“But I know,” Carter continued, his voice finding a brave, inspirational tenor, “that Audrey would want me to carry on. To rebuild.”
He stepped down from the podium to polite, sympathetic applause. He walked toward the center of the altar, where a small mahogany table had been set up. Standing behind it was a man in a sharp grey suit—the regional director of Apex Insurance Group. On the table rested a leather-bound folio and a beautifully printed novelty check, partially visible, bearing the staggering sum of $50,000,000.
“Mr. Carter,” the Apex representative said, his voice carrying through the quiet cathedral. “On behalf of Apex Group, we extend our deepest condolences. If you will just sign the final settlement release form, the funds will be wired to your accounts within the hour.”
Carter nodded bravely. He picked up the heavy gold pen. His hand hovered over the paper. The moment of his absolute, unearned victory.
I looked up at Arthur. He gave a single, sharp nod.
I pushed against the heavy iron handles.
With a deafening CRACK that sounded like a gunshot in the cavernous acoustic space, the heavy oak doors violently burst open, crashing against the stone walls. A massive gust of freezing winter wind howled into the cathedral, snuffing out a dozen memorial candles in an instant.
The collective gasp from the congregation sounded like all the oxygen being sucked out of the room. Heads whipped around.
I stepped over the threshold.
I didn’t skulk. I walked down the center aisle with the slow, measured pace of an executioner. My black maternity gown billowed slightly around my heavy, proud belly. I held my head high, the harsh, multicolored light from the stained glass illuminating the brutal, jagged red scar tearing across my face. And beside me, marching in perfect lockstep, was Arthur Harrison, radiating a quiet, lethal authority.
The murmurs began—a wave of shock, horror, and confusion washing over the pews.
“Is that…?”
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