Chapter 9 - The Direct Order
Denise let out a strangled shriek. “You monster! You want to throw my son in an unmarked ditch?”
“No, Denise,” I said, my voice dead and cold. “I am choosing a direct, basic cremation. No wake. No mahogany casket. No catered reception for two hundred people. No white doves.”
Elena burst into loud, choking sobs. “You can’t do that! We planned his celebration! We promised him!”
“You promised him?” I challenged, turning my eyes on her like twin gun barrels. “With what money, Elena? Did you plan to pay for it using the life insurance Aaron assigned to you eight months ago?”
Elena froze, her wet eyes darting toward Craig in sheer terror.
Craig took a step back, suddenly sweating through his tailored shirt. Denise frowned, looking between Elena and Craig with sudden confusion.
“What life insurance?” Denise asked, her voice cracking with the first hint of genuine doubt. “Aaron’s policy was meant to reimburse the family for his debts!”
I let out a harsh, bitter laugh that echoed through the quiet conference room.
“You didn’t know, Denise?” I asked, relishing the look of pure shock rippling across her face. “You thought you and Craig were pulling the strings? Aaron didn't leave the million-dollar policy to you, or to his family estate. He named Elena as the sole, irrevocable beneficiary.”
Denise turned on Elena, her motherly affection vanishing in a split second, replaced by ferocious greed. “Elena! Is that true? Did Aaron change the policy without telling us?”
Elena cowered, clutching the emerald necklace tightly. “Denise, wait... he said... he told me it was for the apartment and the baby!”
The room went completely dead silent.
Even the air conditioner seemed to cut out.
“The baby?” Denise whispered, her eyes dropping to Elena’s flat stomach.
“I’m eleven weeks pregnant,” Elena sobbed, covering her face. “Aaron was going to tell you next week. He was going to file for divorce on Friday!”
I looked at the four of them—the grieving mother who only cared about appearances and control, the brother who had facilitated a web of lies, and the mistress who was carrying the future heir to a fortune that didn't exist.
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“Mr. Henderson,” I said quietly to the petrified funeral director. “Aaron’s remains will be transferred to the county crematorium tomorrow morning at 8:00 AM. I will claim the ashes. If any of these people attempt to set foot on the property, have them arrested for trespassing.”
I walked out of Serenity Pines while Denise’s furious screams at Elena tore through the heavy wood doors.
