Once Cast-Off Wife Now Untouchable Queen novel Chapter 382

Chapter 382 His Death

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Miriam reached for Aella’s hand, but the instant her fingers touched it, she froze. Aella’s hand was cold and stiff, her knuckles white, her fingers trembling like a leaf barely holding on before the wind could take it.

Miriam’s voice shook with fear. “Aella, talk to me. What happened?”

Aella stared at her parents. Her lips parted, but no words came. It was as if her throat had forgotten how to work.

Her parents exchanged anxious glances, panic starting to settle in.

Warren’s tone sharpened. “Enough of this silence. Tell us what’s going on, or I’m calling Daniel right now.”

He reached into his pocket, already pulling out his phone.

Aella quickly caught his wrist. “Dad, please don’t. I’m fine.”

Her voice trembled as she forced the words out. “It’s Tyrone. He’s dead.”

The words hung in the air like thunder before a storm.

Her

parents went still. They stared at her, both shaking their heads. “That’s impossible.”

Aella said, “He had a heart attack at home last night. They took him to the hospital, but… they couldn’t bring him back.”

Warren turned away sharply. His shoulders slumped as he let out a deep, hollow sigh that filled the room.

Miriam’s eyes welled up

almost instantly.

Aella’s chest ached as she looked at them.

Tyrone had hurt her more times than she could count, but he had grown up right under their roof. He had once been like family. Losing him broke them too.

But she could never keep that a secret from them.

She tried to comfort them, but her words came out quiet and shaky. When they didn’t respond, she turned and locked herself in her room.

By noon, Sayer came by.

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Miriam told him that Aella had been shut in her room all morning and hadn’t spoken to

anyone.

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Clyde hesitated, his voice small. “On Thanksgiving, I saw him cough up blood. It looked bad. He told me not to tell Aella. He said he was sorry.”

Sayer dragged a hand down his face, his jaw tight. “Great. Just great. Now Aella’s birthday and Tyrone’s death will fall on the same day. What a damn gift he left her.”

No one spoke after that. The room was heavy with silence and grief.

Aella’s twenty–seventh birthday had become Tyrone’s death day. No one could have seen it coming.

Inside her room, Aella stood in front of the mirror in a plain white dress.

She listened to their voices outside, her expression unreadable, but her eyes shimmered with quiet pain.

Tyrone had lied to her twice. The first time, he pretended he was on a business trip when he was actually taking care of Zera.

The second was on Thanksgiving, when he swore he wasn’t sick.

She turned the handle and stepped out, her movements slow and composed.

Her tone was flat, almost emotionless. “It’s too stuffy in here. I’m going out.”

Everyone looked at her but said nothing. Their concern hung in the air, but no one dared stop her.

As soon as she left, Miriam whispered, “It’s cold out. Clyde, grab a jacket and go sister.”

with your

Sayer pulled a thin blanket off the couch and tossed it over his arm before tugging Clyde along.

Aella walked down the street outside the gate, her steps heavy and unhurried.

November in Vleka was quiet and gray. The cold air bit at her skin, sharp and merciless, filling her lungs with the taste of winter.

The whole city seemed wrapped in silence, the kind that pressed against the chest and made breathing feel heavier.

The chill seeped through her coat, dulling everything–her thoughts, her senses, her will.

She didn’t know how long she’d been walking. When she finally looked up, she was standing in

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front of the old Reid house.

Through the iron gate, she saw that the yard was still tidy. Someone had been taking care of it.

The swing in the corner looked freshly painted, the wood smooth and gleaming under the weak light.

Aella froze, her breath catching in her chest. The scene before her blurred as old memories clawed their way back.

She saw herself as a little girl, sitting on that swing, laughing so hard her cheeks hurt. Tyrone was behind her, wearing a white shirt, his sleeves rolled up as he pushed her higher and higher.

She could almost hear her younger voice echoing through the air. “Higher, Tyrone! Push me higher!”

He laughed behind her, his voice soft. One hand gripped the swing while the other hovered in the air, ready to catch her if she slipped.

Aella blinked away the tears gathering in her eyes. She turned and kept walking.

When her legs started to ache, she stopped for a moment, then moved again, one step after another.

By afternoon, the city around her was alive with noise. Cars rushed past, horns blaring, lights flashing, but she didn’t notice any of it.

She stopped beside an old tree, resting her palm against the rough bark.

Years ago, this neighborhood had been filled with old houses and small gardens before the city tore it all down.

After her family lost everything, her parents had moved here with her and Clyde. They’d stayed for years.

Life back then had been cold and harsh. People looked at them with pity, some with disgust. Only a few had stood by them.

Beatrice, her grandmother’s closest friend. Virginia.

And then Brad, Raine, and Tyrone–the ones who had grown up beside her, who had known her before the world turned cruel.

They were the ones who made those

years bearable.

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She remembered those nights after their engagement was announced. Tyrone would come find her almost every night.

They’d hide behind this tree, whispering, holding each other like the world didn’t exist beyond it. Sometimes, when he couldn’t hold back, he’d pull her close and kiss her until she melted in

his arms.

Sometimes he’d carry her into his car, but most nights, he’d take her home after hours of quiet moments that felt like eternity.

He hadn’t truly loved her, not the way she loved him. But back then, everyone thought they were perfect together. They looked like a dream, even if it was only an illusion.

By the time the sun set, the streets near her old school were covered in gold and brown leaves. Her shoes brushed through them with a faint sound as she walked.

She stopped to watch a young couple on the sidewalk, their voices rising as they argued, their faces flushed with love and anger. It was messy, human, alive.

Night crept over the city.

Aella wandered into the heart of downtown, where neon lights flickered and the smell of food filled the air.

She stopped at a small street stall that sold pasta and ordered a plate.

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