Chapter 41 40
Darius’ POV
“I'd like to see her face.” I said.
The nurse nodded and pulled the drawer open. A sheet of white fabric covered the body. Slowly, she folded it back, revealing the face. Indeed, it was Aunt Ronnie. She was pale and still, like all the warmth had been drained from her.
For a moment, I couldn’t move. I forced myself to swallow. “And her belongings?”
“They’re in the drawer,” the nurse said. She opened a small compartment beneath the tray, pulling out a clear plastic bag. Inside were her phone, a small purse, a watch, and a folded scarf.
It seemed like she must've just left the house for a short walk.
I nodded. “Thank you,” I said quietly. She gave a polite nod and stepped aside. Sam and I turned, walking back through the cold corridors, neither of us saying much until we were outside again.
We ended up at a small café not far from the hospital. It was quiet, almost empty, the kind of place I liked, when I needed to think. We picked a table near the window, still trying to process everything that had just happened.
We’d already asked for the autopsy report, but the doctor said it would take a little while to prepare. So, we decided to wait.
“Aunt Ronnie’s dead,” he said softly, almost as if saying it out loud would make it real. “For real.”
I glanced at him. The pain in his eyes was obvious. He had always been close to her. She’d been like a second mother to both of us, kind and always smiling.
“Yeah,” I said quietly, watching the steam curl up from my cup. “I know.”
Sam sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “She was such a good woman, Darius. Always looking out for everyone else. I still can’t believe it.”
I looked down at the table. “We’ll just have to see what the autopsy report says,” I said. “If something feels off after that…” I paused, meeting his gaze. “We’ll find out the truth eventually.”
Sam nodded slowly. "Ah," he exhaled, “sometimes I just want to go on a freaking vacation with Kim. Just… disappear for a while. Forget all these troubles.”
I glanced at him, then looked away. I couldn’t even remember the last time I thought about resting or relaxing. My mind has been a constant battlefield for months now, filled with revenge, anger, plans, loss. Nothing else.
But lately… lately, something had started to change. I thought of Soraya. The way she smiled when she was flustered, how her laughter made the world seem much better. The thought alone made me smile subconsciously. I shook my head at myself.
“Dude, what are you smiling at?” Sam asked.
“Nothing,” I muttered, taking a sip from my cup.
A few hours passed quickly. Sam scrolled through his phone while I just sat there, lost in my thoughts.
Then my phone began to ring, vibrating against the table. I looked at the screen. Dr. Reynolds.
Finally.
I picked it up. “Hello?”
“Mr. Dovenia,” came the doctor’s voice. “The autopsy report for Ms. Ronnie Dues is ready. If you’re still in the area, you can stop by my office to pick it up.”
“I’ll be there,” I said.
The call ended.
I put the phone in my pocket. “That was Dr. Reynolds. The report’s ready.”
Sam straightened. “Alright. Let’s go, then.”
We arrived at Dr. Reynolds’ office and Sam and I took our seats across from his desk. He looked up from a stack of papers.
“The post-mortem reports are ready,” he said, adjusting his glasses.
He reached into a file folder and pulled out a neatly sealed envelope, sliding it toward me. “Mr. Dovenia, the pathology department sent this over. It’s the full autopsy report on Ronnie Dues.”
He hesitated for a moment before continuing, “I’m… sorry for your loss. I don’t want to speak for the pathologists, but the report confirms an acute myocardial infarction.”
I took the envelope from him. The seal cracked softly as I opened it. Inside, the papers were crisp, had an official letterhead, stamped and signed. The hospital’s logo.
I exhaled slowly. “Thank you,” I murmured.
Dr. Reynolds gave a brief nod before turning his gaze to the monitor beside him.
Sam leaned over as I flipped through the pages. “What does it say?”
I scanned the lines, my eyes tracing the clinical words that spelled out: Cause of death — acute myocardial infarction.
Manner of death — natural.
There were additional notes about minor bruising, no foreign substances detected in the stomach, blood alcohol level normal.
Sam rubbed a hand down his face, leaning back in his chair.
Back at the office, Sam and I decided to just continue with work. I sat at my desk, typing something on my system, trying to drown my thoughts in numbers and words that meant nothing at the moment.
I glanced at my phone. 5:10 p.m.
My brows furrowed. Soraya hadn’t called me yet. I had asked her to call once classes were over, and I hadn’t gotten the chance to reach out myself either.
I frowned harder, picking up my phone. Maybe she was just caught up in something. I dialed her number.
The number you have dialed is switched off.
My stomach tightened. I tried again. Same thing.
“What’s with that frown on your face?” Sam asked, walking into the office, he was probably done for the day.
“Soraya…”.
“Right,” Sam said slowly. “It’s past class hours, isn’t it? You haven’t gone to pick her up yet?”
“I told her to call me when she was done,” I said. “She hasn’t called, and her phone’s switched off.”
“Switched off?” Sam walked closer. “That’s odd.”
I suddenly felt a rush of unease crawl through me.
Sam walked closer. “Let me try calling her. Maybe it’s just bad reception or something.”
I gave him her number. He dialed it.
“Well?” I asked, growing impatient.
He shook his head. “Switched off.”
“Damn it.” I pushed back my chair. “I’m going to the school.”
Sam grabbed his jacket. “Wait. I’m coming with you.”
I drove the car with speed, feeling so restless I could barely think.
I grabbed my phone and scrolled quickly through my contacts. Then I called Mr. Elvis.
He picked up almost immediately. “Hello, Mr. Doveni—”
“Are classes still going on?” I cut in.
There was a brief pause. “Uh, no, classes are over. Unless you mean the evening extra classes, but that’s just for the final year students.”
I clenched my teeth. “Damn it. Soraya’s class is over, then.” I forced a breath. “Could you tell her I’m coming to pick her up?”
“Sir… Soraya is no longer at the school.”
My heart skipped. “What?”
“She’s no longer at the school,” he repeated carefully. “your driver came to pick her up.”
“My what?” I repeated, gripping the phone tighter.
“Your driver, sir,” Mr. Elvis said again, a hint of confusion in his voice. “She told me your driver said he was here to pick her up… and so she left.”
My heart stopped for a second, then skipped a beat.
“What the heck?” I growled under my breath, my hand slamming against the steering wheel.
“Darius, you’re driving!” Sam snapped, grabbing the dashboard as the car swerved slightly.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to steady the wheel. “I’m coming there now!” I barked into the phone and hung up, almost tossing it onto the seat beside me.
“What is it?” Sam asked.
“Mr. Elvis said Soraya received a call that the driver came to pick her up.”
Sam frowned deeply. “What? That’s not possible. The driver’s out of town.”