Chapter 6 - The Grieving Widower
The morning of my funeral arrived with a gloomy, torrential downpour that perfectly matched the fake sorrow inside the parlor.
I sat in a specialized medical wheelchair in the back of Arthur's surveillance van, watching the live feed from the hidden cameras inside the chapel.
My body was regaining strength by the hour, and I could finally move my arms and legs with deliberate, albeit weak, precision.
Inside the opulent funeral home, Julian was delivering a masterful, tear-stained performance for the wealthy elite of our city.
He stood beside my closed, empty mahogany casket, wiping his eyes with a silk handkerchief as he spoke about our profound, unbreakable love.
Serena sat in the front row, wearing an outrageously expensive black designer dress purchased with my stolen credit cards.
She dabbed at her dry eyes, playing the role of the supportive family friend to absolute perfection.
When the eulogies finally concluded, the guests gathered in the grand reception hall for the formal reading of the will.
Arthur walked confidently onto the stage, placing his leather briefcase on the podium and adjusting his reading glasses.
Before Arthur could even break the official wax seal, Julian abruptly stood up and marched to the front of the room.
He pulled a crumpled, heavily folded document from his tailored suit jacket and held it high in the air.
Julian loudly announced that I had miraculously signed a revised, handwritten will just hours before my tragic passing.
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He claimed his new document legally voided Arthur's paperwork and left the entire architecture firm directly to him.
The corrupt family doctor stepped out of the crowd, loudly declaring to the room that he had personally witnessed me sign Julian's paper.
