Ryan stepped out of his car, standing quietly in front of the church. His chest felt heavy. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to his father. “We couldn’t even give Dad a proper funeral,” he thought, frustration and sadness swirling inside him.
Suddenly, a loud bark made him jump.
“Bella?” he turned to look at his dog, who was inside the car. She was barking wildly and scratching at the window.
“Bella!” he said firmly and gave her a hand signal to lie down. She obeyed but kept whining, clearly agitated. Ryan patted her head gently through the open window. “Now stay, Bella,” he whispered.
Trying to ignore her strange behavior, Ryan turned and walked into the church. The funeral had already started. His father Arnold’s casket was placed near the altar. It was closed and surrounded by flowers, but the funeral director had made sure to keep a rope around it—Arnold had died of an infectious disease, so they were taking extra precautions.
Ryan quietly took a seat beside his mother, who was silently crying. Because of the infection, his father was going to be cremated, not buried.
The priest gave a calm and respectful sermon. But just as the mass was ending and the final hymn began, a sound broke through the quiet church like a bolt of lightning.
BARK! BARK! BARK!
Everyone turned to see Bella racing down the aisle. She leapt onto the casket, knocking the flower arrangement to the floor, and began barking like crazy.
People gasped. Some screamed. Ryan’s heart started pounding.
Bella suddenly stopped and sat on the floor in front of the casket, ears perked, body tense. She looked straight at Ryan with her sharp, alert eyes.
Something was wrong. Ryan felt it in his bones.
“Open the casket!” he shouted.
A stunned silence fell across the room.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd as Ryan rushed forward. Without waiting for permission, he unclipped the latches and flung open the casket.
Empty.
The coffin was completely empty.
“Wh–Where’s my brother?” Ryan’s uncle demanded, spinning to face the funeral director.
Gasps turned to panic. Some people stepped back, others whispered nervously. Ryan’s mother gave a soft moan, her eyes rolling back. Her knees buckled.
“Mom!” Ryan caught her just before her head hit the hard marble floor. Without thinking, he picked her up in his arms and ran out the church.
He drove straight to the hospital, where doctors took her in for observation. They said she’d need to stay overnight.
Back at his mother’s house, Ryan paced the living room. Bella sat by the door, still unsettled. He picked up his phone and dialed the police.
Detective Bradshaw arrived soon after.
“At this point, all we know is that the coroner confirmed the cause of death and released the remains to the funeral home,” the detective explained. “Was your father involved in anything… unusual? Any activities I should know about?”
Ryan hesitated. He hadn’t been involved in his father’s company since he opened his own dog training center. But still—his father, Arnold, was always careful. He would never do anything shady.
After getting no solid leads, Detective Bradshaw promised to keep investigating. But Ryan didn’t want to wait around. His mother was in the hospital. Bella was at home, safe. Now it was time to get answers.
He drove straight to the city morgue.
“What do you mean the coroner resigned?” he asked, confused. “Who’s the new coroner?”
“There isn’t one yet,” the nurse at the front desk replied with a shrug.
Ryan asked to see his father’s file, but the nurse shook her head. “That’s against our policy.”
He glanced around the room, then pulled out his wallet and placed $1000 on the counter.
The nurse looked at it. Then she looked away.
Taking the hint, Ryan slipped past the counter and snuck into the coroner’s office. He searched the shelves one by one, heart racing.
Nothing. His father’s file was missing.
Frustrated, he pulled out his phone when it buzzed. It was a call from his father’s lawyer, Mr. Stevens.
“I need to see you urgently,” Mr. Stevens said. “You’re the new CEO of Arnold’s company.”
Still stunned, Ryan drove to the office. He sat at his father’s desk and opened Arnold’s email on the computer. But there was nothing. Every message had been deleted.
“Ryan! Good to see you,” Mr. Stevens said as he walked in and shut the door behind him.
“Who’s been using this computer?” Ryan asked.
“Nobody,” Mr. Stevens replied quickly.
Ryan’s eyes scanned the room. “Wait… where are the dancers?”
He was talking about a pair of valuable figurines that had always sat on his father’s shelf.
“Oh, he took them home,” Mr. Stevens replied casually. “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?”
Ryan’s stomach turned. He had searched his parents’ house thoroughly. The dancers weren’t there.
Mr. Stevens sat down and leaned forward. “But anyway, we have bigger problems. We’re in serious debt. Investors are threatening to pull out because Arnold had been missing meetings for months before his… well, death.”
Ryan’s head snapped up.
“…and it all started when his new secretary joined. No offense, but I think Arnold was having an affair with her.”
Ryan clenched his fists, his mother’s devastated face flashing in his mind.
He wanted to storm into Miss Pearson’s office, but Mr. Stevens stopped him. “Let’s not ruin your father’s name any more than it already has been.”
That evening, Ryan tried to clean up some of the financial mess. He sent gift baskets and apology notes to investors.
But then he followed Miss Pearson.
He watched her drive into a quiet neighborhood and park in a garage. Ryan waited outside in his car until the sun set. Eventually, the garage door opened again, and she drove away.
Ryan acted fast. He jumped out of his car and ran into the garage just before the door closed. He found a door that led into her house and snuck inside.
In the kitchen, he found a flashlight. He didn’t turn on the lights—just in case she came home early.
When he entered the bedroom, he froze.
On the nightstand was a photo of Miss Pearson kissing Arnold.
Ryan’s jaw clenched. He didn’t cry. He didn’t scream. He just kept searching.
He checked drawers, cupboards, closets. Nothing.
But as he turned to leave, something caught his eye—a slightly open drawer in the coffee table.
Inside was a Manila envelope.
He opened it—and stared. It was a life insurance policy.
Seven million dollars.
The beneficiary? Miss Pearson.
Ryan drove straight to the police station.
Detective Bradshaw studied the document. “This is quite compelling,” she said. “Let me dig into her background. Maybe we can stop her before she disappears.”
Moments later, Detective Bradshaw came back looking tense.
“She’s booked on a flight to Morocco,” she said. “It leaves in less than thirty minutes—and Morocco doesn’t have an extradition treaty. If she boards that plane, she’s gone.”
Ryan wanted to come, but Detective Bradshaw stopped him. “You’re a civilian, Ryan.”
But he didn’t listen. He followed them anyway.
At the airport, Detective Bradshaw and her team moved through security yelling, “Police! Let us through!”
Ryan blended in with the crowd and slipped in behind them.
They reached the boarding gate. The officers spread out and started searching.
“You there! The dark-haired woman in the white shirt! Step out of the line and raise your hands!” Detective Bradshaw called out.
But when the woman turned around—it wasn’t Miss Pearson.
She had vanished.
Back to square one.
Ryan went home, heart heavy, but something inside told him—his father was still alive.
He remembered the missing figurines.
If his father had them, maybe he’d show up to get the third one. Ryan found the collector who owned the final figurine and paid him a visit.
“How much for it?” Ryan asked.
“$750,000,” said Mr. Frederick without blinking.
“That’s way above the market value.”
“Then don’t buy it. Price is non-negotiable.”
Ryan didn’t argue. He stepped outside and called Mr. Stevens.
“I need to sell $750,000 worth of my shares.”
“That means losing control of the company!”
“I know. But I have a plan. Trust me.”
Mr. Stevens sighed. “Is this about Miss Pearson?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Ryan said.
Later that night, Ryan received the transfer. He returned to Mr. Frederick.
“You asked for $750,000. I have it. Are you a man of your word?”
Mr. Frederick finally handed over the figurine.
Ryan drove home and called the auction house. He paid for a last-minute spot and made sure the auction was advertised widely. If Arnold was alive and still collecting… he’d come.
That night, Ryan stood hidden in the back of the auction room, watching. The figurine was brought forward.
As the price climbed, the bidders dropped out—until only two remained. But neither was Arnold.
Ryan felt his stomach drop.
“$600,000 going once…” the auctioneer said.
“…going twice…”
“$1 million!” a voice rang out.
Ryan froze.
He knew that voice.
He turned and saw Arnold—his father—stand up and remove his wide-brimmed hat.
“$1 million going once… twice… SOLD!”
Arnold turned to leave.
But Ryan was faster. He rushed forward and blocked the exit. Detective Bradshaw stepped in from the shadows and cuffed Arnold.
“Ryan?” Arnold looked stunned. “You tricked me! This was a trap!”
“Don’t act like I’m the bad guy!” Ryan shouted. “You faked your death to run away with your mistress! You made us mourn over an empty coffin!”
Arnold looked down, ashamed. He admitted he wanted a new life—with Miss Pearson—and had bribed the coroner to fake the death records.
Ryan stared at him, shaking with emotion.
“You always told me, ‘A man should do what’s right, not what’s easy.’ I believed that. But you didn’t. And now you’re paying the price.”
As Arnold was led to the police car, Detective Bradshaw turned to Ryan.
“We’ll catch Miss Pearson too. It’s only a matter of time.”
Ryan nodded. The truth was finally out. But he wasn’t finished yet. There were still secrets to uncover—and justice to serve.