My coldhearted ex demands a remarriage

Chapter 599:

His voice softened, and he gave her hand a gentle pat. “Stay strong, Carrie. There is still so much to be done. Gracie only had you.”

Carrie drew in a shaky breath, forcing herself to nod. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

After inquiring about the best funeral home in Orkset, she learned that the hospital often worked with high-end services, as its patients were typically affluent or influential.

While arrangements were being made, she followed the nurse to take Gracie to the morgue.

The white sheet draped over Gracie’s still form blurred before Carrie’s eyes. She stood rooted to the spot, her thoughts spiraling. Moments ago, Gracie had been vibrant, smiling, attending her wedding.

Now, the silence of death cloaked her. Was this death? Carrie wondered.

One moment lying in a hospital bed, the next… gone.

Her fingers hovered over the edge of the sheet. She hesitated, the fragile hope of a miracle blooming in her chest.

Perhaps, if she did not lift the sheet, Gracie might stir, might wake, might prove this all a cruel misunderstanding.

The cold of the morgue seeped into her bones, both a physical chill and an emotional one. She crossed her arms, rubbing them for warmth, when a large coat was gently draped over her shoulders.

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She turned, startled, to find Daxton standing behind her. His worried gaze softened as it met hers.

“Daxton,” Carrie murmured, her voice trembling, “it is so cold in here. Gracie will be cold too. Can you bring her a blanket?”

Daxton’s grip on her shoulders tightened slightly, his tone low but firm. “Carrie, you have to stop. Gracie is not cold anymore. She is… not here. She has moved on to another world.”

“No!” Carrie shook her head vehemently, stepping back. Her voice cracked, the words spilling out in a torrent of denial. “She is right here with me. She is lying here, Daxton. She has not gone anywhere.”

Daxton sighed, the weight of her grief bearing down on him as much as it did on her. “Carrie, you must wake up. Life brings losses, and we have to learn to let go. You are not a child anymore. You must find the strength to say goodbye.”

Carrie’s composure shattered like glass. “I do not want to say goodbye!” she cried, her voice echoing through the cold, sterile room. When his grip did not loosen, she acted on impulse, lowering her head and sinking her teeth into his arm.

Years of dealing with Kristopher’s physical strength had taught her that biting was often the only way to break free. Now, consumed by her anguish, she acted without thought. Daxton winced but refused to let go, his arms tightening around her as if anchoring her to reality.

“Miss…” The nurse nearby gasped, stepping forward in alarm. Daxton’s voice, sharp and commanding, stopped her in her tracks. “Leave us. Now.”

The nurse hesitated, her gaze darting between them, then quickly retreated under Daxton’s stern glare.

The room fell silent, save for Carrie’s muffled sobs and the faint hum of the morgue’s machinery.

Daxton stood firm, his arm bleeding beneath his thin shirt, the fabric darkening with crimson.

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