Chapter 35 The Funeral
The funeral for Richard Frost was held at the Portland Cathedral, with overflow seating in two adjacent chapels.
Over a thousand people came.
Politicians, business leaders, community organizers, people whose lives had been touched by Richard's philanthropy. They filled the massive space with their grief and their memories and their carefully crafted eulogies about a man they thought they knew.
Ariella stood beside Aiden in the front row, wearing a black dress that cost more than her family had ever spent on an entire wardrobe. She held his hand because he was shaking…had been shaking since they'd arrived and seen the sheer magnitude of this spectacle.
"It's too much," he whispered. "All these people. He would have hated this."
"Would he?"
"No. He would have loved it. The performance. The show." Aiden's voice was bitter. "He'd be taking notes on who came, who cried the most convincingly, who to leverage for future business deals."
"Aiden…"
"Sorry. I know I'm supposed to be grieving appropriately. Playing the bereaved son." His grip on her hand tightened. "But I'm just angry. So fucking angry."
Lily sat on his other side, small and silent in her black dress, holding a crumpled tissue. Fourteen years old and performing grief for a thousand strangers.
The service began.
A pastor who'd never met Richard gave a sermon about legacy and love. A business partner told stories that made Richard sound like a saint. A community organizer talked about the after-school programs he'd funded, the scholarships he'd created, the lives he'd changed.
All of it was true.
All of it was also incomplete.
Because the Richard Frost they were eulogizing, generous philanthropist, loving father, pillar of the community, had also been a manipulative liar who'd used this children as weapons in a revenge plot.
Both versions were real. And that was what made this impossible.
When it was Aiden's turn to speak, he stood slowly, like his body was made of lead.
Ariella watched him walk to the podium. Watched him grip the edges like they were the only things keeping him upright. Watched him look out at the sea of faces and visibly struggle to find words.
"My father," he began, voice cracking immediately, "was a complicated man."
The crowd shifted uncomfortably. This wasn't the script. This wasn't the sanitized eulogy they expected.
"He loved us. My mother, me, Lily. He loved us fiercely. Obsessively. In ways that both protected and suffocated us." Aiden paused. "When my mother died, something in him broke. He spent the rest of his life trying to fix that break by controlling everything around him. Including me."
Marcus stood up in the back, looking concerned. But Aiden kept going.
"The last thing my father said to me was about legacy. About responsibility. About doing what needed to be done even when it hurt." His voice was shaking now. "And I'm standing here, eighteen years old, trying to figure out what that means. Trying to decide if his legacy is worth inheriting."
The cathedral was dead silent.
"I don't have answers. I don't know if I can be what he wanted me to be. I don't know if I even want to be." Aiden looked directly at Lily. "But I do know this: I won't make the mistakes he made. I won't use love as a weapon. I won't manipulate the people I care about for their own good. I won't…"
His voice broke completely.
Ariella stood without thinking. Walked to the podium. Took his hand.
The crowd gasped, this wasn't protocol, wasn't proper, wasn't done.
But Ariella didn't care.
She took the microphone. "Richard Frost was my father-in-law for exactly three weeks. I didn't know him well. But I know what he did for my family. For me." Her voice was steady even though her hand was shaking. "He saved us. When we were about to lose everything, he offered us a way out. And yes, there were strings attached. Yes, there were manipulations. But there was also generosity. Complicated, conditional generosity. But generosity nonetheless."
She looked at Aiden. "He loved his children in the only way he knew how. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't even always good. But it was real. And I think….I hope, he died believing he'd protected them."
"Even if protecting them meant hurting them," Aiden added quietly, back at the microphone.
"Even then."
They stood there together, two teenagers trying to eulogize a man who'd shaped their lives in ways they were still discovering.
Finally, Aiden said: "Thank you all for coming. For honoring my father. For…" He stopped. "For caring about the version of him that existed outside our home. That person, the philanthropist, the community leader, he was real too. And he mattered."
They walked back to their seats holding hands.
The service continued, but Ariella couldn't focus. She just held Aiden's hand and tried not to cry and wondered how you were supposed to grieve someone who'd hurt you while trying to love you.
The burial was private.
Just Aiden, Lily, Ariella, Marcus, and a handful of Richard's closest friends. They stood in the same cemetery where Catherine was buried, where Aiden had his panic attacks every Wednesday, where his parents would now rest side by side.
The priest said words about ashes and dust. About resurrection and eternal life. About love transcending death.
Lily cried silently. Aiden stared at the casket with an unreadable expression. Ariella stood between them, anchoring them both.
When it was time to leave, Lily couldn't move.
"I don't want to leave him here," she whispered. "I don't want him to be alone."
"He's not alone," Aiden said gently. "Mom's here. They're together."
"But we're leaving them. Both of them. And they'll just be…" Lily dissolved into sobs.
Aiden held her. "We can come back. Every week. As much as you need. They're not going anywhere."
"It's not the same."
"No. But it's what we have."
They stayed until the sun started setting. Until the cemetery workers politely indicated they needed to close up. Until there was no more avoiding the fact that their parents were dead and buried and beyond reach.
Marcus drove them home in silence.
The mansion felt different when they entered. Emptier. Like Richard's absence had created a vacuum that nothing would ever fill.
"I'm going to bed," Lily announced, even though it was only seven p.m. "I can't…I just need to be alone."
She disappeared upstairs.