My Funeral, His Destruction Stage

lle

my family' s chatter from the penthouse above. Daisy w

sked, my voice barely a whisp

r. After a moment, she lifted her head, her eyes red-rimmed

eded comforting. "No, sweetie. Mommy' s fine." I

a constant thorn in his side, was a disaster. My family would be up there constantly, fawning over Fernanda and her child, all while casually cutting me

eded a new pla

children' s charity organization. The building was bright and colorful, filled with

as strained. "I... I want to place my daughter, Daisy, into a suitable home. A s

ur concern, but we don' t typically accept children from stabl

agonizing truth. "My husband... he has another family. He neglects Daisy. My own family... they' ve turned their backs on her. She' s only five. She has no one." My voice broke, a raw, ragged

eston, I truly sympathize. But our regulations are very strict. As long as Mr. Preston

y ignore her, they dote on his illegitimate child!" I was unraveling, my carefully constructed facade crumbling. "I' m dying, Mrs. Davison! I don' t have time for legal batt

ton. But our hands are tied. You would need to pursue legal action to prove

eak, suffocating tunnel. Death awaited me, a terrifying certainty, but the thought of Daisy' s future,

had, swallowing them dry. I collapsed onto the sofa, clos