Nancy's composure faltered. We went back and forth until, in frustration, she slapped the bottle out of my hand. Water splattered across the floor. Her fury boiled over, and she slapped me, hard, before storming off in frustration.
I touched my cheek, the sting barely registering. I’d expected as much from her. They were unraveling faster than I thought, but the real test was yet to come.
When the crematorium’s vehicle arrived, their panic was palpable. They hadn't finalized their plan, and the two exchanged nervous glances. I almost laughed. They had pulled strings, spent resources, and thought they had orchestrated William's "death" perfectly. But now they were cornered. Faking death was no simple feat, and I wasn’t about to let them pull it off a second time.
Instead of getting into my car, I joined the crematorium staff, sitting beside William’s body in the transport van. I made a quiet call to the crematorium on the way, ensuring everything was in order. When we arrived, they were ready for him. William would be cremated immediately—before Thomas and Nancy could even think of spiriting him away.