The cathedral speakers crackled, and Serena’s voice filled the vaulted room.
“Is the offshore account ready?”
A ripple of shock moved through the pews.
Serena stood beside the altar in a fitted black dress, one hand gripping the edge of a wooden chair.
The color had drained from her face.
Victor remained frozen over the settlement papers, staring at the phone inside the evidence bag as though it had betrayed him.
The recording continued beneath the sound of mountain wind.
Victor’s voice came next, relaxed and unmistakable.
“It will be ready as soon as Cross Atlantic releases the money.”
“And Elena?” Serena asked.
“She will not be a problem after tonight.”
The guests who had spent the morning whispering condolences now turned toward Victor.
His mother lowered her eyes.
Two of his business partners stepped away from the altar as if guilt might be contagious.
Victor finally moved.
He lunged toward the agent holding the phone.
Two federal officers caught him before he crossed the marble floor.
“This is fabricated,” he shouted.
“That recording is fake.
She planned this with Adrian Cross because she wanted my money.”
I almost laughed.
Even after seeing me alive, Victor still believed confidence could overpower evidence.
The lead agent, Mara Bennett, placed the phone beside his signed settlement certification.
“This device was recovered from your vehicle under a federal warrant,” she said.
“The original file was automatically uploaded to your cloud account at 11:42 p.m.
Forensic analysis found no alteration.”
Victor’s eyes darted toward Serena.
She shook her head before he spoke.
“No,” she whispered.
“Do not blame me.”
He pointed at her immediately.
“She arranged everything.
She told me about the policy.
She made the account.”
Serena stared at him.
Less than an hour earlier, she had walked into the cathedral holding his arm, wearing my bracelet, and accepting condolences meant for a dead woman.
Now Victor was offering her to the federal agents before the first handcuff had closed.
“You said we would be together,” she said.
Victor’s expression hardened.
“I barely know you.”
The cruelty of it silenced even Serena.
Agent Bennett opened the black folder Adrian had placed on the altar.
The first document was the policy amendment Victor had submitted three weeks before the attack.
My signature appeared at the bottom, but a handwriting expert had already confirmed it was forged.
The second document showed the offshore account Victor and Serena had opened through a shell company registered in Delaware.
The third contained messages recovered from Serena’s deleted chat history.
Victor: The storm is coming Thursday.
Serena: What about the baby?
Victor: Same problem.
Same solution.
A woman in the front pew began to cry.
She was Victor’s aunt, one of the few relatives who had ever treated me with warmth.
At family dinners, she had noticed the way Victor corrected everything I said and kept my bank cards in his wallet.
She had asked me twice whether I felt safe.
Both times, I had lied.
