Chapter 100: 100. The Funeral

Alina's Pov

"How... when?"

Theodore takes a step closer, his expression softening as he reaches for my hand again. "Earlier today," he says gently. "I'm so sorry, Alina."

I feel a strange numbness wash over me, a mix of shock and disbelief. "I... I don't know what to say," I stammer, my voice breaking.

"It's okay," Theodore murmurs, pulling me into a comforting embrace. "Take your time."

I cling to him, the weight of the news pressing down on me. The room fades into the background as I try to process the reality of my father's death, feeling Theodore's steady presence grounding me in the midst of my turmoil.

I stand there, wrapped in Theodore's embrace, but all I feel is a strange, unsettling numbness. No sadness, no remorse, just a void where my emotions should be. The news echoes in my mind, but it feels distant, as if it's happening to someone else.

I pull back slightly, looking up at Theodore. "I don't... I don't feel anything," I confess, my voice barely above a whisper. "I thought I'd be sad, or something, but... I'm just numb."

Theodore looks at me with understanding eyes, his hand gently rubbing my back. "It's okay to feel that way, Alina."

I nod, but my thoughts are elsewhere. Memories of my father flash before me—not the warm, loving memories one might expect, but moments of neglect, disappointment, and hurt. He was always so distant, so unfair. He never had time for me, always wrapped up in his own world, leaving me to fend for myself.

"I was never on good terms with him," I say, my voice shaking with the weight of those memories. "He was always so... difficult. He never made time for me. Always problematic."

Theodore's hand stills on my back, and he pulls me closer. "I remember," he says softly. "You've told me before."

A thought strikes me, and I pull back again, meeting Theodore's gaze. "The prison officer... he called me yesterday. Wanted me to meet my father." My voice grows fainter as I recall the conversation. Was that why he wanted to see me? To say goodbye?

Theodore's eyes soften further, and he nods slowly as he says gently. "Maybe he wanted to make amends in some way."

I take a deep, shaky breath, trying to wrap my mind around it all. "But why now? Why after all this time?"

Theodore sighs, his arms tightening around me. "People change, Alina. Sometimes it takes something drastic for them to realize what's important. Maybe he finally understood how much he hurt you and wanted to make things right."

I close my eyes, letting his words sink in. It's hard to imagine my father as a man seeking redemption, but perhaps that's what he was trying to do. Maybe he wanted to find some peace before the end.

"I don't know if I can forgive him," I whisper, tears pricking at my eyes now, not for the loss, but for the years of pain and missed opportunities.

"You don't have to," Theodore says softly. "Forgiveness is for you, not for him. Take your time to process this. There's no right or wrong way to feel."

Theodore's Pov

The chapel was small but tastefully decorated, as befitting the funeral of a man like Roosevelt, Alina's father. As I stood at the back, watching the somber proceedings, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions. Hatred, yes—Roosevelt had been a thorn in my side for years, both in business and personal matters. But also, a grudging sense of gratitude. Because of him, I found Alina. If it hadn't been for that bastard, I would have never found my woman to begin with.

I had arranged the funeral, ensuring every detail was handled by the best professionals money could buy. I wanted it to be a proper send-off, not for Roosevelt's sake, but for Alina's. She deserved closure, even if it came from the man who had caused her so much pain.

I spot Alina standing near the front, her face a mask of barely contained emotions. Thea and Elliot were also present. As the service progresses, she starts to tremble. I make my way to her side, taking her hand in mine. She looks up at me, her eyes filled with a mix of anger and frustration.

"Theodore, I can't do this," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion.

"You don't have to do it alone," I reassure her, squeezing her hand gently. "I'm here with you."

The eulogies begin, and I could see the struggle in Alina's eyes as she listens. She had so many unresolved feelings about her father. He had been more than just a neglectful parent; he had been a business rival who had signed her over to me as part of a deal. It was a move that eventually led to the greatest love of my life.

As the casket is lowered into the ground, Alina's composure finally cracks. She starts to cry, but it's not the tears of sorrow—it's anger, frustration, and bitterness.

"He never even apologized," she chokes out, her voice filled with rage. "All the pain he caused... and he never once said he was sorry."

I pull her into a tight embrace, letting her vent her feelings. "You have every right to be angry," I tell her softly. "He hurt you in ways that can never be undone. But it's okay to feel that way."

She sobs against my chest, her body shaking with the intensity of her emotions. "Maybe it's my fault too," she says between sobs. "Maybe if I'd gone to see him when he asked, things would have been different."

I stroke her hair, holding her close. "You can't blame yourself for his actions, Alina. You did what you needed to do to protect yourself."

When the service is over, I lead her to the car. She's exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Once we're inside, I reach into my jacket and pull out a letter. The officer from the prison had given it to me earlier.

"Alina," I say gently, "your father left this for you."

She looks at the letter, her eyes wide with surprise and trepidation. "What is it?"

"A letter," I explained. "He wanted you to have it."

She takes the letter from me, her hands trembling. "Why didn't you give this to me earlier?"

"I didn't want to overwhelm you," I admit. "But I think you should read it now."

She nods, opening the envelope with shaky fingers. As she reads, I watch her face, trying to gauge her reaction. Her expression shifts from anger to confusion to something that looks almost like relief.

When she finishes, she looks up at me, tears streaming down her face.