Ryan knew he wasn’t ready to say goodbye. As he stepped out of the car and looked at the church where his father’s funeral was about to begin, his heart felt heavy. The grief was raw. “We couldn’t even give Dad a proper funeral,” he thought bitterly. His father, Arnold, had died from an infectious disease, and cremation had been chosen as the safest option. Suddenly, a sharp bark pierced through his thoughts. Bella, his loyal German Shepherd, was growling and pacing inside the car, more agitated than he had ever seen her.

“Bella!” he called out, signaling for her to lie down. She obeyed reluctantly, but her eyes remained locked on the church. He patted her head through the open window. “Stay here, girl.”

With a heavy heart, Ryan walked into the church, joining his mother who sat quietly near the front. The casket was already in place, closed off by a rope to prevent anyone from getting too close. The final hymn had just started when Bella’s bark exploded again—this time louder and more urgent. The doors flung open, and the dog bolted into the church, leaping onto the casket and knocking the flower arrangement to the ground. She barked, then sat in her alert posture, eyes locked on Ryan.

Something was wrong. He felt it deep in his gut.

“Open the casket!” Ryan demanded.

Gasps echoed through the pews. Despite the commotion, he approached the casket and opened it. His blood ran cold.

It was empty.

Ryan’s uncle turned pale. “Where is he?” he asked the funeral director.

Ryan’s mother swayed, then collapsed. He barely caught her before her head hit the marble floor. She was rushed to the hospital, unconscious.

Later, back at his mother’s house, Ryan called the police. Detective Bradshaw took his statement. “The coroner confirmed the cause of death and released the remains to the funeral home,” she said. “Do you think your father could’ve been involved in anything suspicious?”

Ryan shook his head. He hadn’t worked with Arnold since opening his dog training center, but he knew his father wouldn’t tarnish his reputation.

Still, with no solid leads, the detective promised to follow up. Ryan couldn’t wait. Leaving Bella behind, he went to the morgue. When he asked for Arnold’s file, the nurse hesitated—it was against policy. Ryan set \$1,000 on the counter, and she turned a blind eye as he slipped into the back office. He searched for Arnold’s file, but it was gone.

Frustrated and confused, Ryan’s phone buzzed. It was Mr. Stevens, Arnold’s lawyer. He informed Ryan that he was now the CEO of Arnold’s company and needed to meet urgently.

At the office, Ryan checked his father’s Gmail. Every message was gone.

“Who’s been on this computer?” he asked.

“No one,” Mr. Stevens replied calmly.

Ryan looked around. “Where are the two dancer figurines that used to sit here?”

“Oh, Arnold took them home. He never did find the third one. The guy who owns it wants half a million dollars for it.”

Ryan knew those figurines weren’t at his parents’ house. Something didn’t add up.

Mr. Stevens then dropped another bombshell: the company was drowning in debt. Investors were threatening to pull out, and it all started around the time Arnold hired a new secretary. “With all due respect,” Stevens added, “I think your father had an affair with her.”

Ryan clenched his fists. His mother’s face flashed in his mind. He wanted to confront Miss Pearson, the secretary, but Stevens advised against it—no use ruining Arnold’s name.

Instead, Ryan worked to smooth things over with investors and sent out gift baskets. That evening, he tailed Miss Pearson to her suburban home. When she left, he slipped into her garage before the door shut. Inside, he searched in the dark using a flashlight. In her bedroom, a framed photo showed her kissing Arnold.

Ryan’s gut tightened, but he focused. In the living room, a slightly open drawer revealed a Manila envelope. Inside was Arnold’s \$7 million life insurance policy. The sole beneficiary? Miss Pearson.

Ryan took it straight to Detective Bradshaw. She was stunned. “This gives us reason to act. Miss Pearson is booked on a flight to Morocco in less than 30 minutes.”

Morocco had no extradition treaty with the U.S. They had to catch her before she boarded. Ryan begged to join, but Bradshaw refused. Still, he followed them anyway, slipping past airport security with the officers.

At the gate, the team spread out. “White shirt, dark hair—step out of line!” Bradshaw shouted.

Ryan’s heart stopped as the woman turned. It wasn’t her. Miss Pearson had vanished.

Back to square one.

But Ryan couldn’t let it go. He remembered the figurines. Wherever Arnold was, he probably took them. He searched online for the collector who owned the third piece and paid him a visit.

“How much for the figurine?” Ryan asked.

“\$750,000,” Mr. Frederick said.

“That’s outrageous.”

“Then don’t buy it.”

Ryan had no choice. He called Mr. Stevens and sold enough shares to cover the price.

“But you’ll lose control of the company,” Stevens warned.

“I know. But I’ll buy them back soon.”

“Is this about Pearson?” Stevens asked.

“In a way,” Ryan admitted.

“I’ll wire the money,” Stevens said. “But don’t ask how.”

Once Ryan got confirmation, he returned and bought the figurine. Then, he arranged for it to be auctioned. He paid for ads, hoping Arnold would notice.

At the auction house, Ryan watched from the shadows. The figurine came up. Two bidders remained: neither looked like Arnold.

“\$600,000 going once…”

“…going twice…”

“\$1 million!”

Ryan froze. That voice—it was Arnold.

Arnold stood up from the back and removed his hat.

“Sold to the man in the beige coat!” the auctioneer declared.

Arnold turned to leave, but Ryan cut him off. Detective Bradshaw stepped in and cuffed him.

“You tricked me!” Arnold said.

Ryan’s voice trembled. “You faked your death. Took out insurance. Lied to everyone. You made us cry over an empty casket.”

Arnold admitted he wanted a fresh start with Miss Pearson.

“You betrayed everything you stood for,” Ryan said quietly. “You taught me to do what’s right. I’m sorry you forgot that.”

Bradshaw assured Ryan that Miss Pearson would be found. As Arnold was taken away, Ryan felt a wave of sadness—but also closure. He wasn’t done yet, but he was finally getting closer to the truth.