Chapter 7 - The Funeral He Tried to Control
Daisy’s funeral was scheduled for Saturday morning.
By Friday night, reporters were outside my father’s property.
The story had leaked.
Not the medical details.
Not yet.
But enough.
The wealthy founder of Bennett Technologies.
The estranged Stone heiress.
A dead child.
Frozen corporate accounts.
A financial investigation.
Social media did what social media always does.
It turned grief into entertainment.
Strangers decided who I was.
Some called me a grieving mother.
Others claimed Dad and I were using Daisy’s death to take Mason’s company.
One anonymous account posted:
Funny how she runs back to billionaire Daddy the moment the money dries up.
I made the mistake of reading comments for eleven minutes.
Then Dad took my phone.
“No.”
“I need to know what people are saying.”
“No, you don’t.”
“What if Mason is spreading this?”
“Then Arthur handles Mason. You bury your daughter.”
That sentence reset everything.
I stopped reading.
Saturday morning was cold and clear.
Daisy’s service was small.
I did not want cameras.
I did not want business partners.
I did not want strangers.
Only people who had loved her.
Her nurses came.
Her cardiologist came.
My aunt came.
Even Evelyn stood quietly in the back.
A tiny arrangement of daisies covered the front of the chapel.
Beside it sat the pink pillow.
I chose not to place it with her.
I needed something to take home.
Just before the service began, Arthur approached me.
“Mason is outside.”
Of course he was.
My hands went cold.
“He wants to attend?”
“Yes.”
“Is Chloe with him?”
“No.”
Dad stood.
“He is not coming inside.”
I looked at him.
“Wait.”
“Alyssa.”
“He’s her father.”
“He abandoned her.”
“I know.”
“He—”
“I know.”
Dad stopped.
I thought about Daisy asking Mason not to leave her hospital room.
Daddy, don’t go.
Mason had gone.
But Daisy had loved him.
Children do not measure love by evidence files.
She loved him because he was her father.
“Let him sit in the back.”
Dad stared at me.
“Why?”
“Not for him.”
He understood.
Mason entered after everyone else.
He wore a black suit.
No tie.
He looked terrible.
For once, I did not know whether it was real.
He sat alone.
The service began.
The minister spoke about the cruelty of a life measured in only three years and the impossibility of measuring what those three years meant.
Then people shared memories.
Evelyn told everyone Daisy insisted hospital socks were “banana shoes.”
Her cardiologist told a story about Daisy pretending her stethoscope was a necklace.
I stood last.
I had written something.
I never looked at the paper.
“My daughter believed tomorrow was a promise.”
The chapel became completely silent.
“She thought every bad day ended because a good day was waiting somewhere behind it.”
I looked at the little white coffin.
“I spent her last night promising her medicine was coming.”
My voice cracked.
“I was wrong.”
Behind me, someone began crying.
Maybe Mason.
I did not turn around.
“I can’t give Daisy another tomorrow. So all I can do is make sure what happened to her matters today.”
That was all.
I sat down.
Afterward, outside the chapel, Mason approached me.
Arthur and Dad immediately moved closer.
“I just want one minute.”
I looked at him.
“One.”
Mason’s face was pale.
“Thank you for letting me attend.”
“That wasn’t for you.”
“I know.”
For several seconds he looked toward the hearse.
“I loved her.”
I said nothing.
“I made mistakes.”
I almost laughed.
Mistakes.
“I was trying to keep everything from collapsing.”
“Our daughter collapsed.”
His eyes filled.
“You think I don’t know that?”
“I don’t know what you know anymore.”
“I never wanted Daisy dead.”
“Then why didn’t you pay for the medicine?”
His jaw tightened.
“Because I thought we had another day.”
“You were told we didn’t.”
“Doctors say worst-case scenarios all the time.”
“You asked about donating her corneas before she died.”
“That wasn’t—”
“And you went into her room.”
His face changed.
“She was awake.”
“I know.”
“She asked you to stay.”
“I couldn’t.”
“No. You wouldn’t.”
His voice rose.
“I was falling apart.”
“So was she.”
He looked away.
I thought he would leave.
Instead he said:
“You need to stop your father.”
I stared at him.
There it was.
At his daughter’s funeral.
Money.
Again.
“Go.”
“Alyssa, the company employs eight hundred people.”
“Go.”
“The board is going to remove me.”
“Go.”
“If Garrett forces default on those credit lines—”
Dad stepped forward.
But I held up my hand.
I wanted to finish this myself.
“You came to your daughter’s funeral to ask me to save your company.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Fair?”
I pointed toward Daisy’s coffin.
“Don’t use that word with me.”
Mason’s face hardened.
For a moment, grief vanished.
“You think Garrett will protect you forever?”
Dad moved.
Arthur stopped him.
Mason continued.
“When he gets what he wants, you’ll see what he really is.”
I looked at him.
“I already know what you really are.”
He stared at me.
Then walked away.
I thought that would be the end of it.
It wasn’t.
As the hearse prepared to leave, a black SUV pulled into the cemetery driveway.
A woman stepped out.
Mid-sixties.
Perfect blonde hair.
Black coat.
Pearls.
Mason’s mother.
Victoria Bennett.
I had not seen her in almost a year.
She walked directly toward me.
Mason saw her from across the parking lot.
His face changed instantly.
“Mom?”
Victoria ignored him.
She came to me.
Then she did something nobody expected.
She handed me an envelope.
“I should have given you this three years ago.”
I stared at it.
“What is it?”
Her eyes moved toward Mason.
“The first time I realized my son was taking money from Daisy.”
Mason began walking toward us.
Fast.
“Mom, don’t.”
Victoria stepped closer to me.
“Open it before he gets here.”
Inside was a bank statement.
One transaction had been circled in red.
$275,000.
Transferred from Daisy’s medical trust.
Recipient:
BENNETT DEVELOPMENT GROUP.
Date:
Three years earlier.
The day after Daisy’s first major heart surgery.
And at the bottom, written in Victoria’s handwriting, were six words:
He said you already knew.
I looked at Mason.
He stopped walking.
May you like
For the first time since Daisy died, his mother stood between us.
And she chose my side.
