The Doppelgänger’s Funeral: How a Small-Town Land Appraiser Uncovered His Own Staged Death and Business Partner’s $4.2 Million Scheme
👉 Previous Decision: You chose to step closer to touch the silicone skin of the body to verify if it is real or a doll.
My eyes fixed on the serene, pale face in the casket. The details were too perfect, too lifelike. I had to know.
I reached into the casket, my fingers extending. They brushed against the cold, smooth skin of the cheek.
A soft click echoed through the quiet chapel, followed by a shrill, piercing security chime that ripped through the air.
My hand recoiled, knocking against the silk lining. A faint red light flickered from beneath the body.
The velvet curtains at the back of the chapel rustled.
Derrick Croft stepped out, a heavy iron rod gripped in his hand. Behind him, Garrett Kincaid emerged, another rod held loosely at his side. Both men wore flat, unreadable expressions.
Derrick’s lips spread in a slow, humorless smile.
“Arthur. So glad you could make it.”
My heart hammered against my ribs, a trapped bird. I tried to speak, but no sound came out.
Kincaid raised his rod, his eyes cold.
➡️ Read CHAPTER 4 to continue the story.
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