My Father Married Me to a Billionaire in a Coma—Then He Opened His Eyes When He Heard My Voice

---

PART 6 — The Funeral Prepared Before the Death

The flash drive held videos.

Not one.

Dozens.

Ethan had recorded meetings before the accident: Jason bribing doctors, laundering foundation money, threatening Elena Ward, forging board documents, and laughing about how “a dead bookkeeper and a brain-dead heir” could never testify.

Claire watched until her stomach turned.

Then the final video began.

Ethan appeared on screen, younger, healthy, alive in a way that made Claire ache.

“If you’re watching this,” he said, “then Jason moved faster than I expected. The accounts are copied. The names are listed. And if anything happens to me, find Elena Ward’s daughter.”

Claire froze.

On screen, Ethan looked directly into the camera.

“Her mother died because she told the truth. Protect Claire. She may be the only person left who has no reason to protect the Thornton name.”

Claire could not breathe.

He had known about her before the wedding.

Not as a bride.

As a witness’s daughter.

As someone owed justice.

The next morning, everything collapsed.

Ethan’s private nurse—Marla—entered with a silver tray of medication. Claire watched from the chair, pretending to read.

The syringe in Marla’s hand trembled.

Claire saw it.

So did Ethan.

“What is that?” Claire asked.

“Sedative,” Marla said too quickly.

“He’s already unconscious.”

Marla’s face crumpled. “I’m sorry.”

Then she lunged toward Ethan’s IV.

Claire threw herself across the bed and knocked the syringe away. It skittered under the dresser.

Marla sobbed. “He has my son. Jason has my son.”

The door burst open.

Jason stood there, clapping slowly.

“How noble,” he said. “The sold bride becomes a heroine.”

Claire pressed herself in front of Ethan. “It’s over. We have the files.”

Jason’s eyes flickered.

Then he smiled.

“No, Claire. You have copies. I have the house.”

The lights went out.

The monitors screamed.

In the darkness, men rushed in.

Claire shouted Ethan’s name, but hands dragged her away. She kicked, bit, clawed, and heard Vivian shouting orders somewhere beyond the chaos.

Then the monitor flatlined.

One long, merciless sound filled the room.

Claire stopped fighting.

“No,” she whispered.

When the emergency lights flashed red, Ethan’s bed was surrounded by doctors.

Someone pulled a sheet upward.

Over his face.

Claire’s scream tore through the mansion.

Jason leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Widowhood suits you.”

And from across the room, Vivian met Claire’s eyes.

The old woman gave one tiny shake of her head.

Not real.

Claire swallowed her scream.

And let herself collapse.