Chapter 111 Crashing My Funeral
Kira’s POV
The church smelled like lilies and lies.
I sat in the front pew alongside the supposed grieving family members like I belonged there, Adrian’s thigh pressed against mine, his hand a steady anchor on my knee.
People kept sneaking glances at us…the mysterious woman in the blood-red dress on the arm of the most powerful man in the city. Good. Let them stare. Let the whispers spread like wildfire.
Why don’t funerals have that part like weddings?
You know, “If anyone has anything to say why this person shouldn’t be buried, step forward or forever hold your peace.”
That would’ve been perfect. I could’ve walked right up to the podium with dramatic drum rolls playing in my head, slow-motion style, and dropped the biggest bomb of their lives. Instead I had to sit here, smiling politely, while the priest droned on about “a life cut too short” and “a bright soul gone too soon.”
Bright soul? Please. They dressed my corpse in yellow!
The service dragged, but I used every second to place seeds of unease.
I leaned over to Evelyn during the hymn and whispered, just loud enough for Frederick to hear, “She always hated yellow, didn’t she? Said it made her look washed out. Funny choice for her final outfit.”
Evelyn’s face went gray while Frederick’s jaw ticked. Miranda didn’t hear what I said, but she shot me a glare that could melt steel…like I am her arch nemesis…which I am…obviously.
I just smiled sweetly and went back to pretending to sing.
But I kept stopping them. Subtle bombs. One after another.
When the priest invited people to share memories, I almost laughed. Not one of them stood up. Of course not. What were they going to say? “Kira was so easy to control until she wasn’t”?
Sadness washed over me as I looked around the church. No one was crying their heart out at my funeral. No friends…no classmates…no one. It was more like a business event…filled with men in suits with their bossy wives.
I cried inside. For the girl who has no one to cry for her. For the girl who was isolated and died without leaving a print that she was here…that she existed.
Finally, the moment came. The open casket.
“Would the family and close friends please come forward for final goodbyes?” the priest said softly.
‘Can I take a look too?’ I asked Fredrick politely and he nodded. It would be weird if I just stood up and walked to the front.
But I needed to see my body one more time.
My legs felt like jelly the second I stood. The world tilted. Adrian was there instantly, arm sliding around my waist, holding me up like it was the easiest thing in the world.
“I’m right beside you,” he whispered, lips brushing my ear. “You’re not doing this alone.”
I nodded, throat too tight to speak, and let him walk me forward.
There she was.
Me.
Cold. Still. Dressed in that hideous yellow dress. The one color they knew I hated because it reminded me of every time they called me “sunshine” like a joke. They’d even put a little yellow bow in my hair. Mocking me. Even in death.
My knees buckled for real this time. Adrian caught me, strong and solid, and I grabbed his hand so tight my nails dug in. I felt the skin break, warm blood slicking my fingers, but he didn’t flinch. Not even a twitch. Just squeezed back like he’d let me draw every drop if it helped.
Tears spilled hot and fast down my cheeks. Real ones. I couldn’t stop them…didn’t want to. This was my body. My life they’d stolen. My mother’s fortune they’d stolen twice.
Frederick stepped up beside me, voice dripping fake concern. “Did you know my youngest daughter, Mrs. Draven? I’m sure you didn’t…she had no friends. Always such a sad little loner. And she was suicidal, really. We tried therapy, treatments…everything. But she was beyond saving.”
I laughed through the tears, bitter and low. In my head I screamed: You’re the ones who told me not to have friends. Said everyone was out to kill me for my fortune. That the only person I needed was Miranda. You isolated me until I had no one!
Out loud I asked, calm as anything, “Is that the story you’re selling? That she jumped off the balcony on the exact day she was supposed to inherit her mother’s entire fortune? Not that the three of you pushed her?”
Frederick’s face turned purple instantly as panic flickered in his eyes. “Mr. Draven,” he hissed, spinning to Adrian, “this is my youngest daughter’s funeral. Can you please tell your wife to show some respect?”
Adrian tugged my arm gently, trying to pull me back but I didn’t budge. I reached down with my free hand and touched my own cold cheek. The skin was waxy and wrong. More tears came softly. I swore inside my chest, fierce and silent… ‘You will pay. Every single one of you. For Mom. For me. For everything.’
Before I let Adrian lead me away, I turned to the three of them standing there like statues and wiped my hands on Miranda’s gown with a little smile on my face. She jerked back, disgust crawling into her face as she cursed at me quietly. Then I said to them in a voice that was sweet as poison. “Enjoy this while it lasts. Because I’m going to make you pay for every single thing you’ve done.”
Frederick sputtered, confusion and dread written all over his face. “You should be careful of the media and their false narrative. I don’t know who’s been feeding you these ridiculous lies, Mrs. Draven. My daughter jumped to her death. End of story.”
I tilted my head. “Won’t I know better? She didn’t jump. You pushed her.”
Miranda snapped, voice cracking. “Can you stop whatever you’re up to? One would think you were actually there. Or that you’re Kira.”
Adrian’s voice rang out clear and calm from behind me. “Kira, love, come sit down.”
The three of them froze like someone had hit pause on the world. Their faces were a mask of pure terror and panic. Eyes wide, mouths open, color draining so fast I thought they might faint right there on the church carpet.
I turned, smiled the brightest smile I’d worn all day, and held out my hand like we were at a garden party. “Oh, I know I haven’t properly introduced myself this whole time. Hi… I’m Kira.”
Frederick stumbled back two steps. Evelyn clutched her pearls like they’d save her while Miranda’s knees actually wobbled.
I gasped, all fake concern, loud enough for the whole front rows to hear. “Someone get the grieving family some water! They look like they’ve just seen a ghost!”
“Are you alright?” I asked, blinking innocently. “You all seem… shaken.”
Adrian stepped up beside me, hand on my lower back. “Hope my wife isn’t causing you any trouble.”
They just stood there, zoned out, terrified and confused out of their minds.
Frederick recovered first, forcing a laugh that sounded like a dying hyena. “W-what’s your last name, dear?”
Adrian answered before I could, voice smooth as glass. “Draven. She’s my wife, so of course she has my name. What’s that supposed to mean?”
Frederick laughed again, awkward and too loud. “Of course, of course. Just curious. Where did you grow up, Mrs. Draven?”
I smiled, keeping my voice light, conversational. “Oh, in my father’s house in Alaska, of course. Wasn’t allowed to leave much or associate with anyone. Kept me locked away for my own ‘safety.’ Sound familiar? You do have daughters too, so I assume you must be like my father.”
I watched their faces crumble. They knew exactly how they’d treated me…locked doors, no friends, constant “you’re too fragile” lies. Their eyes darted like trapped rats.
I kept going, casual as chatting about the weather. “My father is literally a King. I have two older brothers. We live pretty isolated, but I guess that’s how some families do it.”
Miranda’s voice came out squeaky. “So… technically you’re a princess? And you’ve been in Alaska your whole life?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
They all exhaled at the same time, shoulders dropping in visible relief. Alaska. Not dead. Not me. Just some random rich girl who seemed to know a few things. They must be thinking it’s just plain old coincidence.
I smiled wider. “Why were you so scared? Did you think I was someone else?”
“No!” all three blurted at once, voices overlapping in panic.
Adrian chuckled softly and started pulling me toward our seats. “Come on, love. Let’s sit.”
I let him guide me, but I tossed one last line over my shoulder…the kind of quiet, quirky thing only the real Kira would’ve said to them in private. “You guys are so extra. It’s exhausting.”
I heard them gasp loudly behind me, but didn’t say another word.
I watched them close the casket minutes later. Watched the slow procession to the graveside. Watched the hole they’d dug right next to Mom’s grave, fresh dirt piled like a wound. They lowered me down while Evelyn and Miranda put on their Oscar-worthy fake sobs, the crowd murmuring sympathy.
I stepped close to Miranda at the edge of the grave. “You know I hate yellow,” I said softly, just for her. “Yet you dressed me in it on the last day my body will ever feel the sun. I know you picked that outfit, didn’t you? It was the same one you wore the day I died.”
They didn’t even bother to buy me a new dress?
Miranda screamed.
Actually screamed, pointing at me with a shaking finger. “She’s Kira! Why is she alive? She’s supposed to be dead! Why is she ruining everything? Didn’t we kill her? Didn’t we push her hard enough? Did she cheat death? She’s a ghost!”
People turned, phones came out and murmurs exploded into chaos. I’d tipped off a reporter earlier…told him “something big” would happen at Kira Summers’ funeral. Now three more camera crews swarmed in, lenses zooming, microphones thrust forward.
“Miss, can you repeat that? You said you pushed her?”
Miranda’s legs gave out. She crumpled to the grass.
I held out my hand to help her up, polite as anything. She slapped it away so hard my skin stung.
“Ghost!” she shrieked. “You’re a ghost! We already killed you…why won’t you stay dead and let me have the company?!”
I smiled down at her, calm and sweet, while cameras flashed and phones recorded every second.
I got them.
Right where I needed them to be.