Chapter 4 - The View from the Shadows
Seven days later, I stood in the heavy shade of an oak tree across the street from Saint Jude’s Episcopal Church in Denver.
I wore a floor-length black wool coat, a wide-brimmed hat, and a heavy lace veil that obscured my face entirely. Beside me stood Dominic, looking like an iron monument in his dark suit. Two of his security personnel sat in an idling black SUV parked at the curb behind us.
Through the rain-streaked windows of the chapel, I could see the polished walnut casket sitting beneath a blanket of white lilies.
Empty.
Every rose, every candle, every tear shed in that room was a monument to a fraud.
I watched through long-range binoculars as Michael stood by the altar. He wore a tailor-made charcoal suit, his head bowed in a picture-perfect display of devastated grief. Ashley stood two steps behind him, dressed in modest black, holding a folder of 'corporate documents' that I knew contained the expedited claim forms for the $50 million policy.
Then I saw my father.
Thomas Vance sat in the front row, his shoulders stooped, his face gray and hollow. He held a small silver rattle—the one he had bought for my baby girl two weeks ago. He was weeping silently, his hand trembling as he reached out to touch the side of the casket.
My hand clutched Dominic’s arm so tightly my knuckles turned white.
"I can't do this," I sobbed under my breath, the veil shaking against my face. "Dominic, look at him. My father thinks I’m inside that box. Let me go to him."
Dominic didn't pull away. He let me lean into his side, his large hand coming up to gently steady my shoulder.
"Look at Michael, Emily," Dominic whispered in my ear, his voice low and steady. "Look at his hands."
I raised the binoculars again and adjusted the focus on my husband.
Michael wasn't crying. His head was down, but his fingers were actively tapping against his thigh in a rhythmic, impatient sequence. He was counting down the minutes until the service ended so he could meet the insurance adjuster in the side office.
"He didn't just try to kill you," Dominic whispered, his chest warm against my back. "He tried to erase your daughter. If you step out there now without the legal trap sprung, his lawyers will tie you up in court, claim you’re mentally unstable from pregnancy complications, and walk away with his assets intact. We finish this properly."
Across the aisle, Michael leaned back toward Ashley. Through the high-powered lens, I read his lips clearly: Is the wire transfer ready?
Ashley gave him a subtle, almost imperceptible nod.
May you like
"They're filing the claim today," I said, cold fury suddenly rushing through my veins, washing away the tears.
"The adjuster is waiting at his office right now," Dominic confirmed, a cold, dark smile touching the corner of his lips. "And we are going to crash his victory party."
