Chapter 2

The livestream was still running, with three cameras pointed at the mahogany coffin.

The livestream comments were still bashing me.

[Her ex-husband is such a great actor. His face is completely pale.]

[He even lied about his son being in the coffin. So disgusting!]

[Ms. Quinn, make him apologize already. Don't let him disrupt the wedding.]

When the coffin lid was fully opened, the livestream comments went quiet—because everyone saw me lying in the coffin with a deathly pale face.

A palm-sized paper effigy of a child was curled up on my chest. Clutched in the effigy's hand was the wedding ring Clara had thrown into the coffin earlier.

That was part of the host's plan to humiliate me. He said the old wedding ring had to be returned so the newlyweds could have a lasting marriage.

But now, the ring seemed to have grown into the paper effigy's hand. No one could pry it loose.

Kevin's expression changed, and he stepped back to hide behind Clara.

"Clara, what is that?"

A flicker of surprise and suspicion crossed Clara's face before she sneered. "Who put that there? How much did Sam pay you?"

The director frantically waved his hands. "Ms. Quinn, no! That wasn't in the at all!"

Clara bent down and grabbed my arm. "Get up! Stop pretending to be dead and scaring people."

My arm fell limp at my side, and the broken red string around my wrist slipped into the bottom of the coffin.

Clara was stunned for a moment. She touched my skin with her fingertip and recoiled. "Why is he so cold?"

Kevin immediately panicked. "Did Sam pass out? Should we call a doctor?"

Clara stared at my face and said coldly, "He can take a lot. He never complained about pain when he had to get stitches before.

"If something were really wrong, he would've found a way out by himself."

She raised her hand and smacked my face—once, then again.

"Sam, the wedding isn't over yet. Don't ruin it for me."

A staff member nearby went pale and whispered to Clara, "Ms. Quinn, I think the ventilation hose is clogged with dirt."

Clara jerked her head up. "Who told you to cover it?"

No one dared to speak. Kevin looked down, his fingers gripping his sleeve tightly.

The doctor rushed over and kneeled beside the coffin to check on me. Less than ten seconds later, his face turned pale.

"Ms. Quinn… Mr. Trout shows no vital signs."

The wedding venue fell deathly silent. The guests who had been cheering around the coffin all backed away.

Someone muttered, "Wasn't this supposed to be an act? If he's really dead, we were all caught on camera."

"Turn off the livestream!" The director rushed toward the console, but the livestream suddenly froze.

A line of blood-red text appeared on the screen.

[The cursed coffin opens. The living may not leave.]

All the cameras automatically turned toward the coffin, pointing at me inside it and at Clara's pale face.

Clara suddenly laughed. "Nice trick."

She turned to the director and fixed him with a cold stare. "Who arranged this? Sam?"

The director was flustered. "Ms. Quinn, we really didn't do this!"

The doctor swallowed hard. "Ms. Quinn, my preliminary assessment is that he died of suffocation. There also seems to be a hidden compartment at the bottom of the coffin."

The staff pried open the wooden panel at the bottom. A little boy in a blue suit was curled up inside.

It was Max.

Clara's face drained of color.

"Max?" She staggered toward the coffin. "Why is he here?"

Kevin quickly spoke up. "That's impossible. Didn't Noah pick Max up already?"

Clara seemed to catch on to something and immediately turned to the doctor.

"Right. That's impossible. Sam must have arranged this. He'd do anything to ruin the wedding!"

As soon as she finished speaking, the paper effigy suddenly moved. Its hand clutched the wedding ring tightly.

A very faint child's voice came from inside the coffin. "Mom…"

Clara froze in place.