In the darkness, the screen of the cheap burner phone glowed like a pale, gaping wound.
The photo's resolution was terrible, the image violently blurred from being taken in secret, yet it still sliced flawlessly through Annelise's retinas.
Hackett's black Bentley, a car she knew down to its bones.
The underground parking garage of the apartment building on the east side.
And the woman in the white dress, holding a child—Clarissa.
The timestamp in the corner read 10:45 PM.
Annelise's gaze slowly shifted to the screen of her primary phone.
Hackett's message was still sitting in the chat.
"Annelise, we have back-to-back surgeries at the hospital tonight, so I won't be coming home. Get some rest."
Sent at 10:43 PM.
He was soothing her with lies of working overtime while driving straight to reunite with another woman and their child.
Two minutes.
From lie to truth, it only took two minutes.
Slowly, Annelise locked both phone screens.
The room plunged back into dead silence.
She wasn't angry. She wasn't crying. She didn't even feel heartbroken.
That heart had already died on the operating table.
What remained was nothing but a cold, hollow shell fueled entirely by vengeance and purpose.
She shoved the burner phone deep back under her mattress.
Then, she lay down, her eyes wide open, staring motionlessly at the ceiling.
The flames had burned out, leaving only ash.
But beneath that ash was a boiling sea of magma, more than enough to burn the entire Lehman empire to the ground.
Two days later, in the morning.
The weather was gloomy, hanging over the city like a massive, gray wet rag.
Dressed in a simple, modest dress, Annelise gave a slight bow to Lizzie, who was sipping her drink.
"Lizzie, I'd like to go to Serenity Chapel for a bit."
Her voice was faint, carrying the lingering weakness of her surgery, yet her eyes were completely devout.
"I've heard the chapel offers a very powerful fertility blessing. I'd like to... go and pray, to seek some good fortune for our family, and for Hackett."
Lizzie paused with her cup mid-air, lifting her eyelids to scrutinize her.
The Annelise standing before her was pale and emaciated, looking like a frail reed trembling in the wind, liable to snap at the slightest touch.
This pathetic, submissive display of a woman desperate to bear a child seemed to please her.
"Go ahead," Lizzie said, her tone miraculously devoid of its usual venom. "Have the driver take you."
"That's not necessary, Mother," Annelise replied immediately, injecting just the right amount of trepidation into her expression. "I'd like to walk there myself, to show my sincerity. Harriet can just accompany me."

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABEL
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: The Flower That Grew from Ashes