Chapter 4 - DIGGING UP THE DEADThe next morning, the local news was in a frenzy.
“TECH HEIRESS ACCUSES ACCLAIMED HUSBAND OF MURDER AND FRAUD IN BIZARRE ER DRAMA”
Headlines screamed across every major network. The stock price of Vance Enterprises plummeted by 35% in pre-market trading.
From my hospital bed, with Marcus at my side, we launched a counter-offensive. We didn't wait for the slow wheels of justice; we went straight for the jugular.
Marcus filed an emergency petition for the exhumation of my father’s body.
At the county courthouse, Harrison Blake fought like a cornered animal. Mary Vance sat beside him in court, dressed in head-to-toe black silk, dabbing non-existent tears with a lace handkerchief while dozens of cameras flashed through the gallery windows. Beckett sat in his orange jumpsuit, handcuffed, glaring at me with pure venom.
“Your Honor!” Blake argued passionately before the judge. “This is a grieving widow and a devoted son being dragged through the mud by an unhinged woman! Mrs. Vance is attempting to desecrate her own father's grave based on wild cyber-conspiracy theories!”
The judge turned to Marcus. “Mr. Attorney, do you have concrete forensic proof to justify exhuming a body that has been buried for two years?”
Marcus stood up, calmly opening a binder.
“Your Honor, we don't need to guess. My client managed the server that stored the encrypted telemetry data for her father’s smart pacemaker. We submitted the raw data logs to an independent biomedical auditor. On the night Arthur Vance died, his pacemaker’s voltage was remotely spiked six times in ten minutes via an unauthorized Bluetooth bridge.”
Marcus pointed directly at Beckett.
“A Bluetooth bridge that was registered to Beckett Vance’s personal laptop.”
Beckett’s face turned from pale to ghostly white. Beside him, Mary’s handkerchief stopped mid-dab.
The judge’s eyes narrowed. She didn't hesitate. She slammed her gavel down with a resounding crack that echoed through the courtroom.
May you like
“Petition granted. Exhumation will proceed immediately under state police supervision.”
As the bailiffs led Beckett away, he leaned over toward me, whispering through bared teeth: “You think you’ve won, Clara? You have no idea what my mother put in motion before we left the house that night.”
