The Funeral of a Ghost
CHAPTER ONE: The Funeral of a Ghost
The rain fell in thin, steady sheets, like nature itself was trying to wash the truth clean.
Ember Hall stood motionless beneath a black umbrella, the gravesite swallowing her father inch by inch as the coffin was lowered into the soaked earth. Around her, blurred faces lingered in stiff silence—some out of respect, others out of obligation, and a few out of morbid curiosity. But not a single soul mourned as hard as she did.
Because to the world, Robert Hall was no longer a man to grieve. He was a disgraced former government auditor. A traitor. A thief. A ghost of the man he had been.
To Ember, he was just “Dad.”
She didn’t cry.
She hadn’t cried when she got the phone call, hadn’t wept as she boarded the overnight flight back from New York, hadn’t let a single tear fall as she signed the forms that turned a scandal into a coroner’s report. But now, as the final thud of earth hit the polished wood, her body trembled with the weight of it.
This wasn’t just a burial.
It was an execution of everything he’d ever stood for.
They said he’d embezzled government funds. That he’d been laundering money through ghost accounts. That he’d died by suicide out of guilt.
Lies. All of them.
And Ember was going to prove it.
“Ember?” A voice broke through the pounding rain. “We should go. The reporters are—”
“Let them wait,” she muttered, eyes locked on the grave. Her jaw was clenched so tightly her molars ached. “They’ve already taken everything else. They don’t get this moment too.”
Her cousin, Jenna, hovered awkwardly beside her, holding out a hand she didn’t take. Jenna’s eyes flicked nervously toward the growing cluster of umbrellas near the gates—the press, snapping photos, scribbling lies into their notepads. Ember didn’t care. Let them see her grief. Let them see her rage.
She was done hiding.
When the last of the crowd dispersed and the cemetery emptied, Ember finally moved. Her heels sank slightly in the muddy grass as she stepped toward the grave alone, the umbrella forgotten. She knelt beside the headstone—bare, temporary—and pressed her palm against the wet soil.
“I know you didn’t do it,” she whispered, her voice cracking for the first time in days. “And I’m going to prove it. No matter what it costs.”
Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled.
Back at the Hall estate—a sprawling, ivy-clad house that felt like it had aged a hundred years in just one—Ember shed her black coat and stared into the empty hallway. Everything was exactly as she remembered. And yet, it all felt haunted.
Photos of a family that no longer existed lined the walls. Her father’s study door was ajar, the faint scent of cedar and worn leather wafting into the hall like a ghost’s breath. That room had once been her sanctuary. Now, it was evidence.
She moved to the study, hands trembling slightly as she pushed the door open. Dust covered the desk. Papers were scattered in chaos, some torn, some half-burned. Clearly someone had been here. Looking for something.
Or trying to destroy it.
She started with the filing cabinet. Empty. The bookshelves had gaps, like volumes had been ripped out. His computer was gone entirely, and only scorch marks on the wooden floor remained where it had once stood. Someone had wiped him clean.
But they’d missed something.
Tucked inside the drawer of his favorite leather chair, she found an old notebook—charred on the edges but still legible. Her father’s handwriting filled the pages, neat but hurried. Numbers. Dates. Names.
And one phrase that sent a chill racing down her spine: Cortez – Project Falcon.
Her pulse thudded in her ears.
Cortez.
As in Vaughn Cortez—the infamous CEO of Cortez Industries. The man who’d made headlines for “restructuring” half the city’s most powerful sectors in record time. The same man whose influence had exploded… just as her father’s life had fallen apart.
Coincidence? No. Ember didn’t believe in those anymore.
Project Falcon. What the hell was it?
She flipped the page. More names. Government officials. Corporations. Hidden accounts. All wrapped in red-inked scribbles and arrows that made her stomach turn.
Her father hadn’t just uncovered something dangerous.
He’d been silenced for it.
That night, Ember sat in the dark with only the glow of her laptop screen and the journal beside her. Every search she ran for “Project Falcon” hit a dead end. Vaughn Cortez’s name led to articles praising his “vision,” his “ruthless efficiency,” his “meteoric rise.”
No scandals. No questions. No flaws.
Too clean.
Too perfect.
And it made her hate him more.
A man like that didn’t rise without stepping on the bodies of others. And if he’d been involved in her father’s downfall—if he had even a whisper of blood on his hands—Ember would make him pay.
Even if it meant walking straight into the lion’s den.
Even if it meant becoming the bait.
The next morning, Ember dressed with the cold precision of a woman going to war.
Her clothes were simple—sleek black slacks, a silk blouse, heels that clicked with authority. Her hair pinned back. Her eyes sharp. She looked like the version of herself that had once argued cases in courtrooms and outwitted smug defense attorneys with a single glare.
Only now, she wasn’t chasing justice.
She was hunting the truth.
And she had a plan.
It started with getting inside Cortez Industries.
She picked up the phone and dialed the number at the bottom of the notebook page—scribbled hastily, barely legible, but intact. A private line.
A voice answered after one ring.
“Cortez Security.”
Ember took a breath. “Yes, I’m calling regarding a possible whistleblower case involving your executive board. I need to speak with Mr. Vaughn Cortez directly.”
There was a pause.
Then: “May I ask who’s calling?”
“Ember Hall.”
Another silence.
Then the line went dead.
Ten minutes later, her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She answered without hesitation.
A deep, smooth voice spoke. “Ms. Hall. You’ve been looking for me.”
Her breath caught. “Mr. Cortez.”
“I don’t take threats lightly. You have ten minutes. My office. Don’t be late.”
The line disconnected again.
Ember stared at her reflection in the mirror.
This was it.
The first move in a game she didn’t fully understand. Against a man who could destroy her with a single word.
But Ember had already lost everything.
Now, she had nothing left to fear.
She grabbed her coat, her father’s journal, and stepped into the shadows.
Ember is on her way to face Vaughn Cortez for the first time—knowing he might hold the key to her father’s death… or be the one responsible for it.
