Desperate Funeral

Chapter 4

At the same time, all the bodyguards Shirley had hired were rounded up and taken away by the police.

As the officers handcuffed Shirley, her heels barely touched the ground. That's when the panic set in.

"Wait, what are you doing?!" she snapped, her voice rising in disbelief. "Do you have any idea who my husband is? You mess with me, and you'll all be out of a job! I swear, I'll make one phone call and, "

"Shut it!" one of the officers barked. "We don't care who your husband is. You organized a public disturbance and injured someone. Detention and compensation are guaranteed, whether you end up in jail depends on the extent of her injuries."

Shirley's face twisted in rage. "What did you just say?! Are you out of your mind? Are you even real cops, or are you just paid actors working for this bitch?!"

She lunged toward the phone that had fallen during the chaos and screamed into the camera.

"Everyone watching, look at this! The cops are arresting me for no reason! They're working with that scammer! This is corruption! There's no justice here! You all saw what happened, right? You have to testify for me!"

"My wedding's been postponed! I've lost more than twenty grand because of this!"

Just then, a hotel investigator returned and cut her off cold.

"That's enough. We've reviewed everything. There was no fraud involved. The funeral today was fully paid for, by this lady right here," he said, pointing at me. "Stop misleading people in the livestream."

He bent down, picked up the phone, and ended the live broadcast.

Shirley's eyes widened in disbelief. She shook her head like crazy.

"No… No, that's not possible! I'll call my husband right now! I'll prove it! His name is on the bill, how could it be wrong? You're all in on this! I'll sue all of you!"

An officer, clearly done with her tantrum, tossed the invoice in front of her.

"Take a look."

Shirley's gaze landed on the name written on the receipt. The color drained from her face.

Silence.

Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, she went limp and allowed the officers to lead her away.

A female officer approached me with a look of sympathy and gently reached out her hand. "Ms. Gladwell, let's get you to the hospital."

I managed to sit up straight, my back screaming in pain. But I shook my head.

Not yet.

My father's ashes still weren't properly secured. The guests hadn't left. The ceremony wasn't over.

Now wasn't the time to fall apart.

I clutched the urn close and slowly began putting the spilled ashes back inside. One of the officers thoughtfully turned off the air conditioner so nothing else would scatter.

With the chaos finally over and the instigators taken away, the relatives who had hidden in the emergency exits slowly filtered back into the hall.

A few of my father's old friends, uncles who had once been close to him, stepped forward to offer their condolences. But before they could speak, a familiar voice came shouting from outside the door.

"Daisy! Daisy, are you okay? I'm so sorry, I got here as fast as I could!"