Chapter 3 - The Ghost at the Funeral HomeAt 9:00 AM the following morning, a heavy, gloomy drizzle blanketed the city of Baltimore.
Inside the grand, marble-trimmed chapel of Sterling & Sons Funeral Directors, soft classical organ music played over the hidden speakers.
Standing near the front of the chapel, wearing a perfectly tailored black suit, holding a crisp white handkerchief, was Garrett Sterling. He was dabbing at his eyes, offering tragic, heartbreaking nods of gratitude to the dozens of high-society guests, city council members, and shipyard executives who filed past to offer their condolences.
Beside him, wearing an expensive black silk maternity dress, looking frail and tearful, stood my half-sister, Penelope.
"It's such an absolute tragedy," Marcus Sterling—Garrett's father, a broad, silver-haired sixty-two-year-old titan of the harbor district—sighing heavily to a group of reporters standing near the entrance. "My son is completely devastated. To lose his beloved wife, Rosalind, and her disabled brother Tobias in a single, terrible driving accident on the coastal road... it is more than any family should have to bear."
Garrett wiped a fake tear from his cheek, stepping up to the wooden podium set up before the flower-draped, empty caskets.
"Thank you, everyone, for coming," Garrett spoke into the microphone, his voice cracking with rehearsed, tragic emotion. "Rosalind was the light of my life. Her devotion to our family's shipyard was unmatched. Though her heart was weak these past few months... she fought bravely. Today, as we prepare to lay her memory to rest, I promise to honor her legacy by taking full personal stewardship of Vance Maritime..."
BOOM!
The heavy double oak doors at the rear of the grand chapel were thrown open with thunderous force.
The organ music cut off abruptly into a high, screeching static.
The two hundred guests, reporters, and city officials turned their heads simultaneously, letting out a collective, breathless gasp that echoed through the high-vaulted ceiling.
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Walking down the center aisle, wearing an immaculate, floor-length white silk trench coat, her dark hair styled in glossy, flawless waves, holding her head high, her eyes burning like twin suns of cold steel, was me.
And walking directly beside my right shoulder, wearing a dark suit, his broad shoulders relaxed, stepping with fluid, powerful, and unshakeable grace on his own two solid legs, was my brother, Tobias.
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