“If you’re hearing this at my funeral,” he said, “my mother has already blamed Elena for the crime she and Grant committed.”
Vivian stumbled backward.
And Noah’s thumb moved toward the next recording.
Part 2
The voice echoing through the vaulted ceiling of the chapel did not belong to a memory. It was heavy, resonant, and entirely undeniable.
“If you’re hearing this at my funeral, my mother has already blamed Elena for the crime she and Grant committed. They didn’t expect me to look at the secondary ledger. They didn’t expect me to trace the wire transfers back to the offshore shell company registered under Grant’s college pseudonym.”
Vivian staggered, her manicured hand flying to her throat as if to pry invisible fingers away. Her pearls, which had gleamed with such righteous arrogance moments before, now looked like cheap plastic beads rattling against her collarbone.
