Chapter 2
Chaos exploded.
A woman in a pink hat screamed so loud my ears rang.
An older man in the back row fainted, collapsing into a row of folding chairs with a loud crash.
Half the guests pulled out their phones, holding them high, recording every second.
The other half ran for the doors, tripping over each other in their expensive heels and leather shoes.
Uncle Robert’s face went white as the roses on the casket.
He stumbled back a step, letting go of my arm like I’d burned him.
“This is a trick,” he shouted, his voice cracking. “Daniel drugged him! He paid someone to dig him up—this is a sick, twisted stunt to steal the company!”
I didn’t listen to him.
I wrenched my arms free of the shocked guards, throwing my weight against them until they let go.
I scrambled to the casket, grabbing the heavy oak lid and shoving it all the way open.
It hit the back of the stand with a loud thud.
My dad pushed himself up on one elbow, his whole body shaking with the effort.
His suit was wrinkled, his skin clammy, but he was alive.
God, he was alive.
I grabbed his hand, and his fingers—cold, weak—clutched mine like I was the only thing holding him to the world.
“Easy, Dad,” I said, my own voice shaking so bad I could barely get the words out. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”
He turned his head slowly, his eyes still locked on Robert, who was now backing toward the double doors.
“Call 911,” Dad rasped, loud enough for the whole room to hear. “And call an ambulance. My brother drugged me three days ago. Locked me in my study. Paid the coroner to sign a fake death certificate.”
A collective gasp went up from the guests who’d stayed.
Sarah jumped up from the front row, her face twisted with panic.
She grabbed her designer purse off the chair, shoving the share transfer papers Robert had given me—she must have had copies—deep inside.
She tried to slip out the side door before anyone noticed her.
“Stop her,” Dad said, his voice stronger now, sharp with authority. The voice that had run a billion-dollar company for thirty years. “Don’t let either of them leave this room.”
Two of my dad’s old bodyguards—men who’d worked for him since I was a kid, who Robert had “reassigned” three days prior—stepped forward.
They’d been lingering in the back, watching, not believing the lies either.
One blocked the double doors in front of Robert.
The other cut Sarah off before she could reach the side exit, grabbing her arm gently but firmly.
She screamed, kicking at him, calling him a thief, a brute, every name she could think of.
He didn’t flinch.
Mr. Hale, the lawyer, was still standing by the wall, his face ashen.
He looked from Dad, alive and furious in the casket, to Robert, cornered and sweating, to me, holding my dad’s hand like it was a lifeline.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket, his hands shaking so bad he almost dropped it.
“I’ll call 911,” he said, his voice small. “And the ambulance. Right now.”
Robert laughed. It was a sharp, ugly sound, no humor in it at all.
“You think anyone will believe you?” he spat at Dad. “You were dead! The coroner signed the papers! Everyone saw you in the ground—well, almost. You think a jury will buy this little resurrection act? They’ll lock Daniel up for sure. And you? You’ll be declared incompetent. I’ll still run the company.”
Dad didn’t answer him.
He just looked at me, his eyes softening for the first time.
“You remembered the code,” he said, like it was the most important thing in the world.
“Of course I did,” I said, tears finally spilling down my face, hot and fast. “I never forgot. I knew you wouldn’t leave me.”
He squeezed my hand.
Then he turned back to Robert, the softness gone, replaced by that cold, unforgiving rage.
“You made one mistake, Robert,” he said, his voice carrying across the silent room. “You thought I’d leave my son unprotected. You thought I’d trust you with everything I built, without safeguards. You thought wrong.”
The wail of sirens cut through the air outside, getting closer every second.
Robert’s face crumpled.
He looked at the doors, blocked by the bodyguard.
He looked at Sarah, crying and screaming in the grip of the other guard.
He looked at Dad, sitting up in his own casket, alive and ready to burn his whole life down.
For the first time all day, I saw real fear in his eyes.
Good.
He should be scared.
He’d spent three days acting like he owned everything.
Now he was about to lose it all.
The paramedics burst through the doors first, their kits in hand, their faces confused when they saw the open casket, the man sitting up inside it, the crowd of rich people staring like they’d seen a ghost.
“Which one’s the patient?” one of them asked, looking around.
I pointed at Dad.
“He’s the one,” I said. “He was drugged. He’s been without food or water for three days. Please help him.”
They rushed over, gentle but efficient, helping Dad lie back, putting an oxygen mask on his face, starting an IV in his arm.
One of them checked his pulse, his eyes widening a little.
“Vitals are weak but stable,” he said to his partner. “We need to get him to the ER now. Run a full toxicology panel.”
They wheeled the gurney over, lifting Dad carefully onto it.
He didn’t let go of my hand the whole time.
“Stay with me,” he mumbled through the oxygen mask.
“Always,” I said, walking beside the gurney as they rolled him toward the doors.
I glanced back over my shoulder just as the police walked in, their uniforms crisp, their cuffs glinting.
They walked straight to Robert, who was still standing frozen by the wall.
“Robert Carter?” the lead officer said. “You’re under arrest for suspicion of attempted murder, fraud, and conspiracy. You have the right to remain silent…”
Robert started yelling, thrashing as they cuffed him, but I didn’t stay to listen.
I followed the paramedics out into the warm Dallas night, the sirens wailing, my dad’s hand still in mine.
For the first time in three days, I could breathe.
But I knew the fight was far from over.
May you like
Robert wouldn’t go down easy.
And neither would Sarah.
