The Brutal Funeral Confrontation

Rain lashed against the gray stone columns of the funeral venue. Nora Sterling shivered in a thin sleeveless dress. She had just stepped out of a five-year prison sentence—a nightmare her own husband, Julian Crawford, had orchestrated. Stepping into Arthur Crawford’s memorial, the damp chill bit right through her frail frame.

The mourners turned their heads. Hostile whispers hissed through the crowd.

"Look at that venomous woman. Julian locked her away for five years, yet here she is."

"She’s a homewrecker's daughter. Mr. Arthur treated her like his own flesh and blood, and she repaid his kindness by pulling off his oxygen mask."

"I bet Mr. Arthur died regretting he left a third of his corporate shares to a murderer."

The crowd's disgust spilled over. People grabbed heavy funeral bouquets and hurled them directly at her frail body. Damp petals and thorny stems struck her face and shoulders. Nora stumbled, but she kept her gaze fixed ahead. She pushed through the barrage of flowers. She harbored a single, desperate drive: she needed to say a final goodbye to the only man in the Crawford family who ever cared for her. She just had to reach the coffin.

A tall shadow stepped into her path. Julian Crawford blocked her way. His flawless face twisted into a mask of pure fury.

"Julian," she murmured, her voice shaking.

"Who let you out of prison?" he snarled, his voice cutting over the murmuring crowd. "Who permitted you to show your face at my grandfather's funeral?"

Under the crushing weight of his hatred and the glaring eyes of the guests, her legs gave out. She dropped to her knees on the freezing marble floor. She looked up at his looming figure.

"Please," she begged, tears spilling over her pale cheeks. "Let me send Grandpa Arthur off. Just give me this one chance."

Julian scoffed. His eyes burned with an icy, murderous rage. He would not let a heinous woman like her taint his grandfather's sacred departure.

He lunged forward and grabbed a thick handful of her hair. Nora cried out in shock as he yanked her backward. He dragged her across the piercingly cold, rough stone floor. The brutal friction tore at her delicate skin, rubbing her knees and legs raw as he hauled her out of the hall. He ignored her desperate struggles and the gasps of the onlookers.

Julian dragged her into the rain toward his black Rolls-Royce Phantom. He ripped the back door open and threw her inside. Nora crashed against the leather seats. Before she could sit up, he lunged in like a bloodthirsty wolf. He used his larger frame to pin her down, trapping her beneath him in the claustrophobic space.

His hand clamped around her throat, choking off her air. His other hand grabbed the neckline of her dress and ripped the fabric open.

Panic seized her chest. She thrashed beneath his crushing grip. "Julian! This is Grandpa Arthur's funeral! What are you doing?"

Julian ignored her cries. He swooped down and sank his teeth directly into her exposed shoulder blade. He bit down with brutal force, tearing the skin until warm blood spilled into his mouth. The coppery scent of her blood filled the cramped car.

He pulled back. A cold, mocking sneer curled his lips as he looked at her torn dress.

"You wanted a child with me?" he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "I'll give you one right now."

Julian forcefully yanked her even closer.