Chapter 2: The Funeral
When I woke up, the world was white.
White ceiling.
White sheets.
White bandages wrapped around my wrist and ribs.
For one beautiful second, I thought death was quiet.
Then I heard a baby cry.
Small.
Furious.
Alive.
I turned my head, and everything inside me broke open.
A nurse stood beside my bed, holding a tiny bundle wrapped in a blue blanket. His face was red. His fists were clenched. His cry was the strongest sound I had ever heard.
“Your son,” the nurse said softly.
I reached for him with my good hand.
The moment they placed him against my chest, I sobbed without sound.
Not because I was weak.
Because he was warm.
Because he was breathing.
Because Michael had failed.
I named him Noah.
Richard stood near the window, his face turned away, one hand pressed against his mouth. He looked like a man watching a miracle he no longer believed he deserved.
“You saved us,” I whispered.
He shook his head.
“I came too late.”
“No,” I said, holding Noah closer. “You came before the end.”
Hours later, Richard told me the truth.
My mother, Catherine, had once been engaged to him. He was from old money, a family with enemies, contracts, and secrets buried beneath beautiful houses. When she became pregnant, Richard’s father had threatened to destroy her unless she disappeared.
So she ran.
Then someone sent Richard a death certificate with my mother’s name on it.
Years later, my mother told me my father had died before I was born.
Both of them had been lied to.
“I found her grave last year,” Richard said. “Empty.”
My blood turned cold.
“What?”
“There was never a body.” His voice lowered. “Someone wanted both of us separated. Permanently.”
Before I could process that, Henderson entered the room.
He was Richard’s head of security, tall, silent, and terrifyingly calm.
“The funeral starts in forty minutes,” he said.
My fingers tightened around Noah.
“My funeral?”
Richard nodded once.
“Michael identified remains from the ravine. A woman’s body was found three miles away after the storm. He claimed it was you.”
My stomach twisted.
“He’s burying someone else under my name.”
“And collecting sympathy while he does it,” Henderson said.
Richard handed me a tablet.
The screen showed a live feed from a chapel in Denver.
Flowers everywhere.
My portrait near the casket.
Guests dressed in black.
And there, beside the front pew, stood Michael Carter.
Ashley was beside him.
Not even hiding.
Michael wore a dark suit, his hair perfectly styled, his face solemn enough for strangers.
But when people looked away, he smiled.
Ashley leaned close and whispered something.
Michael’s lips curved.
Then he said it.
Clear enough for the hidden microphone Henderson had placed near the casket.
“They both froze to death. That worthless woman got exactly what she deserved.”
The hospital room went silent.
My body trembled, but not from fear.
Richard’s face turned deadly.
Henderson simply looked at me.
“Do you want us to stop him now?”
I looked down at Noah.
His tiny hand rested against my chest.
Michael had tried to erase us for money.
He had stood over my grave and smiled.
I lifted my eyes.
“No,” I said quietly. “Let him finish the performance.”
Richard studied my face.
“What are you planning?”
I looked at the funeral screen.
Michael was accepting condolences like a grieving husband.
Ashley was touching his sleeve like a future wife.
May you like
And behind them, the casket waited for a woman who wasn’t me.
“I want him to believe he won,” I said. “Right until the moment everyone sees the truth.”
