Chapter 4 - The Mock Mourning: Watching My Own Lavish Funeral from Behind Black Veil and Rain
Five days later, the memorial service for Valerie and Mason Sterling was held at the historic St. Jude’s Episcopal Cathedral overlooking the bay.
Because no bodies had been recovered from the turbulent Atlantic outlet, two pristine, empty mahogany caskets draped in white calla lilies and maritime flags sat upon the altar.
The morning sky was heavy with dark, weeping clouds, a cold autumn rain sweeping across the manicured lawns of the cemetery. Hundreds of prominent figures—state senators, naval admirals, shipyard union leaders, and high-society elites—filled the pews to pay their respects to the last surviving heirs of the legendary Sterling dynasty.
High up in the cathedral’s organ loft, concealed behind the heavy velvet privacy curtains and the shadow of the massive brass pipes, Mason and I sat in silence.
I was completely transformed. My long chestnut hair had been cut into a sharp, chin-length jet-black bob, hidden beneath a wide-brimmed mourning hat with a thick French lace veil. My hazel eyes were disguised by dark contact lenses, and a tailored charcoal coat altered my silhouette entirely.
Through a pair of compact birding binoculars, I looked down at the front pew.
Julian Vance sat in the place of the chief mourner. His performance was nothing short of Oscar-worthy. He kept his head bowed, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs as the bishop read the eulogy. But whenever the congregation stood for hymns, Julian’s eyes flicked discreetly toward the rear of the church, exchanging brief, triumphant glances with Victor Morales, who sat in the fourth row wearing a bespoke Italian suit.
Next to Julian sat Chloe. Her handkerchief was constantly at her eyes, but her posture was that of a queen waiting for her coronation. Underneath her black wool cape, she wore my mother’s sapphire brooch pinned directly over her heart.
“Look at her,” Mason whispered into my earpiece, his voice laced with venom. “She couldn't even wait until the will was read to raid your jewelry safe.”
“Let her wear it,” I replied coldly. “The higher she climbs, the harder she will hit the pavement.”
At the conclusion of the service, Julian walked up to the marble pulpit to deliver his farewell address.
“Valerie was the light of my life,” Julian spoke, his voice echoing through the vaulted stone arches. “She gave everything to this city, to her brother, and to me. Mason was more than a brother-in-law; he was a testament to courage in the face of tragedy. Losing them both in one cruel afternoon has left a void in my heart that will never heal. But I promise you, Valerie, my love... as long as I draw breath, your name will never be forgotten. The Sterling name will rise again under our care.”
The pews erupted in soft weeping and approving murmurs. Society ladies dabbed their eyes with lace napkins, whispering about what a devoted, tragic widower Julian was.
As the casket bearers lifted the empty mahogany boxes to carry them to the family mausoleum, Julian and Chloe walked down the center aisle side by side.
As they passed within twenty feet of the organ loft stairs, Chloe leaned slightly toward Julian and whispered something behind her veil.
Mason zoomed the directional parabolic microphone in on their coordinates. The audio feed piped directly into my earpiece.
“Did the probate lawyer confirm the accelerated timeline?” Chloe murmured under the cover of the organ music.
“Everything is set,” Julian replied out of the side of his mouth, his tone completely flat and devoid of grief. “The emergency board meeting is scheduled for tomorrow morning at nine. With Valerie and Mason officially declared deceased in absentia, your emergency succession petition will pass unanimously. By noon tomorrow, the fifty-million-dollar defense line of credit will be unlocked.”
“And Morales?” Chloe whispered.
“His container ship enters dock four on Thursday midnight,” Julian whispered back. “Once the cargo is transferred, we wire thirty million to our Zurich account and leave for Monaco next month. Just keep crying for the cameras until the press conference is over.”
Chloe gave a barely perceptible nod, a smirk touching the corner of her lips beneath the black lace.
I gripped the wooden railing of the organ loft until my knuckles turned white.
May you like
“They think they have four days until the transfer,” I said to Mason as the mourners filed out into the rain.
“Then we have seventy-two hours to completely dismantle their empire from the inside out,” Mason replied, closing his tactical tablet. “Come on. It’s time for Evelyn Vance to make her debut.”
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