Chapter 136

Angela POV

I stood under the shower's scalding spray, letting the water cascade over my body as steam filled the small hotel bathroom.

My cheeks burned as unwanted memories flooded back-Sean's hands on my body, his lips against my neck, and worst of all, my own body's betrayal. I squeezed an excessive amount of shower gel onto my loofa, scrubbing my skin with enough force to leave it pink and raw.

"Damn you, Sean Shaw," I muttered, pressing my forehead against the cool tile. "What gives you the right to force yourself on me like that?"

I reminded myself why I was really here-for Elizabeth, to pay respects to the woman who had been more of a mother to me than my own. Not to rekindle anything with Sean.

Yet my treacherous skin still remembered his touch, prompting me to scrub even harder, as if I could wash away the memory itself.

The morning air bit at my cheeks as I stepped out of my hotel room. I'd dressed carefully in a warm cashmere sweater and coat, mentally preparing myself for the emotional day ahead.

My steps faltered when I spotted Sean leaning against the wall near the exit, with Thomas Smith hovering nervously beside him. Thomas immediately straightened when he saw me, his professional smile firmly in place.

"Good morning, Ms. Wilson," he greeted politely.

I forced myself to remain calm, pushing away memories of the airplane lavatory. "You're both here early," I observed, keeping my voice neutral.

"We wanted to ensure the schedule runs smoothly," Thomas explained. "Ms. Wilson, the temperature in town is quite low today. Perhaps you might need an additional layer?"

I couldn't help but notice that Sean was wearing only a thin shirt and light cashmere sweater. Despite my determination not to care about his wellbeing after yesterday's incident, professional habit made me frown with concern.

"Mr. Smith," I said, pointedly not looking at Sean, "rather than worrying about me, perhaps remind your employer that he's dressed more lightly than I am, despite his medical condition."

Sean's lips curled into a slight smile. "I'm not cold."

"But you're still recovering," I countered before I could stop myself.

"Would a sick man accompany you to a cemetery?" Sean replied, his voice low and amused. "Let's go. We shouldn't waste time-don't we need to buy flowers first?"

I swallowed my concern, reminding myself that I would no longer fuss over Sean as I once had. "Let's get moving then," I agreed with a simple nod.

The drive through the small town was quiet, oppressively so. After stopping at the town's only florist, where I carefully selected a bouquet of white lilies-Elizabeth's favorites-we continued toward the cemetery in silence.

I kept my gaze fixed on the unfamiliar scenery passing outside the window, though I could feel Sean's eyes occasionally landing on my profile. I deliberately avoided meeting his gaze, focusing instead on the memories of Elizabeth that flooded my mind.

The weight of guilt pressed heavier on my chest with each passing minute. Three years. Elizabeth had been gone for three years, and I hadn't even known.

No one spoke as the car wound through the narrow roads. I bit my lower lip, determined not to show vulnerability in front of Sean. In the rearview mirror, I noticed Thomas occasionally glancing back at us both but wisely maintaining the silence.

The cemetery grounds were still damp from the previous day's rain, the air carrying that distinctive scent of moisture and fresh vegetation. Few visitors roamed the peaceful grounds, giving the small-town cemetery an air of tranquil solitude.

I followed Sean down a shaded path, my heart racing faster with each step. After walking for several minutes, Sean suddenly stopped.

There it was-Elizabeth's headstone. My breath caught in my throat when I saw the colorful photograph embedded in the marble. Young Elizabeth smiled elegantly from the image, her aristocratic bearing undeniable even in her youth.

The memory came unbidden to my mind: Elizabeth's voice, warm and teasing, as she'd once told us, "Sean, Angela, when I leave this world, please put a photo of my younger self on my grave. My husband left too early, and I want him to recognize me in heaven."

"Could I..." my voice wavered slightly. "Could I have some private time with Elizabeth? Please?"

Sean frowned momentarily before nodding. With a subtle gesture to Thomas, he turned and walked away, leaving me alone with my grief.

I stood motionless before the grave, my vision blurring as tears gathered. Carefully, I knelt to arrange the flowers and offerings beside the elegant marble headstone, my hands trembling slightly.

"Elizabeth, it's Angela," I whispered. "I've come back."

Despite all the words I'd rehearsed on the plane, I found myself speechless. I busied my hands with arranging the flowers, gently wiping raindrops from the photograph's surface.

When I finally regained some composure, I continued softly, "I'm sorry I left without telling you the truth five years ago. And I'm sorry I never came back to see you. You must have been so disappointed. You have every right to be angry-I can't even forgive myself. If you can hear me, please visit me in my dreams. There's so much I need to tell you..."

With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone, scrolling to find a specific photograph. "Elizabeth, there's something I never told you... something I never told Sean either." My voice dropped to an almost inaudible whisper. "These are Aria and Ethan. They're... they're your great-grandchildren. Sean's children."

I held up the phone, displaying the twins' smiling faces.

"I should have told you," I choked out as tears finally spilled down my cheeks. "They would have loved you so much, but I'm sorry... they'll never get that chance now."