I Smashed My Boss's Daughter's Coffin After Hearing a Faint Cry From Inside

The Secret in the Syringe

With the coffin lid partially shattered, Mia and Eleanor desperately pried the broken wood apart. Inside, Emma lay pale, her eyes fluttering open, gasping weakly for air. The crowd of wealthy mourners gasped in sheer disbelief. Emma was alive, but she was incredibly weak, her movements sluggish as if she were trapped in a deep chemical fog. Mia quickly helped the young woman sit up, wrapping her own apron around Emma's shivering shoulders.

Arthur tried to push his way through the crowd, his voice shaking with a mixture of anger and panic.

"This is a miracle, but we must get her to a private hospital immediately! Nobody touch her!" he demanded.

But Eleanor, her eyes sharp behind her glasses, stepped between her son and her granddaughter. She smelled something bitter on Emma's breath—a distinct chemical scent she recognized all too well.

Mia noticed a small, fresh puncture mark on Emma's neck.

"She didn't die of an illness," Mia declared, standing her ground against her employer. "Someone drugged her. They wanted her buried before she could wake up."

Eleanor turned to Arthur, her voice cold as ice. She demanded to know why the family doctor had signed a death certificate without a proper autopsy. Under the pressure of his mother's glare and the murmurs of the crowd, Arthur's composure began to shatter. It was then that Emma weakly reached out, pointing a trembling finger at her father.

"He... he gave me the tea," Emma whispered, her voice barely audible. "He wanted the trust fund..."

It became clear that Arthur had poisoned his own daughter to inherit the massive medical trust established by her late mother, which was set to transfer to Emma on her twenty-fifth birthday—just two days away.