Chapter 4

The lie solidifies into truth in Marcus's mind. The unrecognizable body in the casket is the ultimate proof of my deception. His rage becomes a physical thing, a storm breaking over the quiet family cemetery.

"Get it out of there," he bellows at the troopers. "Get that thing out of my wife's casket."

They hesitate, looking at each other, but Marcus's fury is absolute. They reach in and unceremoniously drag my decomposing body out, letting it fall onto the grass with a wet, heavy sound.

Leo screams, a raw, animal sound of pure horror. "No! That's Ellie! Stop it!"

He lunges forward, trying to cover my body with his own small frame, trying to protect what's left of me from further violation.

"Get him off of it," Marcus snarls.

One of the troopers grabs Leo by the arm. Leo fights, kicking and biting with the strength of a cornered animal. There's a sharp, sickening crack. Leo cries out, his arm hanging at an unnatural angle. He falls, but still tries to crawl toward me. The other trooper grabs his leg and twists. Another crack echoes in the air.

Leo is screaming now, a continuous, high-pitched sound of agony.

I am screaming with him, my silent voice tearing at my spectral throat. I throw myself at the troopers, at Marcus, but I am air. I pass through them, a helpless, invisible tempest of grief and rage.

"She did this to you, Leo," Marcus says, standing over my brother's broken body. "She's watching this. This is what she's forcing me to do."

He nods to a state trooper holding a medical kit. "He needs to be compliant. Give him a sedative."

The trooper hesitates, looking at the small, broken child on the ground. "Governor, the dose..."

"Do it," Marcus orders.

The trooper kneels, takes out a syringe, and injects the clear liquid into Leo's thigh. Leo's screams quiet to whimpers, his eyes fluttering. The dose is dangerously high for a child. It's meant for a full-grown man.

Izzy watches from the side, a single, perfect tear rolling down her cheek. She places a hand on Marcus's arm. "Oh, Marcus," she whispers. "What she's making you do. What she's putting this poor child through."

Her performance is flawless. She is the grieving friend, the innocent victim. And Marcus, my brilliant, ambitious husband, is her puppet.