Stand-In Heiress's Last Sunflower Blooms in Graveyards - Chapter 5: Chapter 5
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Walking back into the police station, I noticed something I'd missed before—half the commendation plaques on the wall had Timothy's name on them.
Of course they did. Good people always get what they deserve, don't they?
He lost a fraud and found himself a treasure.
I thought dropping the case would be simple—sign a form, walk away, done.
Turns out the original responding officer has to be present for the paperwork.
Which meant I was about to face Timothy whether I wanted to or not.
And Jesus Christ, I really didn't want to.
I grabbed a passing officer: "What happens if I just... don't drop the case?"
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Timothy's voice sliced through the lobby as he walked in from the cold, snow melting on his shoulders.
"Goldstein! Perfect timing," his colleague called out. "Your victim wants to drop charges, but you didn't tell her she needed to come when you're on duty."
The guy sounded mildly annoyed but friendly. Timothy didn't even crack a smile. His face was harder than the ice forming on the windows.
I turned away from his stare and forced out a laugh: "Guess I'll know better next time."
Everyone else chuckled. Timothy's expression got even more murderous.
The whole process took less than sixty seconds.
Sign here, thumbprint there, stamp, done.
I stared at the paperwork in a daze. Our names sat side by side with bright red fingerprints, like some twisted wedding certificate.
Funny how two people's names could end up on the same document. Marriage licenses. Divorce papers. Police reports.
"You can leave now."
Timothy yanked the form away and didn't even look at me. The dismissal was brutal and final.
"Timothy..."
I wanted to say something—*anything*—but his name stuck in my throat like broken glass.
The front door slammed open and someone rushed in, bringing a gust of freezing air and snow.
Katherine threw herself into Timothy's arms like she belonged there.
"Baby!" She buried her face in his chest, practically purring. "It's New Year's Eve! Please say you'll come over tonight?"
Timothy's whole demeanor transformed. His arms came around her automatically, and he cupped her frozen hands in his warm ones.
"What are you doing out in this blizzard, crazy girl?"
"Everyone's working late on New Year's, so I brought homemade ravioli for the whole precinct!"
Watching them together felt like swallowing acid. They looked so fucking perfect—him protective and gentle, her glowing with happiness.
I started backing toward the exit, trying to disappear.
Good thing I caught myself. I'd almost violated the strangers rule.
Strangers don't need dramatic farewells.
Outside, the wind cut through me like razors, and my feet kept slipping in the deepening snow.
I huddled on the sidewalk, waiting for my ride and slowly turning into a popsicle.
My Uber was running late, but Katherine wasn't.
"Skylar, wait!"
She came running after me, her cheeks bright red from the cold.
"Today's your birthday too, right? I convinced Mom to let you come home. We can celebrate together, like old times."
I couldn't find words.
She pressed on, her voice getting smaller: "Look, you and Mom were family for twenty-two years. She's beating herself up about the other day. Please just come home?"
December 31st. My birthday. Another year I somehow survived.
I looked past her at Timothy, who was framed in the station's lit doorway, watching us.
I shook my head.
"I can't. I've got... people waiting for me."
I turned and walked away as fast as the snow would let me.
Behind me, Katherine's voice carried on the wind, confused and a little hurt:
"But Skylar... you don't have anyone left. Your birth parents are both dead, aren't they?"
I didn't turn around. I didn't stop. I just kept walking.
The snow was coming down harder now, the kind that makes the whole world go quiet.
I'd spent years in places that never got real winter. God, I'd missed this—the way snow could muffle all the noise and make everything feel clean and new.
My ride finally showed up. In the backseat, I breathed on the foggy window and drew a tiny birthday cake with my finger.
*Happy 27th birthday, Skylar. Hope it's your last shitty one.*
Back at my studio apartment, I made myself a bowl of spaghetti with butter and parmesan—birthday dinner for one.
The steam rising from the pasta made my eyes water. Or maybe that was just me.
"Happy birthday to me," I whispered to my empty apartment. "Maybe next lifetime I'll get to be healthy and keep the people I love."
The doorbell rang.
Rachel stood in my hallway holding two shiny balloons and wearing the biggest grin I'd seen all day.
"Skylar fucking Madden! We're going to Times Square to watch the ball drop!"
"Sure, yes."
Being surrounded by strangers sounded infinitely better than sitting alone with my thoughts.
Of course they did. Good people always get what they deserve, don't they?
He lost a fraud and found himself a treasure.
I thought dropping the case would be simple—sign a form, walk away, done.
Turns out the original responding officer has to be present for the paperwork.
Which meant I was about to face Timothy whether I wanted to or not.
And Jesus Christ, I really didn't want to.
I grabbed a passing officer: "What happens if I just... don't drop the case?"
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Timothy's voice sliced through the lobby as he walked in from the cold, snow melting on his shoulders.
"Goldstein! Perfect timing," his colleague called out. "Your victim wants to drop charges, but you didn't tell her she needed to come when you're on duty."
The guy sounded mildly annoyed but friendly. Timothy didn't even crack a smile. His face was harder than the ice forming on the windows.
I turned away from his stare and forced out a laugh: "Guess I'll know better next time."
Everyone else chuckled. Timothy's expression got even more murderous.
The whole process took less than sixty seconds.
Sign here, thumbprint there, stamp, done.
I stared at the paperwork in a daze. Our names sat side by side with bright red fingerprints, like some twisted wedding certificate.
Funny how two people's names could end up on the same document. Marriage licenses. Divorce papers. Police reports.
"You can leave now."
Timothy yanked the form away and didn't even look at me. The dismissal was brutal and final.
"Timothy..."
I wanted to say something—*anything*—but his name stuck in my throat like broken glass.
The front door slammed open and someone rushed in, bringing a gust of freezing air and snow.
Katherine threw herself into Timothy's arms like she belonged there.
"Baby!" She buried her face in his chest, practically purring. "It's New Year's Eve! Please say you'll come over tonight?"
Timothy's whole demeanor transformed. His arms came around her automatically, and he cupped her frozen hands in his warm ones.
"What are you doing out in this blizzard, crazy girl?"
"Everyone's working late on New Year's, so I brought homemade ravioli for the whole precinct!"
Watching them together felt like swallowing acid. They looked so fucking perfect—him protective and gentle, her glowing with happiness.
I started backing toward the exit, trying to disappear.
Good thing I caught myself. I'd almost violated the strangers rule.
Strangers don't need dramatic farewells.
Outside, the wind cut through me like razors, and my feet kept slipping in the deepening snow.
I huddled on the sidewalk, waiting for my ride and slowly turning into a popsicle.
My Uber was running late, but Katherine wasn't.
"Skylar, wait!"
She came running after me, her cheeks bright red from the cold.
"Today's your birthday too, right? I convinced Mom to let you come home. We can celebrate together, like old times."
I couldn't find words.
She pressed on, her voice getting smaller: "Look, you and Mom were family for twenty-two years. She's beating herself up about the other day. Please just come home?"
December 31st. My birthday. Another year I somehow survived.
I looked past her at Timothy, who was framed in the station's lit doorway, watching us.
I shook my head.
"I can't. I've got... people waiting for me."
I turned and walked away as fast as the snow would let me.
Behind me, Katherine's voice carried on the wind, confused and a little hurt:
"But Skylar... you don't have anyone left. Your birth parents are both dead, aren't they?"
I didn't turn around. I didn't stop. I just kept walking.
The snow was coming down harder now, the kind that makes the whole world go quiet.
I'd spent years in places that never got real winter. God, I'd missed this—the way snow could muffle all the noise and make everything feel clean and new.
My ride finally showed up. In the backseat, I breathed on the foggy window and drew a tiny birthday cake with my finger.
*Happy 27th birthday, Skylar. Hope it's your last shitty one.*
Back at my studio apartment, I made myself a bowl of spaghetti with butter and parmesan—birthday dinner for one.
The steam rising from the pasta made my eyes water. Or maybe that was just me.
"Happy birthday to me," I whispered to my empty apartment. "Maybe next lifetime I'll get to be healthy and keep the people I love."
The doorbell rang.
Rachel stood in my hallway holding two shiny balloons and wearing the biggest grin I'd seen all day.
"Skylar fucking Madden! We're going to Times Square to watch the ball drop!"
"Sure, yes."
Being surrounded by strangers sounded infinitely better than sitting alone with my thoughts.
End of Stand-In Heiress's Last Sunflower Blooms in Graveyards Chapter 5. Continue reading Chapter 6 or return to Stand-In Heiress's Last Sunflower Blooms in Graveyards book page.