No flowers for the dead - Chapter 43: Chapter 43
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The invitation didn’t come from Elara.
It came from the board.
A quiet, formal message, delivered with cool professionalism and veiled curiosity. Rae had expected it. She just hadn’t expected to accept.
But Elara had only smiled when she told her.
“They don’t know what to do with you,” she said. “Which is exactly why you need to walk in like you belong.”
And so Rae did.
⸻
The building was all glass and steel — Elias’s last architectural commission. Clean, symmetrical, intimidating. The kind of place meant to reflect control.
The boardroom was worse.
Polished table. Leather chairs. Men and women with eyes sharpened by years of negotiating in rooms where silence could be a weapon.
At the head of the table, Elias’s chair remained empty.
They didn’t dare fill it.
Not yet.
Not with Elara.
Not even with Rae.
But today, they wanted to meet her.
The other daughter.
⸻
She didn’t wear a suit.
She wore a dark green dress, simple but firm. No jewelry. No makeup beyond a swipe of dark lip gloss. She let her curls fall free.
She didn’t come to impress.
She came to be seen.
When she entered, a hush fell.
Some glanced at Elara.
Others simply stared.
But Rae stood straight, locked eyes with every face in the room, and said, “Thank you for inviting me.”
Polite.
Poised.
Unapologetic.
⸻
Introductions were brief.
The board chair, Ms. Kang, gave her a measured smile. “We knew of you, Rae. But we weren’t aware you’d be… involved.”
“I wasn’t either,” Rae said evenly. “Until I realized my father didn’t build this alone.”
A few nods. One cleared throat.
A man on the left leaned forward. “You don’t have a background in this world.”
“No,” Rae said. “But I know how to recognize value. I know how to listen. And I’ve seen what happens when power ignores its responsibility.”
A beat.
Then another voice, older, warmer — Mr. Dae. He’d known Elias the longest.
“Your father always said he’d die before his daughters were ready.”
Rae’s throat tightened. “He was right.”
“But he also said… when they are, the world will know.”
⸻
After the meeting, Rae stood in the empty boardroom, running her hand along the back of her father’s untouched chair.
Elara stepped beside her, quiet.
“You didn’t need me in there,” she said.
Rae smiled softly. “No. But I wanted you nearby.”
They stood in silence for a moment, looking out through the high windows at the city below.
“He didn’t know how to raise us,” Elara said. “But maybe, in some backwards way, he still taught us how to lead.”
Rae reached over, taking her sister’s hand.
“We don’t need his seat,” she said. “We’ll build our own.”
And outside, the city kept moving — unaware that the future of Elias’s legacy now beat in two hearts, not one.
It came from the board.
A quiet, formal message, delivered with cool professionalism and veiled curiosity. Rae had expected it. She just hadn’t expected to accept.
But Elara had only smiled when she told her.
“They don’t know what to do with you,” she said. “Which is exactly why you need to walk in like you belong.”
And so Rae did.
⸻
The building was all glass and steel — Elias’s last architectural commission. Clean, symmetrical, intimidating. The kind of place meant to reflect control.
The boardroom was worse.
Polished table. Leather chairs. Men and women with eyes sharpened by years of negotiating in rooms where silence could be a weapon.
At the head of the table, Elias’s chair remained empty.
They didn’t dare fill it.
Not yet.
Not with Elara.
Not even with Rae.
But today, they wanted to meet her.
The other daughter.
⸻
She didn’t wear a suit.
She wore a dark green dress, simple but firm. No jewelry. No makeup beyond a swipe of dark lip gloss. She let her curls fall free.
She didn’t come to impress.
She came to be seen.
When she entered, a hush fell.
Some glanced at Elara.
Others simply stared.
But Rae stood straight, locked eyes with every face in the room, and said, “Thank you for inviting me.”
Polite.
Poised.
Unapologetic.
⸻
Introductions were brief.
The board chair, Ms. Kang, gave her a measured smile. “We knew of you, Rae. But we weren’t aware you’d be… involved.”
“I wasn’t either,” Rae said evenly. “Until I realized my father didn’t build this alone.”
A few nods. One cleared throat.
A man on the left leaned forward. “You don’t have a background in this world.”
“No,” Rae said. “But I know how to recognize value. I know how to listen. And I’ve seen what happens when power ignores its responsibility.”
A beat.
Then another voice, older, warmer — Mr. Dae. He’d known Elias the longest.
“Your father always said he’d die before his daughters were ready.”
Rae’s throat tightened. “He was right.”
“But he also said… when they are, the world will know.”
⸻
After the meeting, Rae stood in the empty boardroom, running her hand along the back of her father’s untouched chair.
Elara stepped beside her, quiet.
“You didn’t need me in there,” she said.
Rae smiled softly. “No. But I wanted you nearby.”
They stood in silence for a moment, looking out through the high windows at the city below.
“He didn’t know how to raise us,” Elara said. “But maybe, in some backwards way, he still taught us how to lead.”
Rae reached over, taking her sister’s hand.
“We don’t need his seat,” she said. “We’ll build our own.”
And outside, the city kept moving — unaware that the future of Elias’s legacy now beat in two hearts, not one.
End of No flowers for the dead Chapter 43. Continue reading Chapter 44 or return to No flowers for the dead book page.