Encrypted vows

Chapter 3 Shadows behind sympathy

Lena woke before the sun had fully risen, though for a moment she didn’t understand why. The room was quiet, wrapped in that soft gray stillness that comes just before morning. She stared at the ceiling, unmoving, suspended between sleep and something heavier—something she couldn’t quite name.

Then it returned.

The airport, the call, the hospital and her mother lying on the hospital bed. Lena closed her eyes, her chest tightening as if something inside her was resisting the truth, pushing against it. But it didn’t fade.

“Right…” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the empty room. “This is real.”

She sat up slowly, the weight of the words settling into her bones. The room around her looked the same as it had the night before—neatly arranged, untouched—but something about it felt distant now. After a moment, she stood and walked toward the door.

Downstairs, voices drifted upward in low, controlled tones. Lena paused at the top of the staircase, her hand resting lightly against the railing as she listened and then descended slowly.

Walter stood in the living room, already dressed in a dark suit, his posture straight, his expression composed in a way that felt almost unnatural given the circumstances. Across from him stood Diane. Lena recognized her instantly.

She was Walter Reed’s secretary, a woman who should be in her 40s now. She had worked for him for years and knew the house well, even though she didn’t officially live there.

Even after three years, Diane looked exactly as she remembered—polished, efficient, carefully put together. There was something precise about her presence, as though nothing she did was ever unintentional.

“…we’ll need to confirm the burial schedule today,” Diane was saying, her voice calm but firm. “The funeral home in Los Angeles has availability tomorrow afternoon. They’ve prepared both options—traditional burial or cremation—but I assumed burial, given your family’s preferences.”

Walter nodded once. “Burial,” he said. “Private service.”

“Of course,” Diane replied smoothly. “I’ve already arranged for a gravesite at Forest Lawn. It’s quiet, secure, and discreet. The clergy is on standby, and transportation from the chapel to the cemetery has been scheduled.”

Lena stepped into the room.

Both of them turned.

“Good morning,” Diane said gently, her expression softening in an instant. “You must be Lena.”

Lena studied her for a second before answering. “Yes.”

“I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Lena said, her tone neutral.

Walter stepped in, his voice steady. “Diane has been handling the arrangements.”

“I can see that,” Lena replied.

For a moment, silence lingered between them.

Diane broke it with practiced ease. “I didn’t want you to have to worry about anything right now. You’ve just returned, and this is… overwhelming.”

Lena gave a small nod, though the tension in her shoulders didn’t ease.

“Yes,” she said simply.

Diane held her gaze for a fraction too long before turning back to Walter. “I’ll finalize the burial details and confirm the time.”

Walter inclined his head. “Keep it private.”

“Always,” Diane said.

She left the room quietly, her heels barely making a sound against the floor.

Lena watched her go before turning back to her father.

“She’s comfortable here,” Lena said.

Walter frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“In the house,” Lena clarified. “She seems… familiar with it.”

Walter didn’t respond immediately. “She’s been helping,” he said at last. “More than anyone else.”

“She’s your secretary.”

“She’s reliable.”

There was no defensiveness in his tone. Just certainty.

Lena held his gaze for a moment longer before letting it go. “Okay.”

Walter exhaled slowly, then gestured toward a chair. “Sit. We need to go over a few things.”

The next hour passed in a blur of decisions Lena never imagined she would have to make. Diane returned briefly with documents—burial permits, service outlines, guest confirmations—everything handled with unsettling efficiency.

The service would take place at a chapel in Los Angeles, followed by burial at Forest Lawn Memorial Park. A hearse would transport Vivian’s body from the hospital. A small gathering would attend—only close associates and a handful of relatives. No press nor public announcement.

It was all so… structured.

“So final,” Lena murmured at one point, almost to herself.

Walter didn’t respond.

When Diane left again, the house fell into a quieter rhythm.

“I spoke to the doctor,” Walter said after a while.

Lena looked up.

“They confirmed it was the impact. The collision was severe. She didn’t…” He paused, his voice tightening just slightly. “She didn’t suffer.”

Lena nodded, though the words didn’t bring comfort.

“It doesn’t change anything,” she said quietly.

Walter looked like he wanted to say more, but whatever it was, he held it back.

The burial took place the following afternoon beneath a pale Los Angeles sky.

The chapel was understated, filled with soft light filtering through tall windows. White flowers lined the aisle—roses, lilies, arrangements chosen with quiet elegance. Vivian’s casket rested at the front, polished wood reflecting the gentle glow around it.

Lena stood beside her father as people filed in, each offering condolences in hushed voices.

“She was a wonderful woman.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Such a loss.”

The words blurred together, losing meaning the more she heard them.

Walter remained composed throughout, his expression controlled, his posture unwavering. But Lena noticed the subtle signs—the tightening of his jaw, the slight hesitation in his breathing whenever someone mentioned Vivian’s name.

When the service began, the room fell into a reverent silence.

The officiant spoke softly about Vivian’s life—her kindness, her strength, the way she brought warmth into every space she entered. Lena listened, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her thoughts drifting to moments she hadn’t revisited in years.

Her mother was laughing in the kitchen.

Calling her late at night just to hear her voice.

Waiting at the airport—waiting for her.

That thought struck harder than the rest.

Waiting… and never arriving.

Lena’s throat tightened.

Beside her, Walter’s composure cracked—just slightly. His hand lifted, resting briefly against the edge of the casket, his fingers curling as though grounding himself.

For the first time, he looked… human but broken.

The procession to the cemetery was quiet.

Forest Lawn stretched out in soft green hills, the air still and almost unnaturally peaceful. The gravesite had already been prepared, the earth neatly arranged beside it.

As the casket was lowered, something inside Lena shifted.

This was it.

Not the hospital, not the words but the finality of it.

Her chest tightened as tears finally slipped freely.

Walter stood beside her, holding her hand firmly.

They stayed like that as the last prayers were spoken, as the ceremony ended, as people slowly began to leave.

Until it was just the two of them.

“I should’ve been there,” Lena whispered.

Walter shook his head, though his voice was rough when he spoke. “No.”

“She was coming to get me,” Lena said, her voice breaking. “If I hadn’t—”

“Lena,” he said firmly, turning to her. “This was not your fault.”

She looked at him, searching for certainty he didn’t fully have.

“She chose to come,” he continued more quietly. “Because she loved you.”

The words settled between them.

And for a moment, grief replaced everything else.

By evening, the house was filled again.

Guests moved through the rooms, speaking in softened tones, offering sympathy that felt both genuine and distant. Diane was everywhere—coordinating, guiding, ensuring everything remained seamless.

Lena watched her from across the room.

At one point, Diane rested a hand lightly on Walter’s arm as she spoke to him.

Walter didn’t pull away or react.

Something about that unsettled Lena.

Later, when the house finally quieted, Lena stepped outside.

The air was cooler now, the city lights glowing faintly in the distance. She leaned against the railing, exhaling slowly.

“She would’ve liked this weather.”

Walter’s voice came from behind her.

“I know,” Lena said.

He stepped beside her, both of them staring out into the night.

“She talked about you a lot,” he said after a while.

Lena gave a faint, tired smile. “That sounds like her.”

“She was proud of you.”

The words lingered.

“I should’ve come back sooner,” Lena admitted.

Walter shook his head. “You were living your life.”

“I don’t know how to do this.”

He was quiet for a long moment.

“Neither do I,” he said. “We just keep moving.”

He gave her shoulder a light, steadying touch before heading back inside.

Lena remained where she was.

Inside, Diane stood near the hallway, her expression calm as she lifted her phone.

“Everything is in place,” she said quietly. “Yes… she’s here.”

She ended the call before anyone could hear more.

Outside, Lena’s phone vibrated.

She frowned slightly and pulled it out, her gaze sharpening as she saw the notification from the system.

The one she had left running overnight.

She opened it quickly, scanning through the updated accident data.

At first, nothing seemed unusual.

Then—

Her expression changed.

The timeline, it wasn’t just incomplete but it had been altered.

Lena’s grip tightened around her phone as she scrolled again, slower this time, more precise. The timestamps didn’t align. Certain data points had been overwritten. Entire segments were missing—not erased, but replaced.

This wasn’t an error.

It was deliberate.

A cold realization settled in her chest.

This wasn’t just an accident. Someone had interfered.

Lena slowly lowered her phone and turned back toward the house.

Through the glass doors, she could see Diane moving inside—calm, composed, exactly as she had been all day.

Lena’s eyes narrowed slightly.

The grief was still there, heavy and real.

But something else had taken root beneath it. Suspicion.

For the first time since she returned, Lena stopped thinking like a grieving daughter.

And started thinking like something else entirely.

As her phone buzzed again, a new line of data appeared on the screen, a vehicle ID that was unregistered but was present at the scene just minutes before the crash.

Lena’s pulse quickened.

Because now she knew.

Her mother hadn’t just died on that road and she was followed.