“They aren’t going anywhere,” I said, a dark, terrible plan forming in my mind. “Mother thrives on optics. She loves an audience. She thinks she has my signature, and she thinks my wife is braindead. They have a private funeral scheduled at the family cemetery at dawn. Let them have their ceremony.”
Nadia looked at me, seeing the absolute zero coldness in my eyes. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to let them dig their own graves,” I replied. “Literally.”
The dawn air at Oakwood Estate Cemetery was biting and damp. A thick, grey mist rolled over the ancient marble headstones of the Vanguard family plot.
It was a highly exclusive, private affair. Mother had cordoned off the area. She stood at the edge of a freshly dug, deep rectangular hole, flanked by Marcus and Sterling. Surrounding them were five key members of the Vanguard Board of Directors—men Mother had undoubtedly bribed or blackmailed to witness my “resignation” and her ascension to power.
A glossy black hearse sat idling nearby, though the casket was already resting on the mechanical lowering device over the grave. It was a solid mahogany box this time; the glass casket had been ruined by my bookend.
I walked up the grassy knoll alone. I wore a wrinkled black suit, keeping my head bowed, playing the part of the shattered, defeated man they believed me to be.
Mother looked up, dabbing at dry eyes with a lace handkerchief. “Daniel. I’m surprised you came. You should be at the hospital with the… remains of your family.”
“I had to say goodbye,” I murmured, staring at the mahogany box.
Marcus checked his gold Rolex, looking bored. “Let’s get this over with. We have an emergency board meeting at nine to ratify the asset transfer. You brought the signed documents, right?”
“I did,” I said, keeping my hands in my pockets.
Sterling stepped forward, clearing his throat. He looked at the board members. “We are gathered here today to lay to rest Eleanor Vanguard, and to tragically acknowledge the passing of the torch. In light of Daniel’s… incapacity to lead due to grief, Evelyn Vanguard will assume total control of the estate.”
“Lower it,” Mother commanded the groundskeeper.
The gears ground loudly in the quiet morning air. The mahogany box began its slow descent into the dark earth.
“Stop,” I said. My voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the mist like a gunshot.
The groundskeeper froze. Mother’s head snapped toward me, her eyes narrowing. “Daniel, don’t make a scene. It’s undignified.”
“I want to see her one last time,” I said, walking to the edge of the grave.
“Absolutely not,” Marcus snapped, moving to block my path. “The casket is sealed. It’s over, Daniel. Back off.”
I didn’t back off. I stepped directly into his personal space, the combat medic replacing the grieving husband. “Move, Marcus. Or I will throw you in that hole myself.”
He hesitated, seeing something terrifying in my eyes, and took a step back.
I reached down and unlatched the heavy brass locks of the mahogany casket. The board members leaned in, murmuring in confusion. Mother’s face drained of color.
I threw the lid open.
There was a collective gasp from the board members. Sterling took a stumbling step backward.
The casket was entirely empty of a body.
Instead, resting on the plush white satin, were the original, physical ledgers of the Vanguard pension fund. Beside them lay a stack of high-resolution printed photographs of Marcus carrying a paralyzed Eleanor, and Evelyn holding the syringe.
