Chapter 14
187words
People in black mourning clothes entered, carrying my portrait draped in black ribbon and white funeral flowers.
Behind them walked a priest intoning prayers. The room fell into stunned silence.
Guests' eyes darted between my somber memorial portrait and the joyful wedding photos displayed around the hall.
Wilson lunged forward, snatching the portrait and smashing it to the ground, shattering the silence.
"Goddammit, James! I told you to get rid of them! Why are they still here?!"
James rushed over, face pale, but before he could explain, one of the funeral directors stepped forward.
"Mr. Spencer, we're deeply sorry for your loss.
We're simply doing our job as requested. Please understand."
As he finished speaking, the funeral dirge resumed, punctuated by professional mourners' cries.
Wilson's face darkened to something inhuman. He grabbed the funeral director by the throat, teeth bared.
"My wife isn't dead, you understand me? She's NOT DEAD! This is all a misunderstanding—a joke between us!"
The man merely looked at Wilson with the practiced sympathy reserved for the grief-stricken in denial, shaking his head sadly.
