Chapter 4
The audio from the smartphone filled the hushed church, cutting through the heavy scent of lilies with brutal clarity. Arthur’s recorded voice boomed through the small speaker, sharp and uncompromising. "You sign those papers tonight, Sarah, or you won't have a legacy left to pass down to that ungrateful brat." The congregation, which had slowly drifted back toward the pews out of morbid curiosity, collectively gasped. Beatrice covered her mouth with a trembling hand, her face draining of all color as she realized the sheer scale of the exposure. Arthur lunged forward with a sudden, desperate burst of energy, aiming to knock the phone from Officer Miller’s hand, but Officer Torres was faster. Torres intercepted the lunge with a solid forearm, shoving Arthur back against the mahogany edge of a front-row pew with enough force to knock the wind out of him. "Attempting to destroy evidence is a felony, Mr. Vance," Torres warned, his hand hovering over his handcuffs. Arthur stumbled, righting himself while clutching his bruised ribs, his carefully cultivated veneer completely shattered. His eyes were wide, darting frantically around the church as he realized his allies had vanished; even the sympathetic whispers from the few family friends in attendance had evaporated into cold judgment. On the screen, Sarah’s calm, resolute voice answered the threat. "I'm sending this file to the cloud right now, Arthur. The embezzlement, the forged signatures on the trust fund—it's all backed up. If anything happens to me or Lily, the authorities get the master keys." A loud screech of tires echoed from the phone’s speaker, followed by the crunch of twisting metal and a sudden, deafening silence that made everyone in the room flinch. Lily didn't flinch. She stood like a statue, her dark eyes fixed on the man who had tried to steal her future. Miller paused the recording, the blue light fading from his face as he looked up at Arthur with undisguised disgust. "Looks like you have some serious questions to answer down at the precinct, Mr. Vance," Miller said, pulling out his handcuffs. Beatrice let out a low, pathetic moan and sank heavily onto a cushioned kneeler, abandoned by the son she had protected for too long. The funeral was officially over; the interrogation had begun.
