40
The hall was filled with melodious music, and Pat scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face. But Stacy was nowhere to be seen. Then he noticed the dialog box on his phone hadn’t moved; no reply had come through.
The drumbeats of the music thudded in perfect rhythm, but his heart raced erratically. His eyelids trembled uncontrollably. Turning to Tara, he asked anxiously, “Where’s Stacy? Didn’t she say she’d play the opening song? Where is she?”
Sandra froze at his question. A wave of dread washed over her, she knew that if Pat found out the truth, he’d leave her without hesitation. Her palms turned clammy. It was her birthday today, and she couldn’t bear to let go of her moment. As Sandra chose to remain silent, Tara brought Jeanie into the room. Anna had left earlier and hadn’t returned, leaving Tara and Jeanie to manage the situation.
Jeanie, hunched and trembling, stood awkwardly in front of them, clutching a gift box. Tara pressed her for information about Stacy, but Jeanie just stared at the floor.
Pat’s patience snapped. He pulled out his phone and dialed Stacy’s number, only to be greeted by an empty, disconnected line. Frustration consumed him as images of Stacy’s empty apartment flashed through his mind. If she had run off with someone, he swore he’d make them both pay dearly.
10:10 AM c
Living Myster’s Life for eve
Pat’s rising anger stilled the room. The music stopped, and everyone shrank back, too afraid to continue singing or dancing. Only Tara approached, pushing her wheelchair closer. “Pat, don’t lose hope. Stacy isn’t like that. I’ll send someone to find her right away.”
But Pat was already spiraling. Ignoring her words, he stretched his long legs and headed for the door.
“Pat, don’t look for her. Stacy is… she’s dead.
A heart–wrenching wail echoed through the hall. Jeanie dropped to her knees, clutching at the hem of Pat’s
trousers, crying. “Miss Stacy!”
Gasps erupted around the room. Even Vera Swift, stunned, dropped her wine glass. Red wine spilled down her legs, but whether from shock or guilt, she forgot herself completely. In an instant, she sprang up from her wheelchair, shocking everyone.
The hall buzzed with whispers, and all eyes turned to the unfolding Taylor family drama.
Pat froze in his tracks, struggling to process what he’d just heard. Sandra, summoning her courage, stepped forward. She pulled a document from the gift box and handed it to him.
“Pat, please accept my condolences,” she said, her voice shaky.
Pat’s gaze locked on hers, red and filled with fury. Without glancing at the paper, he ripped it apart. Sandra’s attempt to speak was cut short as Pat grabbed her by the neck
“Shut up!” he roared. “If anyone says she’s dead again, they’ll join her!”
The crowd stood paralyzed, filming the chaos on their phones but too afraid to intervene.
Jeanie crawled toward Pat, sobbing uncontrollably. “Mr. Taylor, I swear she didn’t lie. Miss Stacy passed away three days ago. She had cancer, and nothing could be done. I saw her body cremated with my own eyes.
“Madam told me not to tell anyone. I swear I couldn’t say a word!”
Pat’s grip loosened as he stumbled back, muttering to himself. It had only been a few days. How could Stacy be gone? It was impossible–utterly impossible.
Sandra gasped for air, coughing violently as she broke free. Finally catching her breath, she snapped, “What’s the point of this rage? Dead is dead!”
Tara, silently seated in her wheelchair, remained frozen, too terrified to intervene.
Pat, overwhelmed with anguish, lashed out, kicking a nearby chair. “Get out! All of you, get out!”
At what was meant to be a joyous banquet, handsome men and elegant women now fled in panic. The festive mood had evaporated, replaced by fear that the chaos might spill over and harm bystanders.
Anna returned to the Taylor estate in haste, alarmed by the sight of guests running out in a frenzy. A sinking
feeling told her something was terribly wrong.
When she reached the hall, she was met with a startling scene: her son, Pat, was kneeling on the floor, staring at a heap of shredded paper as if it held the answers to the universe.
*Pat, what are you doing?” she called out, rushing to him and pulling at his arm. Despite her effort, he remained
unmoved, frozen in place.
Slowly, Pat lifted his head, his voice trembling as he asked, “Mom, you knew about Stacy all along…” His words faltered as if he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. He bit his lip so hard it almost bled.
Anna’s expression betrayed no surprise, as though she had expected this moment. “I didn’t think it would come to this,” she said calmly. “Pat, yes, Stacy has passed away. I signed the cremation papers myself. You need to accept
Her words hit him like a sledgehammer. Pat stumbled to his feet, grabbing Anna by the shoulders. His voice
10 10 AM
