Talia turned page eight of the agreement:
“And the deed to **Parcel Ten**? The subterranean crypt acreage beneath the cemetery expansion on the Ogeechee River?”
Thad’s eyes narrowed into two gleaming, predatory slits of gray quartz:
“Under Clause Seven of the divorce agreement Coraly signed forty minutes ago,” Thad said, leaning forward and resting his palms against the mahogany:
“She waives all survivorship claims to any ancestral real estate, any family trusts, and any corporate holdings associated with Bromel Mortuary or its subsidiaries in exchange for a fifty-thousand-dollar cash settlement and her personal clothing.”
Thad took another slow sip:
“Uncle Arthur’s private excavation team arrives from Atlanta at zero-two-hundred hours tonight.”
“They have the high-capacity hydraulic drills.”
“They have the underground seismic radar.”
“By sunrise tomorrow, Talia, the Bromel family will no longer be mere undertakers.”
Thad bared his teeth in a slow, terrifying line of white bone:
