Chapter 3
"Open this casket fully, or I will smash the hinges myself," Christian warned the funeral director, his grey slacks rustling as he stood up and squared his shoulders.
The funeral director looked back and forth between Christian's terrifying glare and Eleanor's panicked, furious expression, hesitating before slowly reaching for the brass latches. With a sharp click, the upper half of the casket lid swung open wide, flooding the interior with overhead light.
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Clara gasped—a sudden, ragged intake of air that tore through her throat as her eyes flew open wide. She clutched the edge of the satin lining, her pale blue silk maternity dress shifting as she fought desperately for oxygen.
"Christian..." she breathed out, her voice trembling and weak from whatever paralytic sedative had nearly buried her alive. "They... they put me in here..."
