The Invisible Daughter (Yunice Saunders) novel Chapter 130

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Chapter 130 Stop Talking, Run!

190 S

Chapter 130 Stop Talking, Run!

Yunice muttered to herself, People these days really don’t care about the dead anymore.

She didn’t bother asking why Wyatt was there; it wasn’t not like he was going to fight her for her dad’s ashes.

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So she didn’t avoid him while digging. The surface slate had already been pried up, and now Yunice was shoveling through the soil beneath.

Wyatt sat nearby, just watching, not helping at all. “Digging up your dad’s grave? What a dutiful daughter.”

Yunice didn’t respond to the jab, focused entirely on digging.

After a moment, Wyatt added lazily, “He’s already dead. It’s just a pile of ashes. Is it really worth all this?”

Ashes were just inorganic dust–good for fertilizer maybe, but not much else.

“If someone can be controlled by a pile of dust, they were never going to amount to much anyway,” he scoffed.

Yunice kept working, unfazed by his ridicule.

People valued different things; it all came down to perspective.

Wyatt had clawed his

way to the top, didn’t even blink at death.

Yunice thought. How could he understand what it meant to hold onto ashes?

“I’m not being controlled by a pile of dust,” Yunice said. “I just want something to remember him by

“Real death doesn’t come when the heart stops or the breath ends,” she added. “It’s when no one remembers you anymore. I won’t forget my dad. The ashes are him. His belongings are him. That bracelet of agarwood beads on your wrist–that’s him too. Every object carries a memory of him and me. It matters.”

She paused, then added, “But… all that stuff is external. Even if I lost it, he wouldn’t blame me.”

Wyatt glanced down at the bracelet on his wrist and sneered. “Lost it? Then what happens to your precious memories?”

“How could they be gone?” Yunice looked up, calm and relaxed. “All I have to do is look in the mirror. The greatest gift my dad gave me is myself. As long as I take care of myself, those memories are still alive.”

Wyatt looked like her words caught him off guard. After a beat, he let out a dry, mocking chuckle.

Yunice was used to his smug, self–centered attitude. The urn wasn’t buried deep. When her shovel hit wood, she crouched down and started scooping dirt with her hands.

Wyatt still didn’t lift a finger.

The cemetery was dead quiet, except for the occasional buzz of insects from the forest. Yunice kept digging, then took a moment to glance over at him.

Wyatt was sitting on the grave next to her father’s, leaning back against the headstone. One long leg bent, foot resting on the stone path.

Moonlight fell sofily over him, casting a cool, lonely glow.

His sharply defined face was expressionless; his eyes drifted somewhere far away–or maybe he’d just zoned out completely.

He’s probably thinking about his mom. Yunice guessed.

After all, those two lines of sentimental nonsense she spouted earlier weren’t fooling anyone.

She said them on purpose–just loud enough for him to hear.

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12:20 PM

Chapter 130 Stop Talking, Run!

Wyatt had grown up with only his mother. There was no way he didn’t have feelings about her.

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The more open and affectionate she acted, the more likely he was to feel some kind of empathy–some subconscious emotional bond. It was all about planting the seed.

She thought smugly, raising her brows, Emotional anchoring. Wyatt might be good with his fists, but I doubt he has the brain for this kind of play.

With a sharp creak, Yunice pried open a corner of Will’s coffin with her crowbar.

The sound made Wyatt turn. He watched as she slipped a hand through the narrow gap and pulled out the urn.

Right then, several flashlight beams cut through the night sky in jerky, crisscrossing paths. Voices echoed faintly in the distance.

Someone was coming.

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