The first flicker came from the projector near the altar.
It was subtle—just a shift in light against the polished wood and white lilies—but it was enough to draw a few curious glances. The priest paused mid-sentence, confusion tightening his voice. A low murmur rippled through the crowd.
Elliot barely noticed at first.
He was too busy standing tall, one hand resting over his black tie, the other casually wrapped around the wrist of the woman beside him—Vanessa, who leaned in just slightly too close for a funeral. Her perfume was sharp, expensive, and completely out of place among the scent of roses and candle wax.
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