At the entrance of the manor's garden house stood a coffin, nailed shut. A bold crimson character for "longevity" sprawled across its lid, grotesque and gaping, as if it were a monstrous mouth ready to swallow the last fragile ties Elaine had left in this world.
Lydia stood nearby, directing the servants with brisk authority. "That's enough. Set it here. Bring the bride out from inside. Once this is done, it will be a perfect match."
Elaine shoved through the crowd just in time to see a group of men rushing into the manor. "What do you think you're doing!" she shouted, fury ringing in her voice.
Lydia flinched at the outburst, her tone suddenly meek, yet every word struck like a blade. "Elaine, I'm only helping your mother rest in peace."
Rage surged through Elaine. She turned sharply
