There, under a large oak tree, sat a stunning Rolls-Royce Phantom decorated with white ribbons and flowers. The car looked almost unreal—silver paint gleaming like liquid light.
For a moment, Ethan forgot everything except admiration.
Then footsteps approached.
He hid behind some stacked boxes and peeked through the gap.
A tall woman in a lavender bridesmaid dress walked into the garage. Her name was Lydia, Emily’s cousin. In photographs she always smiled beside the bride, but now her face was twisted with bitterness.
Beside her stood a man wearing gray coveralls.
“Did anyone see you?” Lydia whispered.
“No,” the man replied nervously.
“I don’t care if they die,” Lydia said coldly. “In fact, it would be perfect. Emily always had everything—love, praise, attention. And now she gets Daniel and his fortune. That life should have been mine.”
She touched the Rolls-Royce like someone claiming ownership.
“Make sure they never reach the airport,” she ordered. “I want their fairy tale to end before it begins.”
The man pulled out a long needle tool and slid beneath the car.
Ethan closed his eyes and listened.
Pss… ess…
A faint hiss.