He stiffened slightly against me, the swell of the organ masking the venom in my words. He must have thought I meant she deserved peace after her sudden, “tragic” decline. He squeezed my shoulder, entirely oblivious to the fact that my trembling wasn’t from sorrow, but from the adrenaline coursing through my veins.<\/p>\n
The pastor gave his final blessing, and the pallbearers stepped forward to guide Eleanor\u2019s heavy mahogany casket down the aisle. David took my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. His palm was warm and dry\u2014the steady hand of a man who believed he had just pulled off the perfect crime.<\/p>\n
As we walked slowly behind the casket, keeping our heads bowed for the murmuring congregation, my mind flashed back to the glowing screen of my tablet at 3:00 AM. I had placed the hidden camera in a potted orchid by her bedside to catch what I suspected was an abusive night nurse. Instead, the infrared lens had captured my devoted husband.<\/p>\n
I had watched the grainy, black-and-white footage of David slipping into the room after visiting hours. I watched him casually check his Rolex, pull a syringe from his tailored jacket, and inject it directly into his mother’s IV line. I watched him stand there, completely devoid of emotion, watching her chest stutter and still. He had even smoothed her hair before pressing the call button and beginning his frantic, Oscar-worthy cries for help. He did it for the estate, of course. Seven million dollars would easily erase the offshore gambling debts he thought I didn’t know about.<\/p>\n
“Almost to the car, darling,” David murmured in my ear as we neared the vestibule, his breath ghosting over my cheek. “Then we can finally go home.”<\/p>\n
“Yes,” I replied, keeping my eyes fixed on the heavy oak doors of the church. “Almost.”<\/p>\n
The doors swung open, spilling harsh afternoon sunlight into the dim sanctuary. But the path to the awaiting hearse was blocked. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the vestibule were Detective Miller and three uniformed officers.<\/p>\n
David\u2019s footsteps faltered. His grip on my hand tightened painfully. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his voice projecting the perfect blend of authority and wounded grief. “We are in the middle of a funeral procession. Have some respect.”<\/p>\n
Detective Miller didn\u2019t flinch. He stepped forward, holding up a sleek, black tablet\u2014my tablet.<\/p>\n
“David Vance,” Miller\u2019s voice rang out, echoing off the vaulted ceilings and silencing the gasping crowd behind us. “You are under arrest for the murder of Eleanor Vance.”<\/p>\n
The bouquet of lilies in David’s hand hit the marble floor. The grieving son facade cracked, shattering into a million pieces as true, primal panic flooded his eyes. He whipped his head around to look at me, searching my face for confusion, for support.<\/p>\n
Instead, he found me standing perfectly still, the black lace handkerchief tucked neatly away in my purse. I took a deliberate step back, slipping my hand out of his.<\/p>\n
“You…” he breathed, the realization dawning as the officers grabbed his arms and forced them behind his back. The metallic click of the handcuffs echoed louder than the church bells. “You set me up.”<\/p>\n
I smoothed the front of my black dress and offered him a sad, fragile smile\u2014the exact same one he had given me when he told me his mother had passed peacefully in her sleep.<\/p>\n
“Like you said, David,” I replied, my voice steady and clear. “We’re all each other has left now. But where you’re going… you’ll have to get used to being alone.”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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