Burn Me Once Burn With Me (Ruby Grayson) novel Chapter 459

A flicker of doubt crossed her eyes.

The attic was almost never used; even she rarely came up here.

She hurried to the wardrobe and pulled the doors open. Her wedding dress hung untouched inside, and she let out a long sigh of relief.

Thank God.

If Hanley had dared to sell this dress too, she would have lost it—she’d fight him tooth and nail.

Thankfully, he at least understood how much this dress meant to her and had left it alone.

A tiny wave of comfort washed through Frieda.

She gazed at the pristine, sweeping gown, emotions swirling within her—nostalgia, regret, longing all tangled together.

Gennifer’s eyes widened as she watched Frieda open the wardrobe.

No wonder Dad couldn’t stop praising this dress when he first saw it—it was breathtakingly expensive.

Even though the attic’s lighting was dimmer than downstairs, the tiny crystals sewn into the gown caught every bit of light, making it shimmer brilliantly.

“Send this dress out for me. I’ll give you the address in a bit.”

Frieda stroked the fabric gently.

She’d once slipped it on, heart pounding with excitement, but she’d never actually walked down the aisle in it. She’d never had the wedding she’d once imagined.

Her gaze lingered, unwilling to let go.

Gennifer’s voice broke the silence, anxious and incredulous. “Mom, you’re sending this dress away? It’s so expensive and beautiful…”

Dad said it was worth thirty million—sending it off was like handing a fortune to someone else.

She looked at Frieda, hoping for some sign of hesitation, but Frieda’s expression was tranquil, as if she were lost in an old, bittersweet memory.

“Yes. Send it.”

Frieda finally looked away, shutting the wardrobe doors with crisp finality.

She turned to Gennifer, her tone unyielding. “Do as I say. There’s no need to discuss it with your father.”

Gennifer stood frozen, her face a study in frustration. “But… Mom, something this valuable, shouldn’t we at least talk to Dad first?”

“No.”

Frieda shook her head, eyes shining with a strange clarity. “Just do as I told you. No need for him to be involved.”

With that, she strode out of the attic—no longer the weary woman who’d climbed up, but someone younger, revitalized, almost brimming with determination.

Gennifer watched her mother go, then glanced back at the closed wardrobe, her reluctance plain.

No. She had to tell Dad about this.

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