I climbed out of the car and stood outside the church, knowing I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to my father. We couldn’t even give Dad a proper funeral, I thought bitterly. Just then, Bella’s sharp bark snapped me out of my thoughts.
I turned back toward the car. Bella was far more agitated than usual, pacing and whining.
“Bella!” I gave her the hand signal to lie down, and she obeyed instantly. I leaned through the open window and patted her head. “Now, stay, Bella.”
She let out a low whine as I closed the door and walked away, but I ignored it and headed into the church.
My father Arnold’s casket was already in place at the front, sealed shut. Because he had died of an infectious disease, the funeral director had discreetly cordoned off the immediate area. I took my seat beside my mother. Given the circumstances, Arnold would be cremated rather than buried.
The mass was nearly over. As the mourners rose to sing the final hymn, Bella’s bark suddenly echoed through the church.
Before anyone could react, she burst inside, leaped onto the casket, knocked the flower arrangement to the floor, and began barking furiously.
When she finally dropped down and sat in her alert position, staring straight at me, I felt it in my gut—something was wrong.
“Open the casket!” I demanded.
A collective gasp rippled through the room, but I didn’t care. I walked straight to the front and opened it.
It was empty.
“Wh-Where’s my brother?” my uncle demanded, staring at the funeral director in disbelief.
My mother couldn’t take it. Her eyes rolled back, her knees buckled, and she collapsed. I caught her just in time before her head hit the marble floor and rushed her to the hospital.
Later, at my mother’s house, I called the police.
“At this point, all we know is that the coroner confirmed the cause of death and released the remains to the funeral home,” Detective Bradshaw told me. “Was your father involved in any activities I should be aware of?”
I hadn’t been involved in my father’s business since opening my dog training and rehabilitation center, but I knew Arnold would never risk his reputation—or the company’s.
With no solid leads, Detective Bradshaw left, promising updates. But I couldn’t wait. My mom was staying overnight at the hospital. I left Bella at home and went straight to the morgue.
“The coroner resigned? What about the new coroner?” I asked, stunned.
The nurse explained there was no replacement yet. When I requested my father’s file, she refused—policy.
I knew how to change her mind.
I placed $1000 on the counter. Moments later, she turned a blind eye as I slipped into the coroner’s office. I searched every shelf, but it was pointless. Arnold’s file was gone.
My phone buzzed. It was my father’s lawyer, Mr. Stevens. He told me I was now the CEO of Arnold’s company and needed to see me immediately.
At my father’s office, I opened his Gmail—only to find the inbox completely empty.
“Ryan! Good to see you,” Mr. Stevens said as he entered and closed the door behind him.
“Who’s been using this computer?” I asked.
“Nobody,” he replied.
“Wait—where are the dancers?” I asked, noticing two figurines missing.
“Oh, he took them home. Poor Arnold…he could never get the third figurine in the set. Can you believe the man who owns it won’t accept anything less than half a million?” Mr. Stevens said.
I knew my father hadn’t taken them home. I’d searched the house thoroughly.
“But anyway, we have more important matters to discuss…”
Mr. Stevens explained the company was drowning in debt. Investors were threatening to pull out because Arnold had missed meetings for months.
“…and it all started when his new secretary began working here. With all due respect to Arnold and his family, I believe he was having a romantic relationship with her.”
Anger surged through me, but Mr. Stevens stopped me from confronting her. It would damage Arnold’s reputation.
I spent the day stabilizing the company and sending gift baskets to key investors. That evening, I followed the secretary—Miss Pearson—to her modest suburban home and waited.
Later, her garage door opened. She drove away. I jumped from my car and slipped into the garage just before the door closed.
Inside her house, I found a flashlight. In her bedroom, a photo stopped me cold—her kissing Arnold.
I forced myself to stay focused. Then I noticed a half-open drawer.
Inside was a Manila envelope.
A $7 million life insurance policy.
The sole beneficiary: Miss Pearson.
At the station, Detective Bradshaw studied the document. “This is quite compelling…”
Miss Pearson was headed to Morocco—no extradition treaty.
“Since the US has no extradition treaty with the Moroccan government, it’s vital we bring her in for questioning before she boards the plane!”
I followed despite being told not to.
“Police!” Detective Bradshaw shouted at the gate.
But Miss Pearson wasn’t there.
She was gone.
Still, I knew my father was alive. The figurines weren’t at home.
I tracked down the collector.
“So…how much will you take for it?”
“$750,000.”
“That’s far above the market value.”
“Then don’t buy it.”
I sold my shares.
“You won’t have a controlling stake!”
“I’m aware.”
“As a longtime family friend…is this related to Miss Pearson?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
When the money arrived, I bought the figurine.
At the auction house, the price climbed.
“$600,000 going once…”
“…going twice…”
“$1 million!”
My father stood.
“$1 million going once…sold!”
I blocked his exit.
Detective Bradshaw cuffed him.
“Ryan? You tricked me!”
“Don’t act like I’ve committed some terrible betrayal, Dad! You’re the one who had an affair and faked your own death so you could run off with your mistress! How could you?”
He confessed everything.
“So you took out a huge amount in life insurance for your new life, bribed the coroner to falsify your death certificate and cause of death, and had all of us gather around an empty casket to mourn you!”
“‘A man should do what is right, not follow his own selfish interests.’ You taught me that, Dad…”
Arnold was taken away.
And the truth finally followed him.
