Chapter 2 - The Vance FamilyJulian Vance came running from the second row.
Twenty-five years old, impeccably dressed, and carrying the polished confidence of a man born into privilege, Julian looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine.
But beneath the expensive tuxedo was a young man who had spent his entire life obeying his grandmother.
“Chloe! What the hell are you doing?”
He grabbed the axe.
Chloe fought back.
“You don't know what's inside!”
“Let go!”
“No!”
Their struggle sent another shower of splinters across the marble altar.
Julian finally looked at the broken casket.
Something about Chloe's expression stopped him.
She wasn't acting like a disturbed child.
She looked terrified.
Terrified—but certain.
Across the sanctuary, Eleanor Vance watched without moving.
Her face remained composed.
Only her fingers betrayed her.
They were trembling.
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Because Eleanor knew something Julian didn't.
David Vance had never been inside that coffin.
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