Nathaniel's voice was unsteady as he spoke. "Frey, you should calm down."

"Get out!" Frey snapped, her voice trembling with fury.

Taking a deep breath, she turned and walked out of the president's office.

Her steps faltered in the stairwell, her rapid breathing the only sound in her ears. She hurried into the nearby bathroom, turned on the faucet, and splashed cold water on her face. The reflection staring back at her was pale and hollow.

Frey wasn't sure if she was losing her mind or if Nathaniel was. The situation had spiraled far beyond her expectations and control.

After Frey left, Koen cautiously opened the office door. The silence was heavy. He hesitated before speaking, "Mr. Nathaniel, should we inform Ms. Frey that Mr. Jacob's death was indeed an accident? It has nothing to do with us."

"I mean, you were prepared to let him go..." Koen added quietly.

Nathaniel closed his eyes, exhaustion and frustration evident on his face. "It's useless. She won't believe it."

"She'll only hate me more."

Three days later, Jacob's funeral was held at a cemetery on the outskirts of town.

Frey and Peyton attended. Peyton wore black sportswear, while Frey was dressed in a black dress with a white windbreaker jacket. She clutched a bouquet of white chrysanthemums and stood silently among the small gathering.

Few people came to pay their respects as the Rivera family's downfall had left them isolated. In a world where helping those in need was rare, any additional scorn was more likely than sympathy. Frey stared at the cold tombstone. Jacob's black-and-white photo showed a bright, sunny smile, an image that now felt painfully heart-wrenching.

Her feelings were tangled. Her relationship with Jacob had been fraught with both affection and animosity, since their childhood days amid tulips and ending with their complex, unspoken farewell. Jacob had deceived the Rivera family and collaborated with Nathaniel. Part of her wished for his demise. Yet, he had also helped her avoid a car accident, saved her life, and offered her rare moments of kindness when she was at her lowest.

Peyton wept softly beside her. Emotional and compassionate by nature, Peyton was deeply affected by Jacob's death.

Frey remained impassive, her eyes locked on the funeral proceedings, her expression as unchanging as a black-and-white film.

Charles, now gray-haired and hunched with grief, stood numbly by his son's tombstone. The weight of his sorrow was almost palpable.

Barbara was absent, reportedly in poor health, and undergoing treatment in a nursing home.

Only a few old friends of the Rivera family came to pay their respects before leaving. Frey, Peyton, and Charles remained.

Peyton approached Charles. "Uncle Charles, my condolences."

"Thank you,"

," Charles replied, his gratitude evident. Despite the estrangement, he appreciated the sincerity of this young woman who had come to honor his son. Peyton stepped away, waiting for Frey at a distance.

Frey walked up to Charles, who met her gaze with cold suspicion. He still held her responsible for his son's downfall.

"Uncle Charles..."

"No!" Charles cut her off sharply, his eyes steely. "You don't deserve to call me that."

Frey fell silent, stepping back and bowing slightly in apology.

As she turned to leave, Charles's voice stopped her. "Nathaniel pushed your father down."

Frey froze, her body tensing.

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