Genevieve's POV
I stood before Violet's moonstone tombstone, the sunlight catching its iridescent surface and casting blue reflections across my aged hands. My heart felt impossibly heavy, as if the weight of this buried truth might collapse my chest from within.
"My poor, sweet great-granddaughter," I whispered, tracing her name with trembling fingers.
Bernard stood respectfully behind me, his posture rigid with concern. The silence of the cemetery wrapped around us, broken only by the occasional chirping of birds.
"Matriarch, perhaps we should return to the estate. You've had quite a shock," Bernard suggested gently.
I shook my head firmly. "Not yet."
My mind kept returning to a memory from three months ago, just before I left for Elderwood Retreat. Julian had visited me for tea, his usual perfunctory monthly appearance. I'd asked about the family, making casual conversation.
