No Script For Me, No Mercy For Him

Chapter 4

I shoved through the crowd and tried to run into the burning theater, but two crew members wrapped their arms around me and held me back.

"The fire is too strong! You can't go inside!"

I searched frantically for Graham.

He wasn't there. Neither was Camille.

A production assistant stammered out an explanation.

"Director Foster said the smoke frightened her, so Mr. Pierce took her away first. They thought the cries from inside were Noah acting."

I stood frozen and watched the flames consume my only remaining family.

Noah's breathing was barely detectable when the paramedics rushed him into the emergency room. The doctors fought to save him for two hours.

I sat on a plastic chair in the hallway and watched the second hand on the clock move one mark at a time.

At last, the light above the emergency room went dark.

The doctor emerged, removed his mask wearily, and shook his head.

"He suffered severe smoke inhalation. With his preexisting respiratory disease, he couldn't survive the delay in treatment."

I stood and bowed my head calmly.

"Thank you for trying."

I entered the morgue and watched them cover Noah with a white sheet.

It looked exactly like the cruel joke Graham had staged at the wedding several days earlier.

This time, however, it was real.

With a warm towel, I slowly wiped the soot from Noah's face.

"Don't be afraid, Noah. I'm taking you home."

I signed the necessary forms, contacted the crematorium, and gave the police my statement. I didn't shed a single tear.

While I waited for Noah's ashes, my phone vibrated. Graham had sent me several w******p messages.

Graham: Don't be angry anymore. I heard there was a small accident on set. The firefighters arrived in time, so Noah was probably only frightened, right?

Graham: Apologize to him for me. I had my assistant transfer 500,000 dollars. Buy Noah something he likes.

Graham: I reserved the entire Celestial Tower Rooftop Restaurant for 8:00 p.m. tonight. I'll give you a real proposal this time.

The screen brightened, dimmed, and finally went black.

Then an employee called my name and handed me an urn.

Holding Noah's ashes against my chest, I never replied.

Several hours later, I returned to the downtown penthouse where Graham and I had lived together for six years.

I took only my ID and several pieces of old clothing.

Before leaving, I opened the computer and logged into a social media account with millions of followers. Camille normally used it to promote her new productions.

The password was Graham's birthday. I had known it for years.

'Tonight, Noah and I will give them one final gift.'

End of Tessa's POV.

*****

At 8:30 p.m. that evening, Graham stood at the center of a stage in Bellmere's most exclusive open-air rooftop restaurant.

He wore a custom-made formal suit, and 99,999 red roses surrounded him. Bellmere's wealthiest residents and members of the media filled the seats below.

His assistant hurried over, sweating heavily.

"Mr. Pierce, we still can't reach Ms. Brooks. Her phone is off."

Graham frowned, impatience flashing in his eyes.

"She's still throwing a tantrum. Find out where she is. Send a car to bring her here, and tell her not to test my patience."

Suddenly, a disturbance swept through the audience. Everyone lowered their eyes to their phones, their expressions turning strange.

Camille went deathly pale as she looked at Graham.

Before he could ask what had happened, Camille's agent scrambled onto the stage with a tablet raised in one hand. Her voice trembled.

"Mr. Pierce, something terrible happened. A long post appeared on Camille's account. Five related topics are already trending."

Graham snatched the tablet from her.

Against a black background, a white headline seemed to burn into his eyes.

Six Years of Immersive Theater: My Brother Died for Your Art

His gaze raced over screenshots of familiar conversations between the three of them.

Then it stopped on the black-and-white photograph at the bottom of the post.

It was Noah Brooks's death certificate.