I Worked 18 Years for His Son, He Pushed Me Off a Roof for Her Chapter 05

I Worked 18 Years for His Son, He Pushed Me Off a Roof for Her Chapter 05

A paramedic reached Eleanor first, administering an oxygen mask and her emergency inhaler. The purple began to drain from her face almost immediately.

“Stop!” Arthur lunged at me, shoved me aside, then dropped to his knees and clawed at the cement with both hands.

Too late. The cement was already setting — hardening across the lid, filling every gap, sealing over the air holes they’d drilled into the wood.

I was on the floor where Arthur had sent me sprawling. From there, I could see it — the casket shifting, rocking, the faintest vibration shuddering through the wood. Julian was starting to panic.

“Clara! What the hell have you done? Are you out of your mind?” Martha was screaming, sweat rolling down her temples, her finger jabbing in my direction.

I laughed. It came out raw and broken, scraping up my throat until my voice cracked and my eyes burned.

“Why can’t I touch it? What are you so afraid of? Because you’ve known all along. Julian isn’t dead. He’s lying in that casket right now, breathing, waiting — and this whole funeral is a performance to trick me into raising his and Fiona’s kid!”

Silence swallowed the room. Every relative stared at me like I’d just pulled the pin on a grenade.

“Wait — Julian’s alive?”

“Did she just say the baby is Julian’s and Fiona’s?”

“What the hell is going on?”

“What kind of bastards…” Eleanor’s hands groped through the air, reaching for me. “Fiona told me Julian adopted him…”

“She lied to you, Grandma!”

“That’s insane!” Fiona’s voice went high, her eyes blazing — but something underneath them flinched. “We’re best friends — you don’t get to smear me with lies just because Julian is gone!”

I held her gaze and smiled. “Give it a few minutes. We’ll see who’s lying.”

The lead officer moved to the casket, stone-faced. He pressed his ear to the wood. Whatever he heard made his whole body go taut. He spun around.

“Quiet!” The room obeyed instantly. Every mouth shut. Every pair of eyes locked on the casket.

And in the silence, everyone heard it. Thump. Thump. Thump. Fists pounding against wood from the inside.

The air inside was almost gone. Julian finally broke. “Get me out! Fiona! Mom — get me out of here!”

The lead officer grabbed a pry bar. “Everyone back!” He swung hard, cracking into the cement.

“No, no, no, no…” Martha’s legs gave out. She hit the floor, rocking back and forth, hands twisting in her lap. “It’s over… oh God, it’s over…”

Arthur stood frozen, his back to the casket. He couldn’t even bring himself to turn around. Then — a crack that shook the floor.

The officers wrenched the lid free. A hand shot out — strong, very much alive — and gripped the edge. Julian hauled himself upright.

“Mom!” The word died on his lips. He looked up and found every face in the room staring back at him — horrified. Then he saw the officer.

Julian let out a strangled yell, rolled his eyes back, and collapsed — trying to play dead for real this time. “Julian!” Martha scrambled to the casket. Arthur was right behind her.

In the chaos, Fiona bolted for the door. I stuck my foot out. She went down face-first, hitting the floor so hard the crack echoed — and she came up spitting pieces of her front teeth onto the floor.

“Fiona!” I called after her, smiling. “Don’t forget your son. Unless you don’t want him anymore?”

Hours later, the precinct was packed. Everyone from that funeral home had been put in an interrogation room. My injuries were minor — bruises, the split lip — except for my finger. The fracture had already been splinted and bandaged.

That was when the full picture finally came together. Fiona had someone watching Eleanor the whole time — a backup plan, ready to drag my grandmother in and use her as leverage the moment I refused.