Page 24 of The Millionaire Mortician

T he day I had at work had me dead to the world. I was stretched across the bed in a heavy sleep for once. The night I kicked Daija’s ass out, I didn’t get any sleep. Then the following day, I drowned myself in work to distract myself from doing something stupid.

Out of nowhere, there was a loud banging on my front door, snatching me out of my sleep. At the same time, my security alarm wailed through the house, and my phone started to notify me that someone was on my property.

I shot up quickly and reached for my phone on the nightstand. Moving swiftly, I clicked on the camera app and saw that it was the police at the door.

What the fuck?

Two uniform cops stood stiffly at the door.

Observing the street view, I saw it wasn’t a full team.

There were no SWAT, no vans, or dogs. It was just the two of them.

My nerves settled a notch. If they had come for me, it wouldn’t have been that quiet.

Still, I wasn’t about to take chances. I hit Mav’s line right away.

He answered on the second ring. “Yo.”

“Twelve’s at my door,” I informed him.

“I’m on my way,” he stated with no hesitation. The line went dead right after.

I slid out of bed, threw on my sweats that I had hanging on my chair, and then headed downstairs. Each step felt slower than the last. At the door, I paused, exhaled once, then unlocked it.

The two officers stood there. One was older, while the other was younger. Their eyes flicked over me like they knew exactly who I was.

“Milan Marcano?” the older one asked.

“Yes.” My voice came out steady, but inside, something twisted tight.

He nodded, then cleared his throat. “Do you know a Daija Hill?”

Her name cut through me like a blade. My chest tightened as my breath got caught. I swallowed, then forced myself to answer. “Yeah. Why?”

The younger cop shifted his weight with his eyes softer now. “Sir, there’s been an accident on the FDR Drive. Ms. Hill’s car went airborne into the water.”

My knees went weak before his words were even finished.

The older one went on to explain slowly. “We haven’t found a body yet. Search and rescue is still in progress.”

The floor seemed to tilt under me. My hands braced against the frame, as my knuckles became white from how tight I was gripping it.

Images rushed through my head almost instantly — her laugh, her smile, her damn stubbornness.

The last time I saw her, she wasn’t the woman I had met some time ago or the woman I had fallen in love with.

She was a cold, cheating bitch, but yet, I was feeling some kind of way about the news.

Headlights flashed across the street, then tires screeched as Maverick pulled up. He had barely parked before he was at my side.

“What’s going on?” he demanded, eyes snapping to the cops.

The older officer repeated everything, but slower this time, as if he knew Mav was the steadier one at that moment.

With a sudden rush of adrenaline, I felt my body sway, my weight being too heavy. Mav caught me before I could hit the ground. “I got you, bro,” he muttered, holding me up while the cops stood there. Their voices were just background noise at that point.

For the first time since seeing our parents lying dead in a burning truck, I felt helpless and lost. I was experiencing a mix of emotions. The shit wasn’t even funny. The fucked-up part was that my last words to her would literally be the last words she heard from me.

Maverick barely gave me time to catch my breath before he was dragging me toward his car.

Before I knew it, we were speeding through Brooklyn, as the city lights became nothing but a blur through the windshield.

Mav drove like a madman with his horn blasting, cutting through lanes.

His jaw was locked, his eyes hard, but his hand kept hitting my shoulder every couple of minutes as if he were making sure I was still present.

By the time we hit the FDR, the whole stretch was chaos, although it was going on eleven o’clock at night.

Patrol cars were lined up along the side, their lights flashing red and blue against the dark water.

There were fire trucks, ambulances, and news vans already setting up. My chest tightened at the entire scene.

Mav parked further down since it was so many emergency vehicles near the accident.

We jumped out and made our way toward the commotion.

We pushed past the tape, with Mav leading the way.

He had that authority in his step that dared anyone to stop him.

A sergeant came forward and tried to block us, but I cut him off.

“I’m the next of kin.”

Technically, I was, although we had just broken up the night before. Daija had me as her emergency contact with everything, which was clearly the reason they showed up at my doorstep.

He hesitated for a moment, then stepped aside.

The scene hit me like a gut punch. Daija’s car, or what was left of it, was being pulled out with water pouring out the windows.

The glass all around was shattered, and the metal was twisted like a toy.

Divers in black wetsuits still moved through the current with their flashlights cutting beams under the surface.

I stood there, gripping the railing so hard my knuckles burned. My heart pounded loudly in my ears, drowning out the noise of engines, radios, and shouts.

Mav leaned in close. “They ain’t found nobody yet. Hold it down, bro,” he encouraged.

I wanted to be hopeful, of course, but after seeing the car and looking at the time the accident happened, the chances were becoming more and more slim of finding her alive as time went by.

My mind kept replaying her face, her laugh, and then the last fight of her begging me to listen, but I was too cold to care.

A paramedic walked by, shaking her head at another officer. “Still no sign,” she whispered, not realizing I could hear.

“You sure you wanna stay here?” Maverick asked.

I nodded. “Yeah,” I simply answered.

So I waited. My stomach twisted with every passing minute, and we didn’t receive any news.

I’d faced death before in different forms. I embalmed, buried, and profited off it. But standing on that highway, staring down into black water that might’ve swallowed the woman I loved, was a different kind of terror.

A Week Later...

I sat alone in my office at the funeral home, staring into space. My mind was so discombobulated, I couldn’t finish a completed thought. Everything just bounced all over the place.

The days dragged after the accident, each one heavier than the last. Search and rescue turned into recovery, and recovery turned into nothing at all.

There was no body, or no clothes, not one trace.

By the third day, the city coroner’s office put it in writing— presumed deceased, lost at sea.

That line hit harder than a bullet. The word presumed didn’t sit well with me.

It was as if she were gone, but not confirmed, making it, in a way, I had to accept it without seeing it.

Once things were official on paper, I stayed in the house with my blinds drawn and the phone buzzing nonstop, but I never answered.

Mav came through a few times and tried to pull me into conversations about business, about Frost, about anything but Daija.

I brushed him off, though. I couldn’t focus on any of that shit.

The only person who got me to listen for a little while was Talina. She came by to let me know Daija’s aunt wanted to do a memorial service and of course wanted me to do it. I wasn’t in the right state of mind for that, so I linked her and Parys to sort out the details on my dime.

A knock on the door broke my thoughts. It opened before I could even answer. Daija’s aunt stepped in, dressed in black, with her face lined with grief.

“Milan,” she spoke low. “I just wanted to say thank you for handling everything, and for taking care of her.”

I nodded with my jaw tight because what else could I have done?

Thank her for thanking me, knowing damn well I wasn’t the man she thought I was in the end?

Inside, guilt ate at me like acid. I wanted to tell her I failed Daija, that I pushed her out when she properly needed me most. But the words stayed locked in my throat.

She gently touched my arm, offering a soft smile. “God is with you,” she stated, before leaving the office.

As she walked in, in walked Parys. “Boss, it’s time.”

I looked at him and nodded. Standing to my feet, I fixed my suit, then made my way to the chapel.

When I walked in, the place was packed. I saw Daija’s friends, family, and a bunch of her clients. She was definitely loved. My team lined the back of the walls and at every entrance. Maverick sat in the front row in the last seat. It felt good to know my people were around for me.

I sat in the front row, staring at her picture. My hands were clasped tight, as I kept my face calm, but inside, I was unraveling.

Overall, the service was sweet and simple, just as Daija would’ve wanted.

Roses lined the front. Her picture was blown up on an easel, her smile caught forever in a frame.

Voices cracked through prayers, while friends spoke about her laughter, her fire, and her ambition.

Every word felt like it was spoken through me, not just about her.

When it ended, people hugged, cried, and filed out into the hallway as they prepared to attend the repast.

As I was making my way down the hall to return to my office, Frost appeared in my direct view. He wore an all-black suit, and his eyes were colder than the steel he carried on him. Our eyes locked on each other, cutting through the crowd without hesitation.

We stood toe to toe. “You killed her, didn’t you?” he asked, but also assumed at the same time.

My jaw clenched. “What? You are out of your fuckin’ mind, nigga?” My voice rumbled low, but dangerously.

“You think I don’t know your MO?” Frost stepped closer, close enough to smell his cologne. “Bodies disappear around you. They don’t get found. They get burned, just like her. That’s why she’s gone without a trace.”

My fists balled at my sides. “I ain’t have shit to do with her death. Watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

My team, which was initially posted at the back, shifted forward in sync. Maverick quickly stepped to my side, his hand brushing the edge of his jacket like he was seconds away from pulling.

I glared at Frost, fury shaking inside me. “You’re a wild nigga to stand here and accuse me of something like that.”

He smirked, but his eyes stayed cold. “You had every reason to off her. She cheated on you.” He shrugged.

“So, that ain’t enough for me to take her life,” I simply stated.

He shook his head and smirked. “And she was pregnant.”

Those words sliced through me like glass.

“The crazy shit is, she ain’t even know who the baby’s father was,” Frost added, twisting the knife. “Me or you?” He paused as I took it all in. “And now she’s gone. Real convenient, huh?”

Just when I thought my world had crumbled enough, he hit me with the craziest revelation.

Pregnant? Was it mine?