Chapter 3
Arthur froze, his hand hovering an inch from Sarah’s bound face. He slowly turned his head to look down at Leo. The boy’s hazel eyes were no longer pleading or hopeful; they were hardened into tiny chips of flint. The pickaxe trembled slightly in Leo's small hands, but the sharp point remained aimed squarely at Arthur’s chest. For a fleeting moment, a flash of genuine respect flickered in Arthur’s cold eyes, quickly swallowed by a calculated coldness.
"You think this changes anything, boy?" Arthur asked quietly, his voice dropping to a dangerous, intimate register that didn't carry past the first three pews. He slowly straightened up, stepping back from the coffin to put distance between himself and the threatening steel. "Your mother made choices. Bad choices. Choices that threatened everything your family owns, everything you stand to inherit when you come of age."
Sarah thrashed inside the white satin padding, her muffled sounds growing more urgent as she fought against the zip-ties binding her wrists. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks, cutting clean paths through the dust that had settled on her skin during her hours in the dark.
Leo ignored Arthur, dropping the heavy pickaxe with a loud clatter onto the stone floor. He scrambled onto the edge of the coffin, ignoring the splintered wood that scraped his knees. "Mom, I've got you. I'm right here," he whispered, his voice cracking as he reached out with trembling fingers to peel back the corner of the thick silver tape.
The adhesive tore away with a harsh ripping sound, and Sarah gasped, sucking in a massive, ragged breath of air that sounded like a sob. She coughed violently, her body shaking as the restriction was lifted from her mouth. "Leo... baby..." she rasped, her voice ruined and raspy from hours of suffocated crying. She tried to lift her bound arms to embrace him, but the plastic ties held fast, digging cruelly into her bruised skin.
"Don't move, don't move, I'll fix it," Leo muttered frantically, scanning the interior of the coffin for something sharp. His eyes landed on a small, serrated floral knife that someone had carelessly tossed near the footboard—probably used to cut the stems of the funeral lilies. He snatched it up, sawing furiously at the heavy plastic bindings around his mother's wrists.
Thomas finally found his voice, stepping forward with his hands raised defensively. "Arthur, we can't do this here. Not in broad daylight, not with the sexton due back from lunch at any minute. This violates every term of the agreement. The board will never back an outright abduction gone wrong."
May you like
Arthur didn't look at the lawyer. His eyes remained locked on Sarah, who was now rubbing her raw wrists as soon as Leo severed the last plastic tie. "The board cares about numbers, Thomas. And right now, the numbers require silence. Sarah tried to liquidate the offshore accounts. She broke the covenant of the syndicate. You knew the price when you married into the firm, Sarah."
Sarah pulled herself up, her designer dress stained with dirt and sweat, her hair matted against her forehead. Despite her exhaustion, her eyes burned with a fierce, maternal defiance that mirrored her son's. "I signed nothing under duress that legally binds my son's future," she spat out, her voice regaining its sharp, commanding edge. "And Arthur, your signature on the ledger is forged. Thomas has the originals in his briefcase."
