Chapter 3 - The Grieving Mother
"Wait."
The single, commanding word instantly froze the security guards in their tracks.
Stepping out from the front row was Eleanor. The older woman in her sixties possessed a quiet, regal, and deeply intimidating dignity. She wore a flawlessly tailored black mourning dress, her short brown hair perfectly styled, and heavy, expensive silver jewelry resting against her collarbone. She was Emma’s mother, and she was the undisputed matriarch of the family’s billion-dollar real estate empire.
Eleanor’s eyes were red from crying, but her posture was unbreakable. She looked at the maid kneeling on the floor, then at the furious young man in the tuxedo.
"Eleanor, please," David said quickly, his voice instantly dropping its aggressive tone, shifting into a smooth, buttery manipulation. "The maid is having a nervous breakdown. Emma's death has been hard on the staff. Let security handle this so we can bury your daughter in peace."
But Eleanor didn't look at David. Her sharp, maternal instincts were suddenly screaming.
She remembered how fast David had moved over the last three days. He had refused an autopsy, citing religious reasons that Emma had never practiced. He had demanded a closed casket ceremony, completely forbidding Eleanor from looking at her only daughter one last time. He had arranged the burial with terrifying, calculated speed.
Eleanor slowly walked toward the altar. Her expensive black heels clicked softly against the floor. She approached the beautiful white coffin, her eyes locking onto the massive, jagged hole the maid had just chopped into the pristine wood.
"Eleanor, don't look," David stammered, stepping into her path, a sudden bead of sweat forming on his forehead. "It's disrespectful."
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Eleanor glared at him, her expression icy and lethal. "Move."
👉 Eleanor was about to look into the darkness of the coffin, and what she found would shatter the entire funeral.
