Chapter 1: The Shattered Altar**
The suffocating stillness inside St. Jude’s Chapel broke like fragile glass. Evelyn Vance remained frozen beneath the stained-glass sunlight, her manicured fingers trembling over her mouth. Her son, Julian, stood at the center aisle, holding aloft the sealed evidence bag containing twin infant bottles dusted with toxic white residue.
Five-year-old Lily hugged her worn plush bear tighter, her innocent brown eyes scanning the sea of horrified faces. She didn't understand why the adults were suddenly holding their breath. She only knew that Grandma had told her it was their special game—a secret sprinkle to make the crying stop.
"Julian... put that away," Evelyn whispered, her aristocratic voice wavering as she attempted to salvage decades of high-society composure. "You are having an emotional breakdown. Your grief over Claire and the twins has driven you mad."
"Claire didn't kill our babies, Mother," Julian said, stepping forward with deliberate, agonizing clarity. His voice echoed against the vaulted cedar beams. "You painted her as an unstable mother. You convinced the coroner it was sudden infant death syndrome. But Lily watched you in the nursery kitchen that night."
Father Thomas stepped between them, his hand raised in quiet horror. "God is watching this house, Evelyn. If you have done this, no prayer can shelter you from the truth."
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Sirens wailed in the distant autumn wind, cutting through the church’s heavy silence. Evelyn took a single, desperate step backward against the polished oak pews, her pristine facade cracking into sheer panic.
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