Stand-In Heiress's Last Sunflower Blooms in Graveyards - Chapter 20: Chapter 20
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"These past five years have been torture for me too. Watching Skylar barely survive... it was killing me inside. I tried to help—I offered her money countless times, but she kept refusing..."
"I couldn't even face her when she was dying. I was terrified she'd hate me."
Katherine's voice broke: "I destroyed her life."
Katherine packed her things and left, taking only the t-shirt and jeans she'd worn when she first arrived.
Mrs. Farrell sat alone in the empty house, completely shattered.
Skylar had grown up at Lakecrest Estates, but after Katherine moved in, every corner held memories of their real daughter.
So they'd sold the Lakecrest house and bought this place.
As a little girl, Skylar used to raise silkworms in the garden. Mrs. Farrell would beg friends to bring mulberry leaves from upstate.
She remembered eight-year-old Skylar putting an entire bag of water beads in the bathtub before school. When the housekeeper ran a bath that evening, the expanded beads had flooded the entire bathroom.
The patio swing where Skylar loved sitting with her orange juice.
When Mrs. Farrell was sick and craving soup, ten-year-old Skylar had ridden her bike to the store in winter—the housekeeper was on vacation—and crashed on the way back, scraping herself bloody.
When her father asked why she hadn't treated her wounds first, she'd said: "I didn't want Mommy to go hungry..."
Mrs. Farrell clutched the DNA report, whispering: "Didn't want Mommy to go hungry..."
Timothy sat in his squad car watching snow fall, his expression growing darker.
*Does it snow in heaven? Skylar always hated the cold.*
Everyone kept telling Timothy to move forward, saying Skylar would want him to live well.
So he tried.
He buried himself in work, getting promoted from patrol officer to detective in under a year.
But every night, he'd hit that Mexican joint near campus and order their spiciest chicken.
He'd never been able to handle heat—used to just watch Skylar sweat through her food while he passed her water.
Now he could demolish ghost pepper wings and feel nothing.
He'd gotten numb to it.
The realization hit him hard: *What if I get numb to losing her too?*
That thought scared him more than anything.
November 2025, and Timothy still couldn't sleep. He'd lie awake desperately trying to remember Skylar's face—needing that image before he could rest.
After another sleepless night of tossing and turning, Timothy sat up and downed half a bottle of Ambien.
*This has to work.*
Maybe he'd dream of her.
He passed out, but no dreams came.
*No Skylar in his dreams meant no point in waking up.*
Timothy came to in a hospital bed.
Kevin Hanks—his partner and closest friend for years—stood beside him, face dark with worry and anger: "Timothy, what the fuck is wrong with you?"
"You got problems? We grab beers, we talk shit out! You don't OD on sleeping pills like some teenager!"
"What could possibly be so bad that you'd pull this shit?"
"How could you be so goddamn stupid?"
Timothy saw the tear stains on Kevin's face.
His voice came out like sandpaper: "Kev, I wasn't trying to... I just couldn't sleep."
He really hadn't been trying to kill himself. He'd just... needed the pain to stop for a few hours.
"I couldn't even face her when she was dying. I was terrified she'd hate me."
Katherine's voice broke: "I destroyed her life."
Katherine packed her things and left, taking only the t-shirt and jeans she'd worn when she first arrived.
Mrs. Farrell sat alone in the empty house, completely shattered.
Skylar had grown up at Lakecrest Estates, but after Katherine moved in, every corner held memories of their real daughter.
So they'd sold the Lakecrest house and bought this place.
As a little girl, Skylar used to raise silkworms in the garden. Mrs. Farrell would beg friends to bring mulberry leaves from upstate.
She remembered eight-year-old Skylar putting an entire bag of water beads in the bathtub before school. When the housekeeper ran a bath that evening, the expanded beads had flooded the entire bathroom.
The patio swing where Skylar loved sitting with her orange juice.
When Mrs. Farrell was sick and craving soup, ten-year-old Skylar had ridden her bike to the store in winter—the housekeeper was on vacation—and crashed on the way back, scraping herself bloody.
When her father asked why she hadn't treated her wounds first, she'd said: "I didn't want Mommy to go hungry..."
Mrs. Farrell clutched the DNA report, whispering: "Didn't want Mommy to go hungry..."
Timothy sat in his squad car watching snow fall, his expression growing darker.
*Does it snow in heaven? Skylar always hated the cold.*
Everyone kept telling Timothy to move forward, saying Skylar would want him to live well.
So he tried.
He buried himself in work, getting promoted from patrol officer to detective in under a year.
But every night, he'd hit that Mexican joint near campus and order their spiciest chicken.
He'd never been able to handle heat—used to just watch Skylar sweat through her food while he passed her water.
Now he could demolish ghost pepper wings and feel nothing.
He'd gotten numb to it.
The realization hit him hard: *What if I get numb to losing her too?*
That thought scared him more than anything.
November 2025, and Timothy still couldn't sleep. He'd lie awake desperately trying to remember Skylar's face—needing that image before he could rest.
After another sleepless night of tossing and turning, Timothy sat up and downed half a bottle of Ambien.
*This has to work.*
Maybe he'd dream of her.
He passed out, but no dreams came.
*No Skylar in his dreams meant no point in waking up.*
Timothy came to in a hospital bed.
Kevin Hanks—his partner and closest friend for years—stood beside him, face dark with worry and anger: "Timothy, what the fuck is wrong with you?"
"You got problems? We grab beers, we talk shit out! You don't OD on sleeping pills like some teenager!"
"What could possibly be so bad that you'd pull this shit?"
"How could you be so goddamn stupid?"
Timothy saw the tear stains on Kevin's face.
His voice came out like sandpaper: "Kev, I wasn't trying to... I just couldn't sleep."
He really hadn't been trying to kill himself. He'd just... needed the pain to stop for a few hours.
End of Stand-In Heiress's Last Sunflower Blooms in Graveyards Chapter 20. Continue reading Chapter 21 or return to Stand-In Heiress's Last Sunflower Blooms in Graveyards book page.