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“Did they leave any instructions?”I ask, my hands gripping the warm mug tightly.

“They did,” Bridget says gently.“Your father wanted something small and private.For family and close friends.Nothing public.”

Ruairi nods.“I’ll handle everything.”

I shake my head, sitting up straighter.“No.I want to help.I need to.”

“Can you give us a minute?”Ruairi asks.“I need to speak with Aoife alone.”

Bridget glances at me, her expression softening with understanding.“Of course.It’s time for Saoirse to go to bed anyway.”She presses a gentle kiss to my cheek and whispers, “Let me know if you need anything.”

I nod silently and watch as she heads upstairs, her voice low as she soothes the baby.

When the sound of her footsteps fades, Ruairi leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his face set in the grim determination I know too well.

His jaw tightens as he pins me with a look that’s both protective and unyielding.“This isn’t something you need to carry, Aoife.As the head of the family, this is my role now.”

“Head of the family?”I echo, my voice sharper than I intend.“I’m part of this family too, Ruairi.”

“You are,” he agrees, his voice steady but firm.“But it’s not the same, and you know it.Da would’ve wanted me to handle this.Alone.”

I scoff, my frustration bubbling to the surface.“Da wouldn’t have wanted you to shut me out.He?—”

“He wouldn’t have wanted you dragged into this,” Ruairi interrupts.“He spent his entire life keeping you away from the mess.I’m not about to change that now.”His tone is edged with finality.

His words hit like a slap, and for a moment, I’m too stunned to respond.

“This isn’t just about the Syndicate,” he continues, his voice softer now but no less resolute.“This is about family.About doing what Da and Mam would’ve expected of me.Let me do this for them.For us.”

The room falls silent.I know he’s trying to protect me, just like he always has, but it doesn’t make it any easier to accept.

Finally, I exhale shakily and nod, the fight draining out of me.“Fine,” I say quietly.“But after the funeral, we’re revisiting my place in the family.This conversation isn’t over.”

His expression hardens, his frustration evident, but then it softens just slightly.He nods once.“We’ll talk,” he says, though his tone makes it clear he doesn’t plan to budge.

The funeral is held three days later.True to my father’s wishes, it’s a small, private gathering with only family and a few trusted associates from the Syndicate.The chapel is quiet, its stone walls and vaulted ceilings casting long shadows in the flickering candlelight.

I sit in the front pew, my hands clasped tightly in my lap.Ruairi is beside me, his jaw set in a way that’s both protective and unreadable.Bridget sits on his other side, Saoirse in her lap, mercifully quiet as if even she can sense the gravity of the moment.

The priest speaks in soft, measured tones, his voice echoing faintly through the chapel as he talks about the importance of family, legacy, and love.But the words fade into the background as my focus drifts to the polished mahogany caskets at the front of the room, each adorned with a spray of white lilies and roses.

This is it.The final goodbye.

For a fleeting moment, my thoughts drift to Eamon.I picture him here beside me, his presence steady and unwavering in a way that could make this unbearable moment feel just a little less heavy.

But he’s not here.He can’t be.And even if he were, he’d never belong in this world.Myworld.

The ache sharpens as I push the thought aside, forcing myself to focus on the present.This isn’t about what I want or what I wish.It’s about honoring them.

When the service ends, we move outside to the small graveyard behind the chapel.The air is crisp, the kind of biting cold that turns your breath into visible clouds.I wrap my coat tighter around me, but it does little to shield me from the chill seeping into my bones.

As the caskets are lowered into the ground, the priest says a final prayer.I bow my head, my tears spilling silently down my cheeks.

“They loved you, you know,” Ruairi says softly beside me.

I glance at him, his face pale against the black of his coat.“I know,” I whisper, though it doesn’t make the loss any easier.

When the burial is complete, Ruairi steps forward, his hand shaking as he drops a single white rose onto each casket.Bridget follows, her movements steady.