Chapter 5: The Funeral Farce

I changed into black dress clothes and stood before Ethan’s photo, head bowed, hands shoved deep in my pockets, like every other awkward mourner in this town.

The suit was a little snug—one I’d last worn to a distant cousin’s wedding. I straightened my tie, fixed my hair in the warped bathroom mirror, and forced myself to look composed. I knelt, the stiff fabric biting into my knees, and lowered my head in a gesture of respect.

My gaze fell on the glass casket. Through the window, Ethan’s face was caked with thick white powder. After deliberately holding his breath, he really did look like a dead man.

The mortician had overdone the makeup—Ethan looked waxy and pale, lips pressed tight. He held so still it was uncanny, like a kid playing a prank at a sleepover.

No one would bother to check if he was really dead.

Most of the crowd just whispered and shook their heads, already gossiping about the next funeral. Nobody looked too closely. In small towns, secrets don’t stay buried for long—but sometimes, nobody cares enough to dig them up.

I leaned on the casket and wailed, “Oh, poor brother! I told you long ago that gambling would ruin you. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of Mom and Dad, and you can leave your fiancée to me.”

My voice rang out, raw and theatrical, echoing Mom’s earlier wails. I saw the relatives shift, startled by my sudden emotion.

“Don’t worry, brother, you can rest in peace. Better I get the benefit than some outsider.”

I leaned closer, my tone sly. I could almost see Ethan’s eyelid twitch.

“Actually… actually, I’ve liked her for a long time. Thank you for letting me have her.”

I let my voice break just a little, faking a sob. The audience was eating it up.

A chorus of sighs rippled around me. Chloe stared at me in shock. “Ryan Carter?”

She wore a simple black dress, her eyes red from crying—or maybe from exhaustion. Her voice was almost a whisper, more confused than angry.

“I’m serious. Anyway, you two weren’t married yet. I can accept it. I’ll definitely take good care of you for my brother.”

I lowered my head, letting my hair fall across my eyes. My shoulders began to shake. The effort it took to keep from laughing was almost painful.

I hung my head so they couldn’t see my face. My shoulders shook violently. I covered my mouth tightly, trying not to laugh out loud.

Inside the casket, Ethan was close enough to see my grin, the little flicker of triumph I couldn’t quite suppress.

But Ethan, inside the casket, could see the smile on my face.

His jaw clenched, and for a second, I thought he might blow his cover right then and there.

He really could endure.

If endurance were an Olympic sport, he’d medal in hiding from responsibility.

“He just died. Is it appropriate for you to say this?”

Chloe looked at me, the corners of her mouth twitching up. Her lips parted in shock, but I caught the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

She fought a smile, but the absurdity of it all was almost too much to bear. A few of the younger cousins snickered behind their hands.

I moved closer and whispered, “Really? What if Ethan took your money to support a mistress, used the house you bought to pay off debts, or… faked his death to escape his creditors?”

I made sure nobody else could hear, my breath warm against her ear. Her eyes widened as she took in the implication.

“I can help you get it all back. Do you trust me?”

The offer hung in the air—revenge, or maybe just closure. I waited, heart thudding, wondering if she’d take the bait.

A flash of hatred crossed her eyes. She stared at the man in the casket, then looked up at my heartbroken parents.

I saw her jaw set, her spine straighten. Something in her shifted—no more tears, just resolve.

Suddenly, she became very determined. “I trust you.”

She spoke clearly, her voice cutting through the hushed room. I felt a surge of gratitude—and maybe a little hope.

“I’ll help you.”

I was a little surprised, but quickly accepted it.

For the first time in years, I didn’t feel alone. I nodded, the beginnings of a plan forming in my mind.

With an ally, things would go much smoother.

It was the two of us against the world now—and for once, I liked our odds.

Chloe very cooperatively took my hand. “He’s finally dead. Now we can be together openly.”

She squeezed my fingers, her face an earnest mask. The crowd watched, stunned.

Me: “You’re quick to get into character.”

I whispered it under my breath, barely loud enough for her to hear. She grinned, a spark of mischief in her eyes.

My mother yanked us apart, glancing nervously at the person in the casket.

She snatched Chloe’s arm, her nails digging in. Her eyes darted to Ethan’s still form, panic flickering across her face.

“How can you behave like this in front of the dead?!”

Her outrage was as much for show as anything else. She looked around, making sure everyone heard.

I straightened up and grinned. “Once Ethan is cremated, I’ll come to your house to propose.”

I made the declaration loud enough for everyone to hear, planting the idea in their minds. No going back now.

I patted the casket. “Don’t worry, I’ll live in your wedding house and spend my days with your fiancée, slowly paying off your debts.”

My palm thudded against the cold glass. The message was clear: Ethan’s secrets weren’t safe anymore.

I put extra emphasis on the word “debts.”

The room bristled. Everyone knew what debts meant. Even the funeral director looked nervous.

Ethan’s ‘corpse’ twitched twice, veins bulging on his forehead.

He was a split second from breaking character, and I relished every second of it.

I wanted to say more, but my mother cut me off sharply.

She stormed forward, face twisted in rage, ready to take control again.

“Enough, you animal!”

Her shout echoed off the walls. Several relatives gasped, scandalized.

“I’d rather die here than agree to you two being together!”

She brandished her fists at me, blocking Chloe with her body.

My mother grabbed Chloe’s arm and shoved her out the door.

She practically dragged her into the hallway, slamming the door behind them. I heard Chloe’s heels clatter against the tile.

“Get out of my house! My son doesn’t want a shameless woman like you.”

Her voice faded into the hallway. I wondered if the neighbors could hear the drama unfolding—probably. This was the best show in town.

I shielded her and, taking advantage of the chaos, stuffed my backpack into her arms.

I stepped between them, murmuring quick instructions. My hand slid the backpack into her grip. She nodded, understanding the stakes.

“You go first. I’ll find you once I’ve handled everything.”

My eyes met hers, and for a moment, we were a team. She turned on her heel, slipping through the crowd like a shadow.

Chloe understood, took the money, and left without a backward glance.

She didn’t look back. I admired her resolve, her cool head in the middle of all this madness.

Finally, I could relax. I took out my debit card and placed it in my mother’s hand.

I watched her eyes light up as I pressed the card into her palm. Her fingers curled greedily around it. My fingers lingered on the card for a second longer, hoping—stupidly—for a thank you that never came.

“This is all my savings.”

My voice was soft, but the meaning was clear: this was the last of what I had.

“Don’t be angry anymore. I’ve agreed to take on Ethan’s debt. Won’t you let us be together?”

I pitched my voice just right, feigning deference. I saw her calculating—money always worked better than apologies.

My mother’s frosty face finally softened a little. She’d gotten what she wanted.

Her mouth relaxed, her tone thawed. Money talked, even in the depths of grief.

She was probably thinking that even if we ended up together, we’d be shackled by debt for the rest of our lives.

Her eyes narrowed, already spinning stories for the rest of the family. The puppet strings were back in her hands.

My mother carefully put the debit card away.

She slipped it into her purse with practiced efficiency, patting the bag as if it were a newborn.

She smiled faintly. “Fine, fine, we’ll talk about your matters later.”

Her tone was dismissive, but her eyes gleamed with satisfaction. The deal was done, at least for now.