The mournful toll of the church bell echoed through the small village, a familiar, grating sound that pulled Aella from her morbid reverie. It was a sound she'd come to associate with misery, a harsh reminder of her mother's oppressive grip. Today, it chimed for Mary herself, finally silenced in death.

Mrs. Agatha's dramatic wails cut through the solemnity, a performance Aella watched with cynical amusement. "Mary loved and was loved by all," Pastor Jerimiah's voice droned, a litany of praises for a woman Aella couldn't mourn.

Her scars began to itch, ghost whispers of the pain Mary’s words inflicted. Aella’s fingers picked at a loose thread on her black gown, a small, desperate act to ground herself. The endless condolences and fake tears of the villagers were a torment, only intensifying her relief that her tormentor was gone.

Grace, Mary's lawyer, approached, her perfect composure almost infuriating. "Aella, I need to speak to you." Aella braced herself, a new chapter of her life, unwritten and terrifyingly free, was about to begin.