A collective gasp ripped through the chapel as jagged splinters of white oak clattered against the marble steps.
Inside the fractured opening, two wide, terrified blue eyes blinked beneath the bright glare of the overhead chandeliers.
Toby: Clara! Hold on, Clara, I've got you!
Toby dropped the heavy hammer and dug his bare hands into the jagged edges of the broken wood.
Evelyn: Step back! Do not touch that seal!
Uncle Marcus: Evelyn, what on earth is going on in there? Did I just hear someone moving?
Evelyn: It's gas escaping! It's just air from the chemical preservation process! It's dangerous!
Toby: She's tied up! Look at her mouth!
Marcus rushed up the altar steps, shoving past the funeral director who stood frozen with a ceremonial clipboard.
Marcus gripped the fractured opening and wrenched a two-foot plank free with a sickening crack.
Marcus: Dear Lord Almighty... Clara?
Twenty-two-year-old Clara lay bound in thick white cloth strips, her wrists cinched tightly against her stomach and adhesive tape plastered over her mouth.
Clara: Mmph! Mmm-ph!
Marcus reached inside and peeled the heavy tape from her lips with gentle, trembling fingers.
Clara: Toby... Marcus... get me out... I can't breathe...
Toby: I told them! I told all of them you were alive!
Guests in the pews erupted into screams, several elderly relatives fainting backward into their seats.
Evelyn: This is a grotesque prank! She staged this to ruin me!
Marcus: Shut your mouth, Evelyn! Look at her wrists, they are bleeding!
Marcus reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a small silver pocketknife, and sliced through the ropes binding her legs.
Clara: She gave me water... the glass tasted bitter... and then I couldn't move my arms.
Evelyn: She has had psychological episodes for years! She hired someone to stage this sick drama!
Clara: You locked me in the cellar, Evelyn. You said nobody would ever look for an heiress after she was six feet underground.
Marcus: Call 911 right now! Lock the chapel doors!
Evelyn: Get your hands off me, Marcus! I am the legal head of this estate!
Clara sat up with Marcus's support, coughing violently as fresh air filled her starved lungs.
Clara: You aren't the head of anything. Dad knew who you were before his crash.
Evelyn: Your father was senile! He loved me!
Clara: He left everything in a sealed trust fund for Toby and me, and you found the paperwork two nights ago.
Evelyn's face drained of color as she backed slowly toward the side exit of the sanctuary.
Toby: Where are you going, Evelyn? You said we had to stay until the final prayer!
Evelyn: You little brat. You ruined everything!
Sirens began wailing in the distance, echoing down the quiet suburban avenue outside the stained-glass windows.
Clara: The attorney arrives in five minutes, Evelyn. He has the safe deposit key.
Evelyn spun on her heels and sprinted toward the double brass doors leading to the courtyard.
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