Chapter 2
The amber glow of the funeral home's vintage chandeliers did little to warm the frigid atmosphere of the chapel. Arthur Sterling held the velvet rabbit like a fragile piece of explosive ordnance, his thumb resting near the playback toggle. He did not look at Elena, whose breath hitched rhythmically as she leaned against the pew for physical support. Arthur’s mind was a chessboard, and every person in this room was a pawn whose utility was about to be recalculated.
"Arthur, you can’t possibly believe this nonsense," whispered Richard Vance, Clara’s uncle and the patriarch of the family trust. Richard’s face was flushed, his expensive tie crooked as he stepped out of the aisle. "The child is traumatized. She’s mixing up her dreams with reality. Clara fell. The coroner signed off on it."
Arthur turned his head slowly, his expression a mask of chilling detachment. "The coroner signed off based on the evidence we provided, Richard. Evidence that appears to have been severely incomplete."
Maya stood silently beside Arthur, her navy blue dress neat, her white cardigan buttoned to the top. She did not look at Richard, nor did she glance at Elena. Her dark eyes remained fixed on the white coffin resting at the front of the room. Inside that casket lay her mother, silenced permanently, yet somehow speaking through a machine cobbled together by a mother desperate to protect her child from an unseen predator.
Elena forced herself upright, her fingernails digging into the lacquered wood of the pew. "Arthur, listen to me," she pleaded, her voice cracking beneath a veneer of desperate composure. "Clara was unwell. She was erratic. You know how she was after the divorce. That video—if it even is what she claims—it’s edited. It’s out of context. Someone manipulated that child."
"Manipulated a seven-year-old into recording her own mother's murder?" Arthur raised an eyebrow, the sarcasm in his tone razor-sharp. "That would require a level of foresight and technological genius that even Clara lacked, Elena. And yet, here we are."
The two police officers outside the frosted glass doors knocked twice, signaling that the perimeter was secure. Arthur nodded subtly toward the entrance, though he made no move to let them in just yet. He wanted the Vance family to sweat. He wanted them to realize that their dynastic wealth and social standing could not shield them from the cold, unyielding lens of a child's toy.
May you like
Richard stepped forward aggressively, his hand raised as if to swat the digital recorder from Arthur’s grip. "Give me that device, Arthur. This is a private family matter. We will handle this internally, as we always do."
Arthur didn’t blink. He simply stepped back, placing a protective hand on Maya’s shoulder. "The Vance family handled things internally for far too long, Richard. And now, a woman is dead, and a little girl has no mother. The internal auditing is officially over."
