Chapter 2 — The Woman Who Refused to Die
The funeral parlor fell into stunned silence.
No one moved.
No one even seemed willing to breathe.
Vivian's fingers remained locked around Edgar's wrist with surprising strength for someone who had supposedly been dead for three days.
Her lips trembled.
"The priest..."
She struggled for air.
"...don't let him touch me."
Every head slowly turned.
Father Benedict stood perfectly still at the end of the coffin.
His expression never changed.
Only his eyes did.
For the briefest moment, something cold flashed behind them.
Then he smiled gently.
"My child has suffered terrible trauma," he said softly. "She isn't thinking clearly."
But Vivian violently shook her head.
"No..."
She coughed painfully.
"He buried me alive."
Gasps echoed throughout the chapel.
Edgar stared between his wife and the priest as though the world had broken apart.
"What are you talking about?"
Vivian's voice was barely audible.
"I wasn't dead."
"They gave me something..."
"...something that stopped my heartbeat."
"I could hear everything."
Her breathing became ragged.
"I heard you crying."
"I heard them close the coffin."
Tears streamed down Edgar's face.
"My God..."
"I was awake."
Rosa wrapped a blanket around Vivian's shoulders while paramedics rushed through the front doors.
As they lifted Vivian onto the stretcher, she grabbed Edgar's sleeve again.
"Check the ring."
"The priest..."
"...switched the ring."
Edgar frowned.
"The ring?"
Vivian nodded weakly.
"The emerald."
"It's not mine."
Before anyone could ask another question, Father Benedict quietly stepped toward the side exit.
Rosa noticed first.
"He's leaving!"
The priest froze.
Then he ran.
Chaos exploded through the funeral home.
Guests scattered.
Security guards charged after him.
Edgar followed without thinking.
Father Benedict almost reached the parking lot when police officers arriving with the ambulance intercepted him.
As they forced him to the ground, something slipped from inside his robe.
A small silver syringe.
Still half full.
Edgar's blood ran cold.
He had seen that syringe before.
It belonged to the private physician who had pronounced Vivian dead.
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And suddenly...
The funeral became a crime scene.
