Third Person's POV
Mortimer ripped open the master wardrobe. He knew Seraphina hadn't slept in this room for months, but the reality of it still hit him like a bucket of ice water.
His own clothes hung there in a row—charcoal, black, navy—a monochrome graveyard of expensive suits.
Next to them was a massive, yawning gap where her light-colored dresses used to be.
The empty hangers swayed slightly on the rod, the faint metallic clink-clink-clink sounding like a chorus of tiny, mocking laughs.
He spun around and lunged for the nightstand, pulling out the bottom drawer.
The velvet ring box was there. He opened it, and her diamond ring stared back at him, catching a sliver of pale light.
He remembered the day she'd taken it off. She'd told him the clinic had strict rules about jewelry d
