“Rachel, please,” our father’s voice said, sounding weak and breathless. “You do not know what you are getting into. The trust cannot be accessed this way.”

“We have no choice, Dad,” Rachel’s recorded voice answered, sharp and cold. “If we do not sign it over, they will take everything anyway.”

“It is a trap,” William gasped. “They will kill me to get to it.”

“Then sign it,” Rachel’s voice said on the tape. “Before it is too late.”

The recording cut out with a sharp click.

The chapel returned to a heavy silence.

Rachel stared at the device, her lips trembling.

“You forced his hand,” I said. “You pushed him until his heart gave out.”

“No,” Rachel said, shaking her head violently. “No, Emily, you do not understand.”

“I understand that he died forty-eight hours later,” I said. “And you vanished to Europe with a fake pedigree.”

“I did not kill him,” Rachel shouted, her voice echoing off the high stone arches.

Tears finally spilled over her cheeks, cutting clean lines through her makeup.

“I loved him,” she sobbed. “I was trying to save him.”