Chapter 1 - The Empty Casket
The sterile white walls of the underground medical facility felt a million miles away from the freezing cliffs of Ravenstone.
I sat in a plush leather armchair, resting my hand on my still-swollen belly as I watched the large monitor mounted on the wall.
Richard Whitmore stood completely still beside me, his tailored suit immaculate and his posture rigid with suppressed fury.
On the screen, a high-definition hidden camera broadcasted the live feed of my own meticulously planned funeral.
The mahogany casket sitting at the front of the grand cathedral was incredibly expensive, lined with white silk, and entirely empty.
Evan stood perfectly positioned near the altar, wiping away non-existent tears with a monogrammed handkerchief.
He looked the part of the utterly devastated widow, accepting condolences from my grieving friends and our wealthy neighbors.
Just two pews behind him sat Celeste, wearing a tasteful black designer dress that I had purchased for a charity gala last year.
My blood boiled when the camera zoomed in and I saw the distinct sparkle of my grandmother’s diamond tennis bracelet wrapped around her wrist.
Evan leaned over the empty wooden box, gently placing a single white rose on top of the polished lid for the photographers.
He was putting on the performance of a lifetime, completely unaware that his murdered wife was eating fresh strawberries and watching his every move.
Richard pulled out a sleek tablet and tapped the screen to open the internal database of Whitmore Atlantic Insurance Group.
He showed me the timestamp of Evan’s massive fifty-million-dollar insurance claim.
Evan had filed the preliminary paperwork on his phone while he was still sitting in the police station giving his fake statement about my tragic fall.
He had not even waited for the snowstorm to clear before trying to cash in on my brutal death.
I took a deep breath, feeling my unborn son kick strongly against my ribs in a comforting rhythm.
I asked Richard how long we had to wait before the insurance money was officially cleared for transfer into Evan's private bank account.
Richard explained that we needed the money to physically hit the account so we could charge Evan with first-degree wire fraud and attempted murder.
The trap was perfectly set, and Evan was walking blindly right into the center of the snare.
Suddenly, the cathedral doors on the video feed swung open, and a tall man in a grey trench coat walked down the center aisle.
The stranger completely ignored the usher, walking directly up to Evan and aggressively grabbing him by the shoulder.
Evan looked terrified as the man leaned in close, whispering something directly into his ear that made all the fake color drain from his face.
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The camera microphone caught a faint, sinister whisper from the man in the coat.
He told Evan that the police had just searched the bottom of the cliff, and there was absolutely no body buried in the snow.
