UNTIL MY DYING CALL UNCOVERED A DEADLY CONSPIRACY THAT WOULD COST THEM EVERYTHING.

Tactical officers in full tactical gear poured into the chapel, assault rifles leveled, their shouts echoing like thunder through the sanctuary.

"Down on the ground! All of you, down on the ground right now!"

Ethan didn't even attempt to resist. He dropped to his knees, burying his face in the carpet, sobbing hysterically as an agent wrenched his arms behind his back and snapped steel cuffs around his wrists.

Diane was dragged up from the pew, her designer sunglasses falling to the floor and crunching beneath an officer's boot.

"Do you know who I am?!" Diane shrieked, her voice cracking with wild outrage. "My brother is on the state appellate bench! Take your hands off me, you animals! Ethan, tell them! Tell them this is a mistake!"

"Diane Vance," a calm, authoritative voice projected over her screaming.

Special Agent David Vance—no relation to us, a senior agent with the FBI's financial crimes division—stepped through the shattered doors, accompanied by my father. Agent Vance held a stack of federal warrants.

"You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder, federal wire fraud, insurance fraud, and unlawful procurement of controlled toxic substances," Agent Vance read with bureaucratic dispassion. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

Beside the doors, Jennifer was already on the floor, weeping quietly, offering no resistance as two agents secured her hands. She looked up at Ethan, her face twisted with a mixture of terror and venomous hatred.

"You told me she was weak," Jennifer spat at Ethan, her voice trembling. "You told me she would just slip away quietly in her sleep!"

"Shut up, Jennifer!" Ethan screamed from the carpet, struggling against the agent pinning his shoulder. "Don't say another word without my lawyer!"

"Your lawyer won't be able to help you, Ethan," my father said, walking slowly down the center aisle.

Ethan froze at the sound of my dad's voice. He lifted his head from the floor, his eyes wild. "Arthur... Arthur, please! Talk to them! Claire is alive! If she’s alive, it’s not murder! It's just a misunderstanding!"

Dad stopped beside Ethan. He looked down at him not with anger, but with the cold, detached pity one reserves for a squashed insect.

"Attempted murder carrying a federal predicate carries twenty-five to life in Marion, Ethan," Dad said quietly. "And Dr. Sterling turned state's evidence three hours ago. He handed over your text messages, the bank transfers, and the original toxicology lab results."

Ethan’s face went slack. All the air left his lungs.

"Stand him up," Agent Vance ordered.

As they hauled Ethan to his feet, his eyes locked onto mine. He looked broken, pathetic, his expensive suit disheveled, snot running down his upper lip. "Claire... you can't let them do this to me. We're married. For better or for worse..."

"You chose the 'worse' the second you put rat poison in my tea, Ethan," I said, my voice dead and cold.

I reached out, unclasped the five-carat diamond engagement ring from my left finger, and dropped it into his breast pocket.

"Rest in peace, Ethan," I whispered.

The agents dragged him out of the chapel, his boots scraping against the marble floor as he began to wail. Diane followed, still screaming threats about judges and lawsuits, until the back doors of the transport van slammed shut, cutting off her voice forever.

Marcus walked up beside me, handing me a bottle of water. "You okay?"

I looked around the empty chapel. The lilies still smelled sickeningly sweet, but for the first time in four months, I could breathe without my chest burning.