From Funeral Home to Fortune: A Thompson's Rise

Evelyn Reed

Romance | Completed

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My father' s funeral was a blur of lilies and hushed condolences. I stood by his grave, a shell of grief, the world a gray canvas of loss while my fiancé, Ethan, stood beside me, a comforting presence, or so I thought. Then darkness. I woke on a funeral home couch, voices drifting in. Ethan' s smooth tones and his father Senator Carter' s icy pronouncements cut through the haze: "With Senator Thompson gone, the girl' s family is... socially irrelevant now." My breath caught, a sharp, bitter thing. Their casual cruelty laid bare the truth: Ethan's plan to ditch me for a "much better fit" for his ambitions, seeing me only as "yesterday's news." The man who whispered promises, who held my hand, saw me as nothing more than a discarded stepping stone. My heart, already shattered by loss, was now brutally re-fractured by their cold, calculated betrayal. The sheer audacity of it, planning my discard while my father's casket lay near, left me reeling, choked with a humiliating fury. How could they?! But as the nausea receded, a cold, hard resolve solidified in my gut. They thought I was irrelevant, that my family's name meant nothing without my father. I would show them meticulously how relevant the Thompsons still were, and their own PR firm would orchestrate it.

Betrayal Revenge Office romance Kickass Heroine Personal growth

Chapter 10

01-06 20:23

Introduction

My father' s funeral was a blur of lilies and hushed condolences.

I stood by his grave, a shell of grief, the world a gray canvas of loss while my fiancé, Ethan, stood beside me, a comforting presence, or so I thought.

Then darkness. I woke on a funeral home couch, voices drifting in.

Ethan' s smooth tones and his father Senator Carter' s icy pronouncements cut through the haze: "With Senator Thompson gone, the girl' s family is... socially irrelevant now." My breath caught, a sharp, bitter thing.

Their casual cruelty laid bare the truth: Ethan's plan to ditch me for a "much better fit" for his ambitions, seeing me only as "yesterday's news."

The man who whispered promises, who held my hand, saw me as nothing more than a discarded stepping stone.

My heart, already shattered by loss, was now brutally re-fractured by their cold, calculated betrayal.

The sheer audacity of it, planning my discard while my father's casket lay near, left me reeling, choked with a humiliating fury. How could they?!

But as the nausea receded, a cold, hard resolve solidified in my gut.

They thought I was irrelevant, that my family's name meant nothing without my father.

I would show them meticulously how relevant the Thompsons still were, and their own PR firm would orchestrate it.