MTLNOVEL Chapter 22: Chapter 22: The Art Of Grief
Clara's white Audi curved through serpentine mountain roads at dawn, tires humming over asphalt that stitched earth to sky like celestial thread. On the passenger seat, chrysanthemums bled gold against white petals, calla lilies stood sentinel, and baby's breath scattered like frozen stardust—a bouquet for ghosts.
She climbed cemetery steps with flowers clutched to her chest. Thirteen years had passed since the car crash that orphaned her.
（The Windsors, once family friends, had never set foot here.）
"Hi Mum, Dad," she whispered, polishing the obsidian stone until her reflection stared back—a woman fraying at the edges. When her fingertips brushed their smiling photographs, the dam shattered.
"I still haven't found who did this. I'm not the person you wanted me to be." Her voice cracked. "The Windsors hate me. Ethan… he despises me. Why is no one worth loving?" She hugged her knees. "Why leave me alone here?"
Elsewhere on the hill, Julian Lorimer accompanied his mother Sophia to her grandfather's grave. The quiet was shattered by a woman's wails—raw, guttural, the sound of a soul scraping bottom.
"Some poor girl losing a loved one," Sophia clucked.
Julian frowned. That voice… familiar. "Wait here, Mom."
"Another fling?" Sophia arched a brow. Her son's escapades never reached home, so she turned a blind eye.
"Just curious." Julian jogged toward the sound, grateful to dodge her "when will you marry" lecture.
Julian Lorimer froze mid-step, transfixed. Clara Morgan—Hartwell's fiercely controlled secretary—curled like a broken sparrow against granite. He discreetly snapped a photo, the shutter click swallowed by her sobs.
"Clara?" His voice startled them both. "You walk quieter than a cat burglar, Lorimer."
"Visiting your parents?" He nodded at the tombstone.
"Just missing them."She avoided his gaze. "You?"
"My grandfather's death anniversary." Julian dropped his usual smirk, voice gentle. "Hartwell doesn't know you're here, does he?"
Before she could answer, a familiar voice pierced the silence: "Clara Morgan! Fancy meeting Death's waiting room!"
What cosmic joke placed so many familiar faces in a cemetery today?
Mia dashed over, tugging a tall man. Julian's eyes lit—until he saw Mia ignore him completely.
"Mia," Clara gestured at Mia's companion, "new recruit?"
Mia hooked her arm through the man's. "Daniel Kim. My partner."
"Clara Morgan, My colleague."
Daniel adjusted his wire-framed glasses—the picture of academic gentility. But his gaze snagged on Clara's tear-streaked face, lingering with fascination.
Julian snorted. Pathetic.
Mia noticed Clara's red eyes. "Daniel, could you go ahead? I need to talk to Clara."
After Daniel left—throwing one last leer at Clara—Julian stepped forward. "Ms. Su, you ignored me."
Mia offered glacial courtesy: "Mr. Lorimer. Apologies—girl emergency. Coffee another time?"
Julian advanced. "Define 'another time.' Tuesday? Four PM? The café beside Hartwell Tower where you avoid me each afternoon?"
Mia flushed. Clara intervened: "Stop terrorizing her, Julian." She dragged Mia toward the Audi. "We're leaving."
As the Audi peeled away, Julian texted Sebastian:
Found your sparrow at cemetery.
P.S. She cries like Renaissance art.
Three seconds later, his phone exploded:
Sebastian: TaXX Nightclub. 9PM.
Sebastian: Choose your coffin wood.
Julian laughed aloud, pocketing the device. Daniel's lecherous face still haunted him—a problem needing Hartwell-grade resolution.
He glanced back one last time at the Morgan headstones beneath twisted oaks—the dates 2010 gleaming like fresh blood.