My family’s legacy.
Harrison had not merely betrayed me as a friend.
He and Victoria had decided to erase me and divide everything I had built.
Part Three: The Brother I Pushed Away
As the coffin was moved, wheels rattled beneath me.
Every bump sent a helpless jolt through my mind.
I tried to focus on anything that might keep panic from overwhelming me.
That was when I thought of my younger brother, Owen.
Owen should have been at the funeral.
But I hadn’t heard his voice.
We had once been inseparable.
As boys, we spent summers racing through the old barrel houses, hiding behind rows of oak casks while our father pretended not to find us.
When our parents died, I took control of the company.
Owen wanted a simpler life. He became a mechanical engineer and moved to Cincinnati.
Victoria never liked him.
She said he resented my success.
She said he was always asking questions about the company because he wanted money.
She said I needed to set boundaries.
Gradually, I stopped returning his calls.
Our last conversation had ended badly.
“You don’t sound like yourself anymore,” Owen had told me.
“I’m tired of your judgment.”
“I’m not judging you. I’m worried.”
“Then stop.”
That had been six months ago.
Now I would have given everything I owned just to hear his voice.
The coffin stopped moving.
A vehicle door slammed.
I heard Victoria speaking to someone outside.
“My husband was very private. He wanted a direct cremation after the family service.”
That was a lie.
My family had been buried for generations in the cemetery behind Blackridge Manor.
I had never wanted to be cremated.
Victoria knew that.
But fire destroyed evidence.
And fire could silence a man who was not yet dead.
The vehicle began moving.
Each turn made my body shift slightly against the satin lining.
I fought to move one finger.
Nothing.
I tried to blink.
Nothing.
I tried to control my breathing.
The breaths came so shallowly that I could barely feel them.
Somewhere beyond the coffin walls, traffic passed.
People were driving to work.
Buying coffee.
Complaining about the weather.
And I was traveling toward a furnace while my wife sat beside me pretending to mourn.
Part Four: The Final Goodbye
The ride ended sooner than I expected.
Doors opened.
The coffin rolled down a ramp.
The air changed. I could no longer smell the chapel’s flowers or polished wood.
Instead, I smelled metal, dust, and heat.
A crematorium employee spoke in a respectful tone.
“Mrs. Cole, would you like one final private moment before we proceed?”
“Yes,” Victoria said. “Dr. Vance is family. I’d like him to stay.”
The employee hesitated.
“Of course.”
A door closed.
Once again, I was alone with the two people who had tried to kill me.
Victoria released a breath.
“I hated that service.”
“You were convincing,” Harrison said.
“I had to be. Half the company board was watching me.”
