That very night, Shane was spirited out of the country.
As for Jerome? He raced straight through the dark night back to the funeral shop that sold the urn.
But he was too late. The exact urn Angel had wanted was already gone. The shop owner had sold it to another customer.
Jerome completely broke down, begging desperately, "I’ll pay ten times the price! No... a hundred times! I’ll pay a hundred times whatever it costs! Please, just sell me the urn. I’m begging you!"
The shop owner’s face twisted with irritation.
It was not that he was cold‑hearted. In this line of work, one sees every kind of birth, sickness, and death. After years on the job, it had simply become routine.
"Where the hell were you earlier? I called you, remember? You wouldn’t even fork over five hundred dollars for i
