"I stood beside my sister’s coffin, one hand on the tiny casket ribbon meant for the baby she never got to hold, when her husband walked in with his mistress on his arm. My bl:ood ran cold. ‘You really thought I wouldn’t find out?’ I said, flashing my badge. For weeks, I’d gathered every lie, every message, every trace of bl:ood. And when I exposed him in front of everyone, his smile vanished—but that was only the beginning.

Standing in the chapel, watching Daniel’s composure melt away into sheer panic, I felt no satisfaction. The void where my sister and niece should have been was far too vast for a petty victory.

Celeste took a step away from Daniel, her heels clicking loudly on the marble. Her loyalty, predictably, was as thin as her silk dress.

“Daniel,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “What is she talking about? You told me the insurance money was from a legacy trust. You told me—”

“Shut up, Celeste!” Daniel barked, turning his head to glare at her, his mask completely shattered now.

The mourners in the pews gasped again. My father stepped into the aisle, his hands balling into trembling fists, but I held up a hand to keep him back. This was my crime scene now.

“She’s right, Celeste,” I said, turning my eyes to the blonde woman. “He lied to you, too. But don't pretend you’re entirely innocent. You signed the secondary beneficiary forms on that insurance policy as a corporate witness. You verified a forged signature claiming Maya had consented to the policy increase.”

Celeste’s eyes widened in horror. “I—I just signed what he put in front of me! I didn't know!”

“In the eyes of the federal government, ignorance is not a defense against corporate conspiracy to commit capital fraud,” I said smoothly. “And when that fraud is directly linked to a homicide, you become an accessory before the fact.”

“Lena, please,” Daniel said, his voice suddenly taking on a frantic, pleading edge that made my stomach turn. He took a step toward me, reaching out his hands as if he could still play the role of the grieving, misunderstood brother-in-law. “We’re family. You’re upset. You’re grieving. Let’s go into the pastor’s study and talk about this privately. We can sort out the finances. I can set up a foundation in Maya’s name—a trust for children—”

“A trust?” I cut him off, my voice echoing like a crack of thunder through the holy room. “You want to talk about trusts standing beside the casket of the child you killed?”

I pointed a gloved finger at the pale pink coffin.

“Look at it, Daniel!” I commanded, my calm facade cracking just enough to let the fire beneath show through. “Look at your daughter! Look at the child you gave a name to last month! You didn't just kill my sister! You starved that little girl of oxygen while her mother’s heart failed!”

Daniel couldn't look. His eyes darted wildly around the room, desperate for an escape, an excuse, a friendly face. But the mourners—his friends, his clients, his country club acquaintances—were all pulling back from him, staring at him as if he were a poisonous snake that had suddenly slithered out from under the pews.

He backed up until his spine hit the wooden altar rail. He was cornered, trapped inside the very chapel he had walked into with such arrogant triumph twenty minutes ago.

“You have no proof,” he rasped, his voice dropping into a desperate, feral hiss. “You have a badge and a copy of a lab report. That isn't enough to hold me. You can't arrest me at my wife’s funeral!”

I smiled. It was a cold, merciless line that offered no warmth.