.
The bastard.
The mistress's daughter.
Had _him_.
Laura got in her car.
Slammed the door.
Opened her phone.
Typed: _Alexandra Vega wife_.
First result: _Katrina Hale-Vega. Married March 2026. Private ceremony._
Katrina.
Not Katherine.
_Katrina._
She'd changed her name.
Laura threw the phone.
He was married.
To her.
Because Laura said _no_.
Because she didn't know.
Her chest hurt.
She wanted him back.
She didn't care that he was married.
Not to Katherine.
Not to _Katrina_.
She wanted him.
And Laura Hale always got wanted.