Camilla's POV
Tom's voice sliced through the funeral home like a blade, each word calculated to wound. "I suggest you pick up those papers and sign them today. From this moment forward, we're done. There's no reason for me to maintain any contact with you. I only kept your number because of Joy, but since she's gone, I never want to see your face again."
His words crashed into me with the force of a wrecking ball. My lungs seized, forgetting how to draw breath. My hands clenched into fists at my sides as I stared at the polished floor, unable to meet his gaze. The coldness in his tone told me this wasn't just rage talking. Every syllable was deliberate, final.
The silence that followed felt suffocating. I could sense every pair of eyes in the room focused on us, drinking in our private devastation like it was entertainment. The other mourners had abandoned any pretense of politeness, openly staring at the drama unfolding before them.
