Chapter 1: The Funeral by the Water
“Give me the will,” Lauren whispered moments before she slapped me in front of our father’s coffin.
I had come to my father’s funeral expecting tears, silence, and maybe a few uncomfortable conversations with relatives I barely saw anymore. I never expected to leave that day dripping wet, accused of a crime I didn’t commit, with half the guests believing I had betrayed the man who raised me.
The estate looked exactly like the memories I had spent years trying to hold onto.
It sat on the edge of a quiet lake outside Seattle, surrounded by towering evergreens and gray skies that seemed permanently stuck between rain and winter. My father, Charles Bennett, had always loved that view. He used to say the water reminded him that everything in life eventually settled.
“Even storms,” he would tell me when I was a child.
“Give them enough time, and they pass.””
Standing beneath the white funeral tent that morning, I wondered if he had been wrong.
Because some storms don’t pass.
Some arrive wearing your family’s face.
The coffin rested near the lake, covered with flowers Dad had always loved—white roses mixed with wildflowers from the garden he spent years maintaining himself. Guests stood in black coats and dresses, their voices low as they shared memories.
I stayed near the back.
Not because I didn’t love my father.
Because I knew Lauren.
My stepsister had spent years making sure everyone knew she was Dad’s “real” daughter. She was the one with the matching smile, the same dark hair, the childhood photos filling the hallway.
I was the daughter from his first marriage.
The one people politely described as “the other side of the family.””
But Dad never treated me that way.
When my mother passed away, he was the one who packed my lunch for school. He was the one who waited outside my bedroom after nightmares. He was the one who sat beside me on the porch and told me that family wasn’t always about blood.
“Love is a choice,” he once told me.
Lauren never believed that.
She believed everything Dad had belonged to her.
The house.
The money.
The attention.
And apparently, even his final words.
I noticed her walking toward me before anyone else did.
Lauren moved through the crowd with a calm expression, dressed in a designer black coat that probably cost more than my monthly rent. Her makeup was perfect. Her hair didn’t move despite the wind.
She looked less like a grieving daughter and more like someone arriving to collect a prize.
I lowered my voice.
“Lauren, not here.””
She stopped in front of me.
Her eyes were cold.
“Where is it?””
I frowned.
“Where is what?””
“The will.””
The word felt strange in the middle of the funeral.
I looked around, hoping she would realize how inappropriate this was.
“Lauren, Dad was buried less than an hour ago.””
She stepped closer.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.””
“I don’t have the will.””
Her jaw tightened.
For a second, she simply stared at me.
Then she leaned closer and whispered, “You always hated that everything went to me.””
I felt my stomach twist.
“That’s not true.””
“You were always jealous.””
“Lauren—”
“You think I didn’t notice?”” she interrupted.
“Every birthday. Every Christmas. Every time Dad looked at you like you were something special.””
The pain in her voice almost sounded real.
Almost.
But then she smiled.
A small, ugly smile.
“You really thought you could take it from me after he died?””
I stepped back.
“I didn’t take anything.””
The funeral prayers continued behind us. The priest’s voice carried softly over the water.
Lauren glanced toward the coffin.
Then back at me.
“Give me the will.””
“I don’t have it.””
Her hand moved before I could react.
The slap echoed beneath the tent.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
The sound was sharper than the cold wind.
My face burned.
A few guests turned around.
Someone gasped.
Lauren didn’t look surprised.
She looked satisfied.
“You stole it because you always wanted what was mine,” she shouted.
The entire funeral went silent.
I touched my cheek.
“Are you serious?””
“You know exactly what you did.””
“I didn’t steal anything.””
She raised her voice even louder.
“Then where is my father’s will?””
People started whispering.
I could see the judgment forming in their eyes.
They didn’t know the years of arguments.
They didn’t know how Lauren had spent months trying to convince Dad that I only visited him because I wanted money.
They only saw a grieving daughter accusing another grieving daughter.
And I looked like the villain.
“Lauren,” I said quietly, “Dad loved both of us.””
Her expression changed.
Not sadness.
Anger.
“Don’t say his name like you were the one who mattered.””
Then she shoved me.
Hard.
I stumbled backward.
For one terrifying second, I felt nothing beneath my feet.
Then the cold water swallowed me.
The lake was colder than I imagined.
My black dress dragged me downward immediately, heavy like a blanket made of stone. My shoes slipped against nothing. The sounds from above disappeared into a muffled blur.
I opened my eyes.
Dark water surrounded me.
My first thought wasn’t anger.
It wasn’t fear.
It was disbelief.
Lauren had pushed me into the lake at our father’s funeral.
I kicked upward, fighting against the weight of my dress.
When my head finally broke the surface, I gasped.
The guests stood frozen near the shore.
Lauren stood at the edge of the dock.
Watching.
Smiling.
“You ruined Dad’s funeral,” she said.
I grabbed the wooden edge of the dock.
My fingers were numb.
“Help me,” I whispered.
But Lauren stepped closer.
Nobody moved.
Nobody understood what was happening.
She bent down until only a few inches separated us.
“You will never prove anything.””
I stared at her.
“What are you talking about?””
Her smile disappeared.
“You really don’t know.””
The confusion on my face must have pleased her.
Because she laughed softly.
Then she placed her hand on my shoulder.
And pushed.
My head went beneath the water again.
Panic exploded through my body.
I grabbed her wrist.
I didn’t think.
I reacted.
With every ounce of strength I had left, I pulled.
Lauren lost her balance.
Her eyes widened.
For the first time that day, she looked afraid.
Then she fell forward.
The lake swallowed her too.
Her scream cut through the air before she hit the water.
People rushed toward the dock.
I surfaced first, coughing and shaking.
Lauren came up seconds later, screaming.
“You attacked me!””
I could barely breathe.
“You pushed me!””
“You dragged me in!””
The argument was drowned out by someone jumping from the dock.
A strong hand grabbed my arm.
“Miss Bennett, hold on.””
I recognized that voice.
Mr. Henry.
Dad’s longtime driver.
He had worked for my father for nearly twenty years. He was the man who picked me up from school when Dad was stuck at work. The man who brought groceries to my apartment when I was sick.
He pulled me toward the dock.
“I’ve got you.””
Then he turned and helped Lauren out too.
Minutes later, police cars arrived at the estate.
The funeral guests stood scattered across the lawn, whispering as officers questioned everyone.
Lauren wrapped herself in a blanket.
She looked terrified.
But not because she had almost drowned.
Because she knew something had changed.
An officer approached us.
“Can you tell me what happened?””
Before I could answer, Lauren pointed at me.
“She attacked me.””
My heart stopped.
“What?””
“She was angry because Dad left everything to me,” Lauren said, tears filling her eyes.
“She wanted the will.””
The officer looked between us.
“Is that true?””
I opened my mouth.
But before I could speak, Mr. Henry stepped forward.
“No.””
Everyone turned.
His voice was calm.
Certain.
“No, that is not what happened.””
Lauren’s face changed.
“Henry, don’t.””
He ignored her.
He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small, old voice recorder.
My father’s initials were carved into the back.
My breath caught.
“Your father gave this to me the night before he died,” Mr. Henry said.
The entire lawn went silent.
Lauren stopped crying.
The officer looked at the recorder.
“What is that?””
Mr. Henry pressed a button.
A crackling sound filled the air.
Then my father’s voice came through.
“If you are hearing this, it means Lauren has already tried to take control of my estate.””
Lauren stepped backward.
“No…”
Dad’s voice continued.
“She forged the will she plans to show everyone.””
Nobody moved.
The wind passed through the funeral tent, lifting the edges of the white fabric.
Guests stared at Lauren.
Her face had gone completely pale.
Mr. Henry looked at me with tears in his eyes.
But the recording wasn’t finished.
My father’s voice became quieter.
“There is something else you need to know.””
The officer held the recorder closer.
Lauren shook her head.
“Turn it off.””
Nobody listened.
Dad took a long breath.
May you like
Then he said the words that changed everything.
“The man lying in that coffin is not me.””
