Chapter 4 - The Funeral Rehearsal
Brooklyn stared at the dispatch report in total horror.
“How could he identify a body as me?” she asked.
“I am standing right here.”
Winston paced the length of the office, his mind calculating the angles.
“Water damage makes identification difficult, but not impossible,” Winston said.
“If Bradley paid the right medical examiner, he could slap your name on any Jane Doe.”
“He is forcing the insurance company to pay out immediately,” Elias realized.
Brooklyn felt a surge of pure, unadulterated rage.
“I want to see what he’s doing,” she demanded.
Winston nodded, signaling to Elias.
“Access the security cameras inside his house,” Winston ordered.
Elias had already hacked into the Whitfield family’s smart-home security system.
The large monitor flickered, showing a live feed of Brooklyn’s own living room.
The house was packed with people dressed in expensive black mourning clothes.
They weren't crying.
They were drinking champagne.
Marlene was standing by the fireplace, laughing with a group of neighbors.
Vivian was showing off a new designer watch to her friends.
Corey was pacing by the window, talking aggressively on his cell phone.
Then the camera shifted to the kitchen.
Bradley was standing by the marble island, holding a glass of wine.
Cassandra walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
Bradley turned around and kissed her deeply, right in the middle of Brooklyn's kitchen.
Brooklyn felt her nails dig into her palms until they bled.
“Zoom in on Cassandra,” Brooklyn whispered.
Elias enhanced the image, focusing on Cassandra’s left hand.
She was wearing Brooklyn’s grandmother’s diamond engagement ring.
“He didn't just take my money,” Brooklyn said, her voice shaking with fury.
“He gave her my family heirloom.”
Winston placed a heavy, comforting hand on her shoulder.
“They are celebrating a victory they haven't won yet,” Winston promised.
On the screen, Cassandra whispered something into Bradley’s ear.
Bradley smiled and placed his hand gently over Cassandra’s stomach.
“She’s pregnant,” Brooklyn breathed.
“That’s why he told the news I was expecting.”
“He’s going to use the insurance money to raise his new family,” Winston said.
Brooklyn turned away from the screen, her sadness completely evaporating.
“Elias, I need you to find a local bakery that delivers,” Brooklyn ordered.
Winston raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her sudden change in tone.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
Brooklyn looked at her husband’s smiling face on the monitor.
“I’m going to send them a gift from the dead.”
Two hours later, a delivery driver knocked on the door of the Whitfield home.
Bradley opened it, looking annoyed to be interrupted.
The driver handed him a white bakery box tied with a specific blue ribbon.
Bradley brought it into the kitchen and opened the lid.
Inside was a cherry pie, baked exactly the way Brooklyn used to make it for his birthday.
Resting on top of the crust was a handwritten note.
May you like
Bradley picked it up, his face draining of all color as he read the single sentence.
“The water is too cold for the baby, Bradley.”
