Page 138 of When Hearts Surrender

Live. Even when the world seems empty.

My thoughts flit back to Maxwell’s stormy painting of Lake Superior, the one he thought was soulless because it was missing hope, something I’d conveniently forgotten.How could I forget hope? There’s sunshine after the storm.

Slowly, I stand up, resolve flooding inside me. The storm is temporary. This pain is temporary. Perhaps Maxwell and I aren’t meant to be, but this won’t be the end of me. My dreams are still out there, hidden behind the clouds, and I won’t stop climbing until I reach them.

I’m Belle Law-McKenzie Anderson, and I won’t go down without a fight, and if Maxwell comes to his senses one day, he’ll have to prove he deserves me.

Because I deserve that and more.

Gritting my teeth, I speed down Houston Street toward FDR Drive, my heart throwing itself against my rib cage, begging to be let out so it can crawl back to its other half living in the mansion.

My little muse.

The lump forms in my throat as I shift gears, ignoring the honking cars, the dark expanse of the river beckoning me with its icy waters. Rain pelts against my face from the open window, the icy shards doing nothing to distract me from the scything pain that has been keeping me company since I walked away from her three days ago, knowing I was the reason for the tears and heartbreak on her face.

It felt wrong then, and it still feels wrong now. How could anything be right when I feel like my world has ended?

You took the choice away from her, you bastard.Our last conversation floats to my mind. I know I left her to save her, to buy me time to break the curse, if I can even break the curse. But my investigation hasn’t turned up anything new. I’m still waiting for the medical examiner’s report from Elias’s contact.

In the past few days, I’d spent hours poring through scrapbooks and other relics hidden away in the attic. I’d even called up Wraithmoor Antiquities, since Belle mentioned thinking someone in the shop may know something about the curse. But the girl who answered didn’t know anything, and she mentioned the owner was out of town.

I tried distracting myself from my constant anxiety by painting my portrait of Belle, the masterpiece I started but never finished. But the art that once brought me relief was now a burden, because every brushstroke reminded me of her—the soft streaks of black in her hair, the greens of her irises dotted by the lushest brown—the color of nature, as she used to remind me.

She saw beauty in everything.

She saw me.

She’s the streak of red missing inside the teal of my atrovirens, and now, without her, I’m empty.

You took the choice away from her.The words echo in my mind. I think back to what she said before, how there were two people in a marriage, how we should make decisions together and I feel a slither of regret.Did I make the wrong choice by walking away from her?

I swerve to the right to overtake a slow car. I’d hope a damn drive would give me some clarity on the curse, but instead, I’m hit with the wisdom of Belle’s words. Facing a reality that I might never break the curse, shouldn’t I tell her everything and let her decide?

My phone blares, and without looking at the screen, I answer and put the call on the speakers. “Anderson speaking.”

“Mr. Maxwell Anderson? I’m Dr. Greg Fenton, Elias’s referral. I work at the county coroner’s office.”

My heart stutters as my attention snares on to the deep voice on the other line.Elias’s medical examiner.“What do you have for me?”

“It took me a bit of time, but I went through all the photos and evidence gathered for the deaths of your late wife, mother, and grandmother. If I were the presiding examiner on the cases, I would’ve come to different conclusions.”

My breath freezes. “What do you mean?”

“There were unexplained anomalies. It’d be easy to overlook them. With your family’s influence, I’m sure there was a lot of pressure to close the cases quickly. Since the deaths occurred on your family’s properties and there were plenty of circumstantial evidence and eyewitnesstestimonies pointing to accidents, I assume the examiner thought it was easier to conclude as such, but…”

He pauses and I can barely focus on the road ahead of me. He clears his throat and continues, “If these were random cases, not influenced by your family’s name, please excuse me for being blunt, I’d be issuing a ruling of undetermined manner of death for all of them.”

“Why?” I rasp.

“For your grandmother, there was a large-gauge needle mark in her neck that was unexplained, and the aspirator showed abnormal readings. The embolism that caused her fatal cardiac arrest could’ve been due to external trauma. For your mother, there was a bruise forming on her back. It was very fresh, the injury very close to the time of death. However, all the other injuries indicated she fell face forward. But I wouldn’t be able to rule out if she was struck from behind and fell down the stairs.”

My breathing comes out in quick pants, his findings echoing in my mind.Their deaths could’ve been foul play.

The curse isn’t real. Belle’s words reverberate in my mind. Could she have been right all along?

“And Sydney?” I ask, my heart racing a mile a minute.

“Your late wife had abnormal lab results, showing a low positive for Rohypnol and ketamine. There were traces of alcohol in her system, which was consistent with your family’s testimony that she was intoxicated on the night of her death. My guess was, the examiner thought the results of the drug tests were false positives, since they coincided with a time when the county had a bad batch of test kits. And coupled with your family’s testimony and influence, along with the alcohol in her system, the death was ruled as accidental. But again, if it were me…”

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