Chapter 2
Christian did not budge an inch. His dark wavy hair fell across his forehead as he kept his gaze locked onto his mother, his eyes burning with a sudden, lethal intensity that made Eleanor freeze in her tracks.
"Don't touch me, Eleanor," Christian whispered, his voice dangerously low and devoid of any filial warmth. "Her pulse is right there. She is breathing."
"You are hallucinating from grief, Christian! The coroner signed the death certificate yesterday morning!" Eleanor insisted, her voice rising an octave as she tried to regain control of the narrative. She gestured frantically toward the funeral director standing nervously near the door. "Get him out of here! He's desecrating his wife's memorial!"
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"Nobody moves," Christian ordered, his voice carrying the absolute authority of a man pushed past his absolute breaking point. He knelt down slowly, retrieving the small brass key from the satin lining and slipping it safely into his trouser pocket.
The white floral arrangements around the room seemed to mock the sinister reality unfolding beneath the surface. Clara’s pale eyelids twitched ever so slightly, a micro-expression of pure terror that only Christian was close enough to witness.
