Chapter 3 - The Fake Funeral and the Shocking Reuniom
Two weeks later, on a quiet Tuesday afternoon, Nora returned home early because a client had canceled an appointment. She walked through the front door and found Brandon standing in the living room fully dressed in his black suit.
“My mother passed away last night, and her funeral is scheduled for tomorrow morning, but she made it very clear that she did not want to see you there,” Brandon said flatly.
Nora cried for hours in silence, feeling crushed by the cruel rejection. The following morning, she watched Brandon leave the apartment dressed in deep mourning clothes. She waited twenty minutes before grabbing her car keys and driving straight to Miriam’s house in Upper Arlington.
The residential street was eerily empty without any funeral wreaths, parked visitor cars, or mourning family members in sight.
She walked up the porch steps and rang the doorbell with a trembling hand.
Miriam answered the door wearing comfortable sweatpants and holding a hot mug of coffee in her right hand.
“Nora? What are you doing here out of nowhere?” Miriam asked, looking completely perplexed.
“I drove over here because Brandon told me that you had died last night,” Nora stammered in shock.
Miriam turned pale as paper, and the dreadful truth they were both about to uncover was far worse than a simple misunderstanding.
Miriam quickly set her coffee mug down on the entryway table before her shaking hand dropped it to the floor.
“Dead? Did Brandon actually tell you that I passed away?” Miriam asked, her voice cracking with terror.
Nora could barely manage a nod as she stepped inside the house.
They walked slowly into the kitchen, the exact room where years earlier they had shared coffee, family stories, and wedding plans. Now they stood facing each other like two cautious strangers bound together by a deep suspicion.
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“He told me that you were severely ill and that you refused to see me because my presence upset you,” Nora explained softly.
Miriam opened her eyes wide in complete astonishment. “He told me the exact opposite story, claiming that you were drowning in toxic debt, that aggressive collectors were chasing you, and that you urgently needed money to stay out of trouble, so I have been making direct bank deposits to him for over a year.”
