Chapter 5
Julian helped Clara out of the casket, her legs shaking beneath the heavy sequined gown as her bare feet touched the cold marble. He wrapped his black coat around her shivering shoulders, pulling the thick wool tight against her collarbones. She leaned heavily against him, her breathing still shallow, but her eyes were sharp, scanning the chapel for any sign of escape or betrayal.
Arthur didn't panic. Men of his stature did not panic; they repositioned. He slowly walked toward the vestry door, his leather-soled shoes clicking rhythmically against the stone.
"Vance, don't be absurd," Arthur said, his tone dripping with patronizing condescension. "Clara has suffered a severe psychological breakdown. The board has medical documentation dating back six months detailing her delusions of persecution. This theatrical display is simply the final manifestation of that instability."
"Delusions don't leave rope burns on wrists, Arthur," Vance retorted, clicking a button on the recording device. A small red light blinked to life, steady and accusing. "And they certainly don't require duct tape across the mouth to prevent screaming during a funeral procession. Sit down in the pew. Both of you."
Evelyn stumbled back from the altar, her green velvet dress catching on a wrought-iron candleholder. She looked like a trapped animal, her mascara running in dark streaks down her pale cheeks. "I didn't want this," she sobbed, the polished exterior completely gone. "Arthur said it was just a temporary placement until the trust was restructured. He swore she wouldn't feel anything. He said it was painless."
Clara stiffened beside Julian. She turned her gaze toward the woman she had once considered a trusted confidante. "You watched them lower the lid, Evelyn. You stood right there and dropped a white rose on the polished wood while I was screaming inside."
"I was afraid!" Evelyn shrieked, the sound echoing sharply against the vaulted ceiling. "You don't know what he does when people refuse him! My brother's firm... our entire family's assets—he controls every line of credit! We would have been ruined overnight!"
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"That's enough," Arthur barked, his voice cutting through Evelyn's hysterics like a scalpel. He stopped at the heavy oak door of the vestry, his hand resting on the brass handle. He didn't look back. "Vance, you have no proof that links me directly to the sedative acquisition. The pharmacy logs are clean. The doctor who signed the provisional certificate is currently on a flight to Zurich. By tomorrow morning, this will be handled privately as a tragic family dispute."
Julian let go of Clara for a fraction of a second, lunging forward with a sudden, explosive velocity that caught Arthur completely off guard. He slammed his shoulder directly into Arthur’s chest, driving the older man hard against the heavy oak vestry door with a resounding crash.
