Chapter 1 - The Breath of the Dead
The tapping from inside the coffin sent a paralyzing shockwave through the funeral parlor. For a second, no one breathed. Then, Elena, the young maid in the orange uniform, swung the axe one final time.
The white mahogany splintered, revealing the plush silk lining. Elena tore at the wood with her bare hands, ignoring the splinters slicing into her palms.
“Help me!” she screamed at the frozen crowd.
Two men finally snapped out of their shock and rushed forward to pry the heavy lid back. As the wood groaned and gave way, the guests gasped.
Clara Vance, the billionaire heiress everyone had gathered to mourn, was not a corpse. Her chest was barely rising, her lips blue, her eyes rolling beneath her eyelids in a desperate fight for consciousness.
“Clara!” Richard, her husband, finally lunged forward. His face was the color of ash. “Oh my god, Clara! Stand back, give her air!”
He reached into the coffin, his hands trembling as they hovered over his wife’s neck. But Elena saw it. She saw the way his fingers curled, not to check a pulse, but to press down.
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“Don't touch her!” Elena shrieked, shoving the wealthy businessman backward so hard he tripped over a floral arrangement. “Call an ambulance! Now!”
As sirens wailed in the distance, Richard locked eyes with the maid. The grieving husband routine was gone. In his eyes was the cold, calculating panic of a murderer who had just been caught.
