Brandon staggered backward against a mahogany display cabinet, his lips trembling as he tried to form words that wouldn’t come out. “Phoebe… you’re… you’re dead,” he choked out, his eyes darting frantically toward the armed officers standing near the exit. “We buried you three days ago in a sealed casket.” I walked further into the living room, stepping past the shattered glass with absolute calm and poise. “That was just a rehearsal for the real thing, Brandon,” I replied, nodding toward the marshals as they stepped forward. “Except this time, you’re the one whose life is about to be buried.”
The federal agents wasted no time, stepping up to my trembling husband and clicking cold steel handcuffs firmly around his wrists. He screamed in hysterical panic, demanding to know how I survived the fall and how my father had managed to outmaneuver every single trap he set. Gretchen tried to slip quietly toward the side exit, but a second pair of officers blocked her path, presenting an arrest warrant for corporate conspiracy and fraud. The elite guests whispered in utter shock, pulling out their phones to record the sudden downfall of a man who had thought he won everything. Standing in the center of the grand room with my son safely in my arms, I finally smiled, knowing the nightmare was over and my true life was just beginning.
