Poison Rose of Avalon

Mark's body was prepared for its final farewell. Like many middle-class families, his loved ones chose cremation at the hospital—an option often preferred for its affordability compared to the high cost of burial plots.

Liora and Amara were dressed in black, the dresses provided by Officer Park, once worn by his wife and daughter.

He felt deeply for Liora and Amara, whose grief had rendered them silent.

Liora leaned down and kissed her father's forehead one last time, choking on her words. Tears streamed down her innocent face, uncontrollable and raw.

The realization that she would never see her father again cut through her like a thousand knives.

She had once lived a happy life with her parents, but everything had shattered before her eyes. She could still remember the last look in her father's eyes—a silent promise that he would make everything right. But now, fate had played its cruel hand, stealing the strongest anchor of her life.

As they prepared for the cremation, Liora's sobs grew louder, more desperate.

Officer Park, the only one there with them, tried to comfort her with a hug, but the pain was too intense for Liora to bear silently.

Her cries rang out with such force that it felt as if they could awaken the entire world, shaking the hearts of those who heard.

"Don't go, Papa. Please come back!" she wailed.

Officer Park's heart clenched with pain as he watched the little girl's sorrow. He held Liora tightly, casting a concerned glance at Amara, who refused to shed a single tear. Amara gently brushed her husband's shaved head, as if coaxing him into an eternal sleep.

"Liora, send your father with a smile for him to rest in peace in the afterlife."

Witnessing Liora's grief stirred painful memories of Officer Park's own separation from his family.

He longed to ease Liora's suffering. To do so, he resolved to stay by her side until she felt better. He couldn't abandon her—not just because of his duty as an officer, but because of a deep moral responsibility as a fellow human being.

Liora looked up at him and whispered, "I don't want to trouble Papa."

Her sobs were soft, barely audible, as she wept at the thought of causing her father pain with her crying. No, she didn't want that.

Mark's body was gently transferred to the cremation chamber, where it would be reduced to ashes.

After the cremation, a nurse approached them, holding a small urn containing Mark's remains.

Liora took the urn in her trembling hands, her mind flooded with memories of her father—the way he always made her laugh with his silly jokes, how he comforted her whenever she was scared. But now, he was gone… forever.

Officer Park drove Liora and Amara back to their home, ensuring they were safely settled. Despite the heavy silence hanging over them, he lingered on their front porch, staying close in case they needed anything.

As Officer Park sat in the chair on the front porch, he observed the quiet around him. Not a single neighbor had come to offer comfort, leaving Amara and Liora to grieve alone. It was as though they had become invisible.

Amara, still dressed in black, sat on the couch, her gaze fixed on the front door as if waiting for Mark to walk through it at any moment.

Liora gently placed the urn with her father's ashes on a glass shelf in the living room, surrounded by family photos, their smiles now forever frozen in time.

"This is where you belong, Papa, among our happiest memories. I hope you're at peace now..."

Turning to her mother, who was still staring at the door, Liora softly asked,

"Mama, aren't you going to change your clothes?"

Amara turned slowly to look at Liora, offering a faint smile as she touched her daughter's face before returning her gaze to the door.

Officer Park, though reluctant to intrude, couldn't help but listen. He could see how Liora's mother had withdrawn, lost in her grief, unresponsive to anything around her.

He knocked gently on the door before entering,

"Liora, would you like to go to the bakery and get some bread?"

"Yes," Liora replied instantly, her hunger making the trip a welcome distraction.

In the quiet lane of Oakridge Heights, a small bakery stood, its colorful display of breads, pastries, and snacks visible through a large window.

 The warm aroma of freshly baked bread filled the air as Liora stepped closer to the bakery, which was bustling with customers.

"This bakery seems to be pretty popular around here." 

"Yes, it is. My father used to..." Liora's voice trailed off, halting herself before she could say more. The words threatened to bring on a flood of tears, so she bit them back.

"What's your favorite treat from here?" Dane asked, trying to lift her spirits with a change in topic.

"I love the pepper baguette, orange marmalade cake, house-baked pizza, and mint chocolate cupcakes," Liora said, her mouth watering as she listed off her favorites.

Dane smiled, happy to see a playful side of Liora finally emerge, the way it should be for a ten-year-old.

"Just hearing all of that makes me hungry!"

Liora glanced up at Officer Park, who gave her a warm, encouraging smile.

"Let's get all your favorites, then!"

Liora's eyes sparkled with excitement at the thought, her joy radiating like the bright lights of Christmas.

The soft sound of footsteps echoed on the Valentine's front porch, the quiet tapping of shoes on the tiles.

Amara, who had been sitting motionless, suddenly showed signs of alertness. Her pupils contracted and dilated rapidly as she focused intently on the noise.

She had been waiting for this moment. The door was left unlocked, just as she had planned, for Liora to come home.

With a sudden, powerful shove, a massive man pushed the door open. It creaked slowly, as though it were an entryway into an unknown, mysterious realm, revealing the figures of those waiting on both sides.

A man dressed sharply in a dark blue suit, holding a sleek black cane, stepped into the house, followed closely by a group of imposing, well-built men. It was Tony Gambino—the man who had irreversibly altered the course of the Valentine family's fate. He exuded an unmistakable air of menace.

His eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto Amara. They roamed over her figure, lingering as they traced her from head to toe. A sly, almost predatory grin spread across his face.

"Now that I see you," he mused, "I regret taking Mark instead of you. What a shame." His voice dripped with contempt.

The smirk that twisted his lips was dark, laced with intentions too sinister to ignore, as if he could easily seize her and whisk her away without a second thought.

Amara rose from the couch, her stillness shattered the instant Gambino uttered Mark's name.

"You're the curse that destroys everything you touch," she hissed, her finger trembling with fury as she pointed at him. Her eyes flared with outrage, her nose reddening with the heat of her anger.

Tony's laugh was arrogant, a low, mocking sound. "Looks like I've stumbled across a wild tigress while hunting rabbits," he said, clearly entertained by her response.

"Be careful!" Amara shot back, her voice cold with fury. "You might just die at the hands of the tigress, Tony Gambino."

The men behind Tony stiffened, their glares fixed on Amara, ready to pounce at the slightest provocation. But Tony raised a hand, signaling them to stay back.

"I must say," he said, his tone mocking but laced with a touch of curiosity, "there's a stark contrast between you and Mark. He begged me to spare both your lives, and yet here you are, threatening me in broad daylight. How... interesting." He chuckled, the sound like the purring of a cat playing with its prey.

 Tony's intent was clear—he wanted to wound Amara, to insult Mark in front of her, and subtly hint that she, too, should beg for mercy.

But as his smug smile slipped, his expression hardened into something more menacing.

"If I were you, I'd be very careful about what you say," he said, his tone low and threatening. "Don't forget, you still have a daughter to protect."

Amara locked eyes with him, her voice unwavering. "If you're finished with your threats, you can leave now."

No trace of fear remained in her. Instead, a fierce resolve burned in her gaze, a desire to tear down the man standing before her.

Tony stared at her in disbelief. He couldn't fathom her audacity. Where was this courage coming from?

'Is she not afraid of losing her daughter? Why isn't she begging for mercy like everyone else? Instead, she dares to threaten me... How dare she?'

Amara's refusal to bend shattered every expectation Tony had for the Valentine family.

At first, he had planned to give her a year to repay the debt, but now, with his ego bruised and his patience wearing thin, he made a sudden decision.

"You have one month to pay me back, Amara," he said, his voice now cold and final, the combination of anger and wounded pride making his words even more dangerous.

Amara stood unyielding, her gaze sharp as steel.

"You'll get your money back. Now, get out of my house," she commanded with quiet confidence.

Tony's face twisted with rage. "You'll regret this, Amara. Remember my words."

As he turned toward the door, ready to leave, Amara's voice followed him.

"Your time is ticking, Tony Gambino!"

She raised her left arm, tapping her watch with a single finger, a deliberate mockery of the man who had threatened her family. "Tick-tock, tick-tock."

Tony's nostrils flared in fury as he stormed out, his men trailing behind him, leaving behind the smoldering tension of the confrontation.

The moment Tony left, all the adrenaline drained from Amara's body. She collapsed onto the couch, her hands shaking uncontrollably. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying to quell the storm of fear rising within her.

Though she had projected an image of calm bravery in front of Tony, deep inside, she was a trembling wreck.

Her hands continued to shake as she reached for her phone, her fingers clumsy with the weight of the moment. Even something as simple as dialing a number felt insurmountable after the confrontation.

She scrolled through her contacts, her vision blurred with anxiety, her hands unsteady as she tried to find the right name. With a sharp breath, she steadied herself, finally pressing the entry for 'Chairman.'

The phone rang just once before a deep voice came through the speaker.

"I've been waiting for your call," the voice said, calm and unyielding.