The sprinklers sputtered and died. The fire alarm cut off, leaving a ringing silence in its wake.

All they could hear was the drip, drip, drip of water falling from the chandeliers.

"He..." Beatrice's voice trembled. "He is warm."

Hermina struggled to her feet, cradling her dangling wrist. "It's the chemicals!" she hissed through gritted teeth. "Heat reaction! Don't touch him!"

Dr. Sterling, the family physician who had signed the death certificates, pushed through the crowd. He looked terrified.

"Dame Beatrice, please," he said, reaching for her. "This is disturbing the remains."

Delphine jumped up. She placed herself between the doctor and the old woman.

She tilted her head. She smiled a goofy, lopsided smile.

"Doctor bad man," she said. "Gave Cedric sleepy juice."

Sterling paled. "She's delusional."

He tried to shove past Delphine.

She grabbed the stethoscope hanging around his neck. She yanked it hard, pulling his head down, then ripped it from his ears.

She shoved the earpieces into Beatrice's hands.

"Listen to the butterflies!" she giggled. "Listen to the butterflies in his chest!"

Beatrice looked at Delphine, confusion warring with hope. She put the stethoscope in her ears.

"Let her check!" someone shouted from the back.

Sterling froze. He couldn't stop her without looking guilty.

Beatrice leaned over the coffin. She pressed the cold metal disc to Cedric's chest, right over his heart.

They waited.

One second. Five seconds. Ten.

Beatrice's shoulders slumped. The light went out of her eyes. She pulled the stethoscope away.

"Nothing," she whispered. "It's silent."

Delphine's stomach dropped.

No. She felt it. She felt the pulse. It was faint, but it was there.

"I told you," Hermina spat. "He is gone. Delphine is mad."

"We must close the casket," Sterling said, wiping sweat from his forehead. "The body is degrading."

Two guards moved toward Delphine with a straitjacket.

She backed up until her legs hit the wood of the coffin. She reached behind her. Her hand found Cedric's hand.

She squeezed. She dug her nails into the soft web of skin between his thumb and index finger. Hard. Cruel.

Wake up, you bastard.

The guards reached for Delphine.

Then she felt it.

A twitch. A distinct, sharp jerk of his thumb against her palm.

It was electric.

Delphine looked up. Her eyes locked with Hermina's. She dropped the smile.

"He pinched me!" she shouted. "The prince is awake!"

The guards grabbed Delphine's arms. They started to drag her away.

"No! He's alive! Check him again!"

They didn't listen. They dragged her across the wet floor.

"Close it!" Sterling yelled.

Workmen lifted the heavy, cracked lid. They moved to slide it back over the coffin.

The shadow fell over Cedric's face.

Hhhhhuuuh!

The sound was terrible. It was the sound of a vacuum seal breaking. A desperate, violent intake of air.

The workmen jumped. The lid slipped from their wet hands. It crashed down, landing squarely on Cedric's shins.

The pain did what the adrenaline couldn't.

Cedric sat up.

He didn't rise gracefully. He jackknifed upward, stiff as a board. His eyes were wide open, the pupils blown so large his eyes looked black.

He stared straight ahead, seeing nothing.

The room went dead silent.

Hermina let out a small squeak and slumped to the floor in a dead faint.

"Cedric?" Beatrice fell to her knees in the water.

Cedric blinked. Once. Twice.

He turned his head slowly. The movement was mechanical. He looked at the water dripping from the ceiling. He looked at the guests cowering by the door.

Then he looked at Delphine.

Delphine was being held by two guards, her hair plastered to her face, her dress torn.

Recognition flickered in his dead eyes. He saw the situation. He saw the threat.

He opened his mouth. His voice sounded like gravel grinding together.

"Let. Her. Go."

It wasn't a shout. It was a command. Low, flat, and hoarse.

The guards dropped Delphine's arms as if she were on fire.

Delphine stumbled forward. She didn't act crazy this time. She ran to him. She grabbed his wet sleeve.

"Bad witch tried to bury us!" She pointed at Hermina's unconscious form.

Cedric looked at Hermina. He looked at Dr. Sterling.

He tried to stand, but his legs failed him. He sat on the edge of the coffin, swinging his legs out.

He stared at Sterling.

"Mr. Hays..." Sterling stammered, backing away. "It was a mistake... the vitals were..."

Cedric raised a hand. Silence.

He turned to the head of security.

"Lock the doors," Cedric said. His voice was weak but carried an unmistakable authority.

The guard hesitated. He looked at Hermina, then at the man who had just risen from the dead.

"Do I look dead to you?" Cedric asked softly.

The guard swallowed hard. He ran to the double doors.

Click. Clack.

The bolts slid home.

They were locked in.

Cedric slid off the coffin. He wobbled for a second, then straightened. He rolled his neck. Crack.

He walked toward Dr. Sterling, his steps unsteady but deliberate.

He didn't ask for a weapon. He didn't need one. He reached into his own soaked jacket and pulled out his phone. It was dripping, but the screen flickered to life.

A collective gasp went through the room. Beatrice tried to stand. "Cedric! What are you doing?"

Cedric ignored her. He turned to the crowd.

"Everyone who is not family or staff," he said, his voice gaining strength. "Leave via the side exit. Now."

The butler scrambled to unlock the side door. The guests didn't need to be told twice. They stampeded out into the rain.

"My legal team will be in touch regarding non-disclosure agreements," Cedric called out to their retreating backs. "Cooperation will be... rewarded."

The room emptied. It was just them now. Delphine, Cedric, Beatrice, Hermina, Sterling, and the guards.

Sterling tried to blend in with the catering staff near the exit.

Cedric's fingers moved across the wet screen. He pressed play on a video.

The sound of Sterling's own voice filled the hall. Panicked. Pleading.

"She paid me half a million! The accounts are offshore... I never thought... I swear she said it was just a paralytic!"

Sterling screamed and fell to the ground.

Cedric walked toward him. His wet shoes squelched on the carpet.

Delphine watched him. Her heart was pounding in her throat. This wasn't the man she married. That man was a boring consultant who drove a Honda.

This man moved like a predator. His weapon was information.

"Time of death, Doctor?" Cedric asked, standing over him.

"It was... Hermina said..." Sterling blubbered.

Cedric lowered the phone. He swiped, and a new document appeared on the screen. A medical file.

"This is your daughter's file, isn't it? The experimental treatment for her leukemia. Very expensive. And not covered by your insurance. A shame if the funding were to be... reallocated."

Sterling shrieked. It was a high, thin sound. He curled into a ball, clutching his head.

Beatrice turned away, sobbing.

"Tell me exactly what poison was used," Cedric said, his face completely blank.

"A cyanide derivative!" Sterling screamed. "Mixed with a muscle relaxant! Succinylcholine!"

Cedric nodded. He looked satisfied.

He sent the file to the head of security with a single tap.

"He's all yours," Cedric said. "Call the police. Tell them a doctor has confessed to attempted murder. Malpractice is too slow."

Delphine felt sick. The smell of fear mixed with the formaldehyde.

Cedric turned around. The phone was still in his hand.

He looked at Delphine.

His eyes were cold. Calculating. He wasn't looking at his wife. He was looking at a loose end.