On the twenty eighth day, Madison Clarke left Riverside General Hospital quietly, wearing anonymity like armor while stepping toward a house already filled with mourners preparing for her funeral. Chairs crowded the yard, black clothing dominated the gathering, laughter drifted freely through the air with unsettling casualness.
Derek moved confidently among guests, issuing instructions with pride sharpened by anticipation rather than grief.
“Arrange those chairs closer together for better spacing,” he announced briskly. “Attendance appears higher than initially expected.”
Tracy glided effortlessly through the rooms, her laughter bright and careless.
“She would have appreciated something simple and inexpensive,” Tracy remarked lightly. “After all, simplicity defined her entire existence.”
Madison entered through the gate.
Conversations collapsed instantly into stunned silence.
Derek turned slowly, disbelief draining color from his face.
“How is this even possible,” he stammered, voice trembling with shock. “You were declared practically gone weeks ago.”
Madison’s voice remained calm, her composure terrifyingly steady.