Chapter 2
The silence in the brightly lit chapel was suffocating. The vivid colors of the floral arrangements—deep crimson roses and bright green ferns—seemed to sharpen in the tense atmosphere. Vanessa’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the handle of her luxury suitcase, her oversized sunglasses slipping entirely off her head and clattering onto the marble floor.
Daniel took a step toward the altar, his jaw tight. The panic in his fair, handsome face was quickly being buried beneath a sudden, sharp anger. He raised one hand toward Emma in a frantic, placating gesture, desperate to maintain the pristine Carter family image in front of the gathered elite. The bright yellow St. Lucia tag on his suitcase swung back and forth, mocking the absolute tragedy of the room.
He locked his cold blue eyes with Emma’s, his grip tightening on his luggage handle.
"Emma, not here," Daniel commanded. His voice was low, controlling, and laced with a subtle, dangerous threat. "This is a place of mourning. We can discuss the timeline of our flights later. You are upset, and you aren't thinking clearly."
"I have never thought more clearly in my entire life," Emma replied, her posture unyielding. She did not take her eyes off him.
Vanessa quickly stepped up beside Daniel. She reached up, pinching the bridge of her nose as she forced a single tear to well in her eye. She reached a trembling hand out toward Emma, her voice pitching into a desperate, pleading tone, though the fear breaking through her fake grief was palpable.
"Emma, please," Vanessa begged. "Our phones were stolen at the resort. We didn't get the messages about the accident until we reached the airport in Miami. We can explain everything. We loved Sofia."
"You loved her?" Emma asked. Her voice was devoid of tears. The grief that had hollowed her face was hardening into something terrifyingly sharp.
Emma shifted the framed portrait of her beautiful six-year-old daughter into her left hand. With her right hand, she reached into the pocket of her fitted mourning dress and pulled out her smartphone. The screen was already glowing brilliantly in the cool-neutral daylight of the chapel.
She held the phone up high, turning the bright, vivid screen outward for Daniel, Vanessa, and the front row of mourners to see.
The video played in a continuous, damning loop. The high-definition footage was unmistakably clear. It showed Daniel and Vanessa in the sunlit, airy hallway of the Carter estate. It showed Vanessa raising her hand and violently slapping Sofia across her rosy cheek. It showed Daniel grabbing the weeping six-year-old by her arms and forcefully carrying her out of the frame while the child kicked and screamed in terror.
Daniel and Vanessa both turned deathly pale. The rosy flush of their tropical vacation vanished entirely.
"Where did you get that?" Daniel choked out, his voice a hoarse whisper.
May you like
Emma ignored his question. She kept her terrifyingly controlled gaze locked directly on the couple.
"Bury Sofia first," Emma stated, every word falling like an iron gavel in the silent, brightly lit chapel. "Then tell the police what else you two tried to bury."
