Inside my coffin at my own funeral, I was poisoned and paralyzed while my husband declared me dead—unaware I could still hear every word and expose his betrayal from within.

In my right eye, behind a cloudy contact lens, a microscopic retinal tracker waited for a precise command.

Three fixed visual points.

The candle flame.

The rose window.

The bronze cross.

I had installed the system months earlier, after first noticing Julian’s mistress wearing my mother’s emeralds.

Julian squeezed my wrist harder.

“Sleep well, darling.”

I looked continue reading …