The first sound I heard at my children’s funeral was my husband laughing. It was a low, careless laugh from the back of the chapel, where Daniel stood beside his mistress while our twins lay in two white coffins no longer than my arms.
Every head turned. Daniel did not look ashamed. He adjusted his black tie, leaned close enough for me to smell whiskey, and hissed, “God took them because He knew what kind of mother you were.”
My knees nearly folded. I gripped the edge of Lily’s coffin and whispered, “Please—just be quiet today.”
His palm struck my face.
The blow spun me sideways. My temple hit the polished wood with a hollow crack that made the mourners gasp. Daniel caught my hair, bent toward my ear, and murmured, “Speak again, and you’ll join them.”
His mistress, Vanessa, watched with a faint smile.
Then the chapel doors opened.
Two detectives entered with three uniformed officers. Behind them came my attorney, Evelyn Shaw, carrying a sealed evidence box. Daniel released me so quickly that I almost fell.
Detective Ruiz raised his badge. “Daniel Mercer and Vanessa Cole, you are under arrest for conspiracy, insurance fraud, and two counts of first-degree murder.”
The room erupted.
Daniel stared at me. “What did you do?”
I touched the blood at my temple and met his eyes. “I listened.”
