THE MATRIARCH'S REQUIEM

CHAPTER 12 — THE QUEEN'S FUNERAL

The world believed Victoria Waldorf was dying.

That was the first mistake.

People always underestimated my mother when she was at her weakest.

They saw the hospital bed.

The machines.

The pale skin.

The fragile body.

They saw a woman who had finally lost control.

But they never understood Victoria Waldorf.

The crown was never the source of her power.

The crown was only a symbol.

The real power was the mind underneath it.

And even surrounded by doctors, police officers, and enemies...

My mother was still thinking.

Still planning.

Still playing.

Three days after the massacre, Victoria Waldorf died.

At least, that was what the world was told.

The announcement spread everywhere.

News stations.

Financial networks.

Social media.

Everywhere.

VICTORIA WALDORF, MATRIARCH OF THE WALDORF EMPIRE, DEAD AT 72.

The world mourned.

They remembered the philanthropist.

The businesswoman.

The woman who donated millions to charities.

The woman who built hospitals and schools.

They wrote beautiful words about her.

They called her visionary.

Powerful.

Unforgettable.

Nobody wrote about the hidden rooms.

Nobody wrote about Isabella.

Nobody wrote about the children she destroyed.

Nobody wrote about the fear.

Because the world only loved the version of Victoria Waldorf she created.

I stood outside the church watching people arrive.

The same people who had spent decades praising my mother.

Executives.

Politicians.

Celebrities.

Old family friends.

People who smiled at Victoria while secretly fearing her.

They came dressed in black.

They came carrying flowers.

They came to say goodbye to a woman they never truly knew.

Detective Vance stood beside me.

“You sure you want to do this?”

I looked at the church doors.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Because I needed to see it.

The final performance.

The last act of Victoria Waldorf.

Even death couldn't stop her from controlling the room.

The funeral was perfect.

Of course it was.

Everything Victoria touched had to be perfect.

The flowers were arranged exactly.

The music was chosen carefully.

The speeches were emotional.

The guests cried at the right moments.

It was beautiful.

And completely fake.

Just like everything else.

I sat in the front row.

The place reserved for family.

A place I had spent my entire life trying to earn.

Now it felt meaningless.

Because I finally understood.

I was never trying to become part of the Waldorf family.

I had always been trapped inside it.

Arthur sat several seats away.

My father.

The man who came back from the dead.

The man who knew every secret.

He looked older than before.

Not physically.

Something deeper.

Like carrying the truth had finally become heavier than carrying lies.

He caught my eye.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then he looked away.

There was shame there.

But shame was complicated.

Because guilt did not erase damage.

A person could regret what they did.

And still deserve punishment.

Then the doors opened.

Everyone turned.

A woman entered.

The entire room became silent.

Isabella.

My sister.

The first lost daughter.

The one who disappeared.

The one my mother tried to erase.

She walked slowly down the aisle.

No fear.

No hesitation.

Everyone recognized the resemblance.

The same eyes.

The same posture.

The same Waldorf confidence.

But Isabella was not Victoria.

That was the difference.

Victoria wanted control.

Isabella wanted truth.

She sat beside me.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then she whispered:

“She would hate this.”

I looked at her.

“What?”

“The funeral.”

A faint smile appeared.

“Everyone pretending to love her.”

Despite everything...

I almost laughed.

Because she was right.

The priest began speaking.

Words about forgiveness.

Legacy.

Family.

I barely listened.

Because I was watching the people around me.

The survivors.

Arthur.

Isabella.

Me.

And somewhere out there...

Evelyn.

The daughter who had disappeared again.

The daughter who started the final game.

Halfway through the ceremony, something unexpected happened.

The large screen behind the altar flickered.

Everyone looked up.

The priest stopped.

The room went silent.

Then a video appeared.

A recording.

My mother's face filled the screen.

Alive.

Calm.

Perfect.

A collective gasp moved through the crowd.

Victoria Waldorf.

Speaking after her death.

Nobody moved.

Nobody breathed.

Then she smiled.

That smile.

The one I knew better than anyone.

“My friends.”

Her recorded voice echoed through the church.

“If you are seeing this, then I am no longer with you.”

A pause.

“Or at least, that is what I wanted you to believe.”

The room erupted.

People whispered.

Phones appeared.

Detectives immediately moved.

But nobody stopped the video.

Because everyone wanted to know.

Everyone wanted to hear the final words of the queen.

Victoria continued.

“My life has been dedicated to one thing.”

The screen showed old photographs.

The Waldorf family.

The empire.

The charities.

The perfect image.

“Preserving the Waldorf name.”

Then the images changed.

The hidden room.

The old documents.

The secrets.

My stomach tightened.

“She was prepared.”

Vance whispered beside me.

Yes.

Of course she was.

“My family will tell you I was cruel.”

The recording continued.

“They will tell you I destroyed people.”

A pause.

“They will tell you I was a monster.”

Victoria looked directly into the camera.

“And they will be correct.”

The room froze.

For the first time...

My mother admitted it.

Not an excuse.

Not a defense.

A confession.

“But monsters are created.”

Her voice became colder.

“They are not born.”

The screen changed again.

Three young girls appeared.

Isabella.

Me.

Evelyn.

The entire room stared.

“My greatest failure was believing blood created loyalty.”

Victoria said.

“My greatest achievement was creating something stronger.”

I felt sick.

Because I knew what came next.

“Survival.”

The video showed documents.

The inheritance.

The last will.

The Waldorf empire.

Then one final document.

A document I had never seen.

Victoria's final decision.

“Three daughters.”

Her voice echoed.

“Three survivors.”

A pause.

“Only one can carry the crown.”

The room erupted.

People shouted.

Detectives moved.

But the video continued.

“The game began the night my family died.”

My heart stopped.

“No.”

Vance looked at me.

“What?”

I stared at the screen.

“She knew.”

Victoria smiled.

“The question was never who murdered my family.”

A pause.

“The question was who was strong enough to inherit what remained.”

The screen went black.

For a moment...

There was silence.

Then one final message appeared.

Written in white letters.

THE QUEEN IS DEAD.
THE GAME CONTINUES.

Chaos followed.

Police evacuated guests.

Reporters surrounded the church.

Everyone wanted answers.

Everyone wanted the next chapter.

But I already knew.

Because my mother had planned this moment.

Her funeral wasn't goodbye.

It was an invitation.

A final move.

Outside the church, Isabella stood beside me.

“She wanted us to fight.”

I looked at her.

“Yes.”

“She always believed people revealed who they truly were when they fought for power.”

I looked back at the church.

At the crowd.

At the empire built on lies.

“She was wrong.”

Isabella studied me.

“Why?”

Because Victoria misunderstood one thing.

She thought we were fighting for the crown.

She thought we wanted what she built.

But she didn't understand her daughters.

Not anymore.

“Because none of us want her throne.”

A pause.

“We want to destroy it.”

My phone vibrated.

Unknown number.

I answered.

A familiar voice.

Evelyn.

“You saw the video.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Where are you?”

Silence.

Then:

“Where this story began.”

My heart tightened.

“Where?”

A pause.

Then she whispered:

“Waldorf Estate.”

The call ended.

I looked toward Isabella.

She already knew.

Arthur already knew.

The three daughters.

The three survivors.

The final confrontation was waiting.

The queen was dead.

But the kingdom remained.

And now...

May you like

A Billionaire’s Son Tried to Attack Her—Then She Threw Him Into a Luxury...

The Mafia Boss Caught His Fiancée Dragging a Nurse Into the Cellar—Then...

The Socialite Dragged Me Across the Hotel Floor—Never Knowing I Was the...

It was time to decide what happened to the crown.

END OF CHAPTER 12 — THE QUEEN'S FUNERAL