Yet the boy’s eyes—burning with urgency—refused to let him ignore it.

Richard ordered the service to stop. The coffin was not sealed yet, and everyone’s eyes followed as the lid was carefully lifted. Gasps rippled again through the crowd. Inside, Emily’s face looked peaceful, but pale. Too pale. Her lips, however, were not as blue as one would expect. A doctor present at the funeral leaned closer, inspecting her neck and pulse. Moments later, the doctor looked up, visibly shaken.

“There’s… faint activity,” he stammered. “She’s not gone.”

Cries of disbelief echoed. Emily’s mother collapsed, overwhelmed. Richard froze, unable to process what he had just heard. His daughter—his only daughter—was alive.

Marcus stepped forward. “I tried to stop them that night. I saw what happened. Emily’s car didn’t just crash—it was forced off the road.” His voice trembled, but he kept going. “There were men in another car. They pulled her out. She wasn’t dead, just unconscious. They were going to finish the job, but I scared them off. I called for help, but when the ambulance came, I thought she’d be safe. Then I heard they declared her dead. That’s when I knew something wasn’t right.”