"So this is how it ends?"
Emily's voice cracked, as she whispered to no one in particular. Rain was soaking through her skin, like grief itself.
"A golden life, reduced to six feet underground." She thought.
The casket sank slowly into the damp ground, swallowed by a hole that felt too small to hold a man with such magnitude.
The sky cried with her, thunder growled low and angry as if protesting the injustice. Raindrops trailed down the polished mahogany coffin, blurring the engraved golden name. 'Robert Williams White'
Her father. No, her whole world lowered into the ground like he was nothing more than a chapter, closed and buried.
Emily stood frozen at the edge of the grave, arms limp at her sides. She didn't bother with an umbrella. The rain drenched her, drowned her. It was better than feeling what was inside.
The Cemetery was nearly empty. No comforting arms, no weeping relatives, no whispered condolences asides members from the company, just the drooling voice of the priest, reading the rehearsed eulogy and the occasional shuffle of funeral workers.
A man in a tailored black coat stood under a jet umbrella several feet away, observing. Tall, sharp-featured, eyes like ice… calculating. He didn't cry. Didn't pray. He just watched, like a hawk circling a dying animal.
Emily didn't care.
Her eyes were glued to the casket as it disappeared. With it, went her name. Her feature. Her truth.
Robert had called his 'golden girl'. She had lived up to it in every way. The rescued orphan who was raised to power. Top of her class, ran part of his business at twenty, carried the golden name with pride. But now… the golden life was no more.
She thought she was his daughter.
She thought she knew who she was.
Until the will.
It was still folded neatly in her purse, as if hiding it could make it less real. But she had read it. Again, and again, and again.
"To Emily Williams, my adopted daughter, I leave my blessings and gratitude…"
"All assets, estates, and holdings are to be transferred to my biological daughter, Chloe Williams."
"Biological daughter!" Emily murmured, surprised. Who the hell is that?"
Robert had never for once mentioned having a biological daughter. Never slipped up, never told stories. Just her, only her.
It didn't make sense, it couldn't.
And yet… the papers were ironclad. Signed, witnessed. Notarized.
Her entire life, vaporized with one signature.
No one contested it, no one questioned it. The lawyer, Mr. Cabrera had only offered a polite shrug when she asked about the will's sudden change.
"Mr Williams amended it six weeks before his death," he said, not meeting her eyes. "It was within his rights."
Behind her, footsteps approached.
"Miss Williams?" A voice called, killing her thoughts.
She turned slowly
Mr. Cabrera. He stood under his umbrella like a man immune to grief. He didn't flinch at her bloodshot eyes. Didn't acknowledge the storm or her shaking shoulders.
He glanced at his watch, bored.
"We should finalize your departure from the estate by tonight."
Emily blinked. "Departure?"
Her voice was hoarse. "You mean… I'm being kicked out?"
"It's protocol," he replied dryly. "Miss Chloe arrives tomorrow, she's requested full privacy for her transition."
"Transition? Am I supposed to vanish? This isn't a job handover, this is my life!"
Her fist clenched inside her coat, knuckles whitened.
"She gets everything? All of it? I don't even get to stay in my own home
"You've been given a relocation allowance," Cabrera extended a brown envelope, as if it were a gift.
Emily stared at it, like it might explode.
"Take it," he said, without emotion. "We all have to start somewhere."
"Somewhere?" She thought, like she hadn't already built her world from nothing.
She didn't say thank you.
That night, she stepped into the grand mansion in Hidden Hills for the very last time. Silence screamed at her. The opulence, the marble floors, gold chandeliers, Velvet stairs runners felt like mockery now. How dare they remain untouched when her world was in ruins?
Each room echoes with ghosts of laughter, piano music, birthday dinners, and the quiet father-daughter mornings, reading the newspaper together.
She moved like a ghost, packing slowly what mattered.
One suitcase, a photo of Robert, and her graduation certificate.
Not the designer shoes, not the Cartier watches or diamond jewelry, not the handbags. All felt useless now, out of place.
She paused at the grand piano… Roberts pride. Every Sunday they played duets, with his glass of whiskey and her bare feet on the rug.
She walked over, trailing her fingers across the keys.
She pressed one, no sound.
She pressed again, still nothing but she didn't cry.
"Leaving so soon darling?"
The voice slithered from the shadows. Smooth, accented, and dripping with venom.
Erica Williams. The elegant viper of a wife, Robert married late in life. Younger, brittle, all silk and poison.
She was seated on the edge of the hallway bench, a glass of wine in her hand. Her black morning dress clung onto her like the statement: 'grief never looked this glamorous.'
Emily stopped, her heart twisted. Fingers curled tightly around the suitcase handle.
"I thought you slithered off hours ago?"
"I did," Erica said, raising slowly, sauntering toward her.
" Came back for a few documents, and something told me I should see it for myself. The little golden ghost, being exorcised."
Emily took a deep breath. "I didn't expect a farewell hug."
Erica tilted her head, smiling faintly.
"Robert had a generous heart. Too generous, if you ask me. Taking in strays, moulding an orphan into gold." Her eyes sharpened.
"But deep down, He knew blood matters."
Emily's jaw clenched. "He never treated me like a stray."
"Oh, darling. He treated you like a project," Erica replied, rising with a feline grace. "Pretty polished but never permanent."
Emily stepped forward, her voice trembling.
"I never expect anything from you. But from him, I would have died for that man."
Erica tilted her head with feigned sympathy.
"And yet he died rewriting the feature… without you in it."
The silence cracked like thunder.
Emily's throat tightened, but she didn't cry.
"You hated me because you saw something in me you'll never be."
"Careful," Erica's tone turned cold. Her smile dropped. She took a step closer, lowering her voice like a snake whispering just before the strike.
"I tolerated your existence while Robert was alive, but if I see you anywhere near this estate, or any remnants of this family…" She leaned in, her breath hot with wine and threat.
"…. I will erase whatever's left of you. And trust me, sweetheart, grief hasn't dulled me. It sharpened me."
When the gates closed behind her, she didn't cry. Not until the taxi turned onto the main road and Hidden Hills vanished into the rain-blurred distance.
She checked into a cheap hotel with flickering lights and mould in the corners
The concierge didn't recognise her. A year ago, she would have been greeted with sir or ma'am and wine on arrival.
Now she was just a new face, another stranger with nowhere to go.
She stared at the reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror, her makeup had smudged. Her hair clung around her neck. She looked tired. Old.
"Who am I now?".
She opened the brown envelope and counted the money. It was enough to live on for a few months. If she were smart, if she didn't make any mistakes.
She folded the envelope and placed it inside the drawer, right next to the photo of Robert.
Then she opened her laptop, Job Sites. Freelance pages. Anything that doesn't require a pedigree or connections. She submitted her resume to five places that night, none of which responded the next day.
She applied for more and more.
And when the rejection email started rolling in, she swallowed her pride and searched for something she never thought she'd type: temporary night jobs, no degree required, urgent hiring.
By the end of the week, she stood outside a neon-light club in Makati. Her heels clicked on the wet pavement as she hesitated at the entrance.
A man in a leather jacket greeted her.
"You Alexa?"
"Welcome to the Velvet Room," he said, holding the door open. "Here we don't ask questions. Just smile and survive.
She stepped inside.
And Emily Williams died.
Alexa Cortez was born.