Chapter 1
The first time I heard my wife scream from inside her own coffin, I thought I was losing my mind.
But that scream was real.
And by the time I ripped the coffin open, I realized the woman I had buried in my heart was still alive.
I burst through the chapel doors so violently that they slammed against the walls.
Dozens of mourners turned toward me.
Some gasped.
Others stood in shock.
I didn't care.
All I could see was the polished wooden coffin sitting beneath a mountain of white roses.
My wife's coffin.
Nia's coffin.
And something inside me was screaming that the woman I loved wasn't dead.
"Marcus!"
My mother-in-law, Evelyn, hurried toward me.
Her silver hair was pulled into an elegant bun, and her black funeral dress moved around her trembling legs.
"Marcus, stop!"
I ignored her.
I ran straight toward the coffin.
Beside it stood a tall golden candelabra.
I grabbed it with both hands.
"Marcus! What are you doing?"
Evelyn's voice cracked.
I lifted the heavy object above my head.
Then brought it crashing down.
CRACK!
The sound exploded through the chapel.
Several women screamed.
A man rushed toward me.
But I swung again.
CRACK!
The wooden lid splintered.
"Somebody stop him!"
"He's lost his mind!"
"That's his wife!"
I heard everything.
But none of it mattered.
Because twenty minutes earlier, three strangers had sent me messages.
Three different phone numbers.
Three different witnesses.
All saying the same impossible thing.
Your wife is alive.
The first message had arrived while I sat alone in my car outside the chapel.
I almost deleted it.
The second included a blurry photograph of a woman wearing a white dress.
The third contained six words that made my blood turn cold.
They put her in the coffin.
At first, I thought someone was playing a cruel joke.
Nia had supposedly died three days earlier.
A sudden heart attack.
That's what Daniel told me.
Daniel Price.
My wife's business partner.
The man who had personally arranged this funeral.
But I hadn't seen Nia's body before the service.
Every time I asked, Daniel told me the funeral home was handling everything.
Evelyn said seeing Nia would only make my grief worse.
I had been too devastated to argue.
Until those messages arrived.
Now I was standing over my wife's coffin, refusing to believe another word.
Evelyn grabbed my arm.
"She's dead, Marcus! Leave her alone!"
I tore my arm free.
"Then why did three people text me saying they saw her alive?"
Her face changed.
For one brief second, I saw something beneath her grief.
Fear.
Not confusion.
Not shock.
Fear.
"Who sent those messages?" she whispered.
I stared at her.
"Why does that matter?"
"Marcus, please."
"Move."
I smashed the lid again.
Wood broke beneath the weight.
Then something happened that silenced the entire chapel.
A hand pushed through the broken wood.
A human hand.
Small.
Brown.
Trembling.
And wearing a familiar wedding ring.
My wife's ring.
I stopped breathing.
"Nia?"
The hand moved again.
Desperately.
I dropped the candelabra.
It struck the marble floor with a deafening clang.
I grabbed the broken edge of the lid.
Splinters scraped my palms.
I didn't feel them.
"Nia!"
I pulled with everything I had.
The damaged lid finally gave way.
And there she was.
My wife.
Alive.
Lying inside a coffin everyone believed held a dead woman.
She wore a white dress.
Her wrists were tied together with rope.
A white cloth covered her mouth.
Her eyes were wide with terror.
For one horrible second, she stared at me as if she couldn't believe I was real.
Then she began struggling toward me.
"Oh, God."
My voice broke.
"Nia."
I reached inside.
She tried to speak through the cloth.
I carefully pulled it away.
She gasped.
Air rushed into her lungs.
"Marcus!"
Her voice was weak.
But it was her voice.
The voice I had fallen in love with eight years earlier.
The voice that whispered goodnight beside me.
The voice I thought I would never hear again.
"I'm here, baby."
I began untying the rope.
Her wrists shook.
"You're safe. I've got you."
She grabbed my jacket.
"Don't let them take me."
I froze.
"Who?"
Her breathing came in frightened bursts.
"Marcus, please."
I lifted her carefully, supporting her shoulders.
She was weak.
Terribly weak.
But she was alive.
Behind me, people began shouting.
Someone called 911.
A woman fainted near the front row.
Several mourners rushed outside.
I barely noticed.
My entire world had narrowed to the woman trembling in my arms.
"Nia, look at me."
She struggled to focus.
"Who did this to you?"
Her lips moved.
But no words came out.
Then the chapel doors opened.
A slow, heavy creak echoed through the room.
I looked over my shoulder.
Daniel Price stood in the entrance.
Tall.
Perfectly dressed in a black suit.
His expression was cold.
Until he saw the open coffin.
Until he saw Nia.
Then his face went completely still.
I felt my wife stiffen.
Her fingers dug into my arm.
She began shaking so badly that I thought she might collapse.
"Nia?"
She raised one trembling hand.
And pointed directly at Daniel.
"Marcus..."
Her voice was barely a whisper.
"That's the man."
Daniel took one step backward.
Evelyn made a strangled sound behind me.
I looked from my terrified wife to the man standing near the doors.
"The man who did what?"
Nia tried to answer.
But Daniel suddenly turned toward the exit.
I stood, keeping one arm around her.
"Daniel!"
He stopped.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Evelyn whispered something that chilled me more than anything I had seen that morning.
"Marcus, you don't understand. He wasn't supposed to come back."
I slowly turned toward her.
"What did you just say?"
Her eyes filled with tears.
Daniel reached inside his jacket.
May you like
And Nia screamed.
"Marcus! Don't let him touch the phone!"
