My Cold-Hearted Husband Wants Me Back
Chapter 106: Soulless Witch

Chapter 106: Soulless Witch

For a moment, no one moved.

The rain had stopped, but the chill in the air remained, made colder by Amara’s words.

Compensation?

It echoed in Eryx’s ears like a slap.

Lunara’s lips parted slightly, as if she hadn’t heard right. Her tears stopped tearing as if grief had somehow warped reality.

"You came here," Eryx said slowly, voice razor-sharp, "to talk about money?"

Amara didn’t even flinch.

"We’re not asking for much," she said, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face, as if they were discussing a business deal and not standing over a child’s grave. "Just what’s fair. Mila had an insurance policy, didn’t she? And she was our family too."

Regina scoffed, the sound sharp and disbelieving. "You didn’t visit her once. Not once while she was fighting for her life."

"That doesn’t change our blood," Amara snapped, then turned back to Eryx with a rehearsed softness that didn’t reach her eyes. "You’re a man of resources. We didn’t know everything that was going on," Amara said quickly. "No one kept us informed."

Eryx took a slow step forward, eyes narrowing. "You were given every opportunity to be in her life. You chose not to be. And now you want to be compensated for your absence?"

Amara’s father shifted uncomfortably behind her, but her mother gave a tiny nod, as if silently agreeing with her daughter’s words.

Lunara stayed quiet, her shoulders trembling again, not with sorrow this time, but with a cold, exhausted anger. She looked at the coffin, then at Amara, and whispered, "She’s not even cold in the ground..."

"And you’re already digging for gold," Regina finished, her voice venomous.

No one spoke.

In the distance, Naomi stood still beneath the trees, her head bowed, arms wrapped tightly around herself. She hadn’t said a word since the funeral began. Not even when Lunara cried. Not even now.

Her silence, too, was part of the mourning.

Amara took a breath, smoothing her coat as if to gather composure. "We took care of Mila too, don’t forget. When you were too busy, we stepped in. She stayed at our house. Ate at our table."

Eryx didn’t move. His expression remained unchanged, sharp, unreadable.

"She laughed with us. Played in our living room." Amara’s voice became strangely bright, like someone delivering a rehearsed line. "We weren’t strangers to her. Don’t pretend we were."

Eryx’s gaze didn’t waver. His voice, when it came, was low and precise. "No. You weren’t strangers. Just pretenders."

Amara’s mouth opened slightly, but Eryx continued, cold as frost.

"What you did behind closed doors... I don’t know. And I won’t pretend I do. But I saw her face when she came home after staying with you. I saw how quiet she became."

A flicker of guilt or annoyance passed over Amara’s face.

"You were convenient, not kind," he said. "And now you’re here, dressing up your greed as grief."

He turned his body slightly, just enough to show he was done entertaining this. "If you came for money, you’re in the wrong place."

"But Mr. Grantham," Amara’s father finally spoke, hesitantly, "surely there’s a legal matter here... she was family—"

"No." His word was final. A razor in the cold air. "She was our family. Not yours."

Lunara still hadn’t spoken. Her eyes were locked on the coffin, her hand unconsciously clutching at the side of her dress. But her silence, like Eryx’s, had weight. A quiet fury.

Amara’s mother stepped forward now, trying to salvage ground. "You must understand... This isn’t personal. It’s about what Mila would have wanted—"

"She would’ve wanted you to care while she was still breathing," Regina snapped, stepping beside Eryx now.

The tension thickened, brittle and tight like ice underfoot. Only the rustling of leaves and the occasional sigh of wind filled the space where warmth should have been.

"You’re being unfair," Amara cut in, her voice louder now, laced with indignation. "Just because you’re all rich, you think you can shut us out. You’re denying our right to compensation."

"Unfair?" Eryx’s cold mask barely shifted as he let out a long, tired sigh. He didn’t want to do this here. Not at Mila’s funeral. She was supposed to be sent off in peace, with love, not in the middle of a money-grabbing circus. Still, when his eyes flicked to Lunara’s face and saw how pale and rattled she looked, something hardened in him.

"Fine," he said flatly. "Name your price."

Amara didn’t hesitate.

"Five million."

The number dropped like a bomb. Even the wind seemed to still.

Lunara’s breath hitched. Regina’s eyes widened, her lips parting in shock. Even Amara’s own parents shifted uncomfortably behind her, as if realizing too late that the line had been crossed.

Eryx didn’t react right away. His silence stretched thin and taut.

Then he said, almost too calmly, "Done. You’ll get it."

He took a step closer, his gaze like ice.

"But understand this..." his voice dropped to a lethal whisper, "you lost every right to Mila the day you received the money."

Amara’s expression twitched. She opened her mouth, and for a moment, it seemed she might actually thank him.

Instead, she mumbled under her breath, "Okay... she’s dead anyway."

Though the words were soft, they hit like a slap across the face. Everyone heard them.

The silence that followed was unbearable.

Regina took a step forward, her mouth opening in disbelief but someone else moved faster.

Amara barely had time to turn when her hair was yanked back so sharply her head jerked.

Not by Eryx.

Not by Regina.

Not even Lunara.

It was Naomi.

Her face was pale, trembling, not from fear, but from fury that had been buried beneath grief for far too long. Her fist clenched at her side, and her voice trembled as it rose.

"You!" Naomi’s voice cracked, but it didn’t stop her. "You are the one who is supposed to be dead!" She screamed her sorrow out, "Not her! Not Mila! You heartless... soulless witch!"

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