Chapter 2 - The Signature That Wasn’t Hers
Nia reached for the document.
Vincent moved first.
He bent toward the floor.
Claire stepped between them.
“Don’t touch anything.”
Vincent straightened.
“It’s private family paperwork.”
Claire stared at him.
“There is a living man in a coffin.”
Her voice remained controlled, which somehow made the accusation more severe.
“This stopped being private.”
Nia grabbed the page.
Her hands trembled as she read.
AMENDMENT TO THE HARRINGTON FAMILY REVOCABLE TRUST.
Her name appeared near the bottom.
Nia Harrington.
The signature looked like hers.
Almost.
The slant was correct.
The looping N was close.
Even the small break she usually made between the double r in Harrington had been copied.
But she had never signed it.
“What is this?”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
Edward made another strained sound.
Nia immediately turned toward him.
Claire checked his breathing.
“He needs emergency medical care now.”
She pulled out her phone.
Vincent stepped forward.
“Wait.”
Claire looked at him.
“You want me to wait?”
“He has a complicated condition. Hospitals distress him.”
Edward’s eyes burned.
Claire saw it.
“No,” she said. “You distress him.”
She dialed 911.
Vincent’s expression hardened.
Nia leaned over the coffin.
“Daddy, we’re getting you out.”
Edward blinked twice.
Claire stopped Nia before she tried lifting him.
“Don’t move him without support. We don’t know what happened before we arrived.”
Nia nodded rapidly.
She stroked Edward’s silver-gray hair.
“I’m here.”
His breathing slowed slightly.
Vincent moved toward the doorway.
Nia noticed.
“Where are you going?”
“To call our attorney.”
“No.”
Vincent stopped.
“You don’t get to leave.”
He laughed once.
It sounded unnatural.
“You think I’m going to run?”
“I don’t know what you’re capable of anymore.”
“Nia.”
“Stay where I can see you.”
He stared at her.
Their thirteen-year marriage seemed to collapse in that silence.
Sirens approached.
Vincent glanced toward the windows.
Edward noticed the movement.
Not panic.
Planning.
Police and paramedics entered minutes later.
The paramedic team carefully transferred Edward from the coffin onto a stretcher using his support cushions and stabilization techniques.
One paramedic spoke directly to him.
“Mr. Harrington, my name is Luis. I’m going to ask yes-or-no questions. Blink once for no, twice for yes. Can you understand me?”
Two blinks.
“Were you placed in that coffin against your will?”
Two blinks.
Every police officer in the room looked toward Vincent.
Vincent lifted his hands.
“This is insane.”
An officer separated him from Nia.
“Sir, come with me.”
“My father-in-law had an episode.”
Edward made a furious sound.
The officer looked at him.
Vincent continued.
“I thought he had stopped breathing. I panicked.”
Claire spoke from beside the coffin.
“That is not what you told me on the phone.”
Nia turned.
“What phone call?”
Claire’s expression tightened.
“Your husband contacted my funeral home this morning.”
Vincent went still.
Nia stared at him.
“You called a funeral home this morning?”
“He wasn’t doing well.”
“He was alive.”
“I didn’t know what would happen.”
Claire shook her head.
“That isn’t what you said.”
Everyone looked at her.
Claire continued.
“You said Mr. Harrington had died at home under physician supervision. You said the family wanted discretion and no public transport.”
Vincent’s face became rigid.
“I never said that.”
Claire held up her phone.
“I have the intake record.”
The police officer beside Vincent stepped closer.
“Sir, don’t say anything else right now.”
Vincent gave him a cold look.
“I know my rights.”
“I suggest you use them.”
As paramedics wheeled Edward toward the hallway, his gaze remained fixed on his daughter.
Nia walked beside him.
At the doorway, Edward made a strained noise.
She leaned closer.
“What is it?”
His eyes moved toward the table.
The papers.
Nia followed his gaze.
The forged trust amendment.
An officer was already placing it inside an evidence sleeve.
Edward struggled.
“Desk.”
Nia frowned.
“Your desk?”
Two blinks.
“Something’s in your desk?”
Two blinks again.
Vincent’s head turned sharply.
Nia saw it.
So did the officer guarding him.
“What’s in the desk?” Nia whispered.
Edward tried to speak.
Only one sound emerged.
“Red.”
Then exhaustion overtook him.
His head settled into the medical cushion.
Nia squeezed his hand.
“Red what?”
Edward could not answer.
The paramedics continued toward the ambulance.
Behind them, a detective arrived and began photographing the room.
The coffin.
The flowers.
The wheelchair.
The documents.
The lid.
Everything Vincent had arranged to resemble death now looked like evidence.
Nia followed Edward outside.
Before entering the ambulance, she turned back.
Vincent stood beneath the chandelier between two officers.
For years, he had been elegant, composed, persuasive.
Now he looked almost ordinary.
Almost.
Then his eyes shifted toward the second-floor hallway.
Toward Edward’s private office.
Nia remembered her father’s word.
Red.
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And suddenly she understood something terrifying.
Whatever Edward wanted her to find, Vincent knew about it too.
