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Chapter 2: The Ring That Shouldn't Exist The chapel remained frozen. No one dared breathe. The maid's trembling fingers hovered inches above the pale hand inside the coffin. The gold wedding band gleamed beneath the candlelight, unmistakable in its design—a thick band of brushed gold engraved with a tiny family crest. She had polished that ring every morning for three years. There was no mistake. It belonged to Richard Ashcroft. The lead mourner. Richard stumbled backward, his polished shoes scraping across the marble floor. "Impossible..." he muttered, his voice cracking for the first time that day. The guests exchanged confused glances. "What does she mean?" someone whispered. The maid slowly stood, never taking her eyes off Richard. "I know that ring," she said quietly. Richard forced a laugh that sounded painfully hollow. "You're hysterical. Step away from the coffin." Instead, she reached inside and gently lifted the woman's hand higher for everyone to see. "There is only one ring like this." The chapel erupted into murmurs. Richard's best friend stepped forward. "Richard... why is your wedding ring on her hand?" Richard instinctively looked at his own left hand. Bare. His face turned ghost white. He quickly shoved his hand into his pocket. Too late. Everyone had seen. The maid looked from the ring... to Richard... then back to the woman lying inside the coffin. Something else caught her attention. A leather restraint was still fastened around the woman's wrist. Another around her ankle. Not funeral ribbons. Restraints. Someone hadn't prepared a burial. Someone had imprisoned a living woman. The maid carefully supported the woman's shoulders. "Call an ambulance!" she shouted. No one moved. Richard suddenly roared. "Nobody leaves this chapel!" His voice echoed like thunder. Security guards at the entrance hesitated. Then Richard reached inside his jacket. The room collectively held its breath. Instead of a weapon... He pulled out a phone. "Police," he said calmly. "I have a violent maid destroying my wife's funeral." Before he could press the call button— A weak voice emerged from the coffin. "...Richard..." Every head turned. The woman's eyelids fluttered open. She looked directly at him. "I remember..." Richard dropped the phone. For the first time in years... The powerful businessman looked afraid. / Chapter 1 / 2 2

Chapter 3: Buried Alive

Chapter 3: Buried Alive

The ambulance arrived alongside the police.

Paramedics rushed toward the broken coffin while officers separated the terrified guests.

The woman was still alive.

Barely.

As oxygen filled her lungs, she clutched the maid's wrist with surprising strength.

"Don't... let him near me."

Detective Emma Collins immediately noticed.

"Who?"

The woman's eyes locked onto Richard.

"My husband."

Silence crushed the chapel.

Richard laughed nervously.

"She's confused. She's been deprived of oxygen."

The detective wasn't convinced.

"What happened?"

The woman swallowed painfully.

"I found documents... proving Richard had stolen millions through fake charities."

Richard's expression hardened.

"I confronted him."

She closed her eyes, remembering.

"He drugged my tea."

Fragments returned.

The cold basement.

Hands tying her wrists.

Darkness.

The suffocating coffin.

"I woke up underground."

Several guests burst into tears.

One elderly woman nearly collapsed.

Richard slowly backed toward the chapel doors.

Detective Collins noticed immediately.

"Don't move."

He smiled.

"I'm afraid I have another appointment."

Then he ran.

The officers chased him outside as mourners screamed.

His luxury sedan sped away through the cemetery gates.

But Richard underestimated one person.

The maid.

Without hesitation, she jumped into the groundskeeper's pickup truck.

"I know where he's going."

She slammed the accelerator.

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Rain began pouring over the cemetery.

The chase had begun.

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