The little baby keeps pointing at his father’s coffin, what happens next is stunning

But, was she absolutely sure? Outside, the wind howled through the stained-glass windows, creating an eerie sound. The candles on the altar flickered, and then one of them went out. A few villagers exchanged anxious glances, murmuring among themselves.

This is a bad omen. A middle-aged woman whispered. The tension in the church rose like an approaching storm.

Clara looked around, feeling as if the walls were closing in. What should she do? No. This was just a coincidence.

But, what about Samuel? Clara held Lucy tightly, her heartbeat drumming in her ears. Margaret stepped closer and whispered. Clara, if you have even the slightest doubt, don’t let them bury Samuel just yet.

The words hit Clara like a knife to the chest. She no longer knew what to believe. But one thing was certain—something was very wrong.

The St. Michael’s Church church remained cloaked in darkness as the funeral stretched on longer than expected. The hushed whispers grew louder, filled with unease. The villagers exchanged anxious glances, stepping away from the coffin as if afraid to get too close.

Clara stood frozen, her mind in turmoil, while Lucy still clung to her, her innocent eyes filled with fear. Clara, if you have even the slightest doubt, don’t let them bury Samuel just yet. Margaret, words echoed in her head.

Clara wanted to believe this was just the imagination of a grieving child, but deep down, she couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling that something was off. Henry had left, but the way he reacted when Lucy spoke of her father made Clara more uneasy than ever. Madame Rose suddenly stepped closer, gently tugging at Clara’s sleeve.

My dear, perhaps you should trust your instincts, she said, her voice low and serious. Clara looked down at her daughter. Lucy’s small hands clutched her dress, trembling.

Mama! Papa is scared! A bone-chilling cold coursed through Clara’s veins. No! It wasn’t possible! Samuel was dead! But, what if he wasn’t? The mere thought made it hard for Clara to breathe. She tightened her grip on Lucy, struggling to find logic amidst the rumors, the fearful gazes of the villagers, and the ominous unease that hung in the air.

Suddenly, from outside the church, a voice called out, breaking through Clara’s spiraling thoughts. Clara! She turned sharply. Standing at the entrance was Matthew, a close friend of Samuel.

He was panting, his face tense with urgency. I just heard! I got here late, but there’s something you need to know. Clara frowned, her heartbeat hammering against her ribs.

What could be so important? Matthew strode toward her, lowering his voice. Before Samuel, before he died, he mentioned something important. I don’t know if this is the right time, but, it has to do with Henry.

Hearing Henry’s name made Clara even more uneasy. Tell me, she said firmly. Matthew glanced around as if making sure no one was eavesdropping, then leaned in closer.

A few days before Samuel passed, he told me Henry kept pressuring him to sell the house. Samuel refused. And the next day, he had his accident.

A wave of ice washed over Clara. She recalled Henry’s words from earlier the way he urgently pushed her to sell the house, the way he tried to remain calm when Lucy spoke about Samuel being trapped. Could it be, that this wasn’t an accident? Clara’s hands trembled.

Matthew, are you saying? Matthew swallowed hard. I have no proof, but Samuel never trusted Henry. He told me that if anything ever happened to him, you shouldn’t trust anyone.

Clara felt like the air had been sucked out of her lungs. No. It couldn’t be.

But the pieces were beginning to fit together in a terrifying way. Lucy suddenly yanked at Clara’s sleeve, her eyes wide with fear. Mama! Papa is crying! The entire church fell into a stunned silence.

Madam Rose took a step back. Others in the crowd looked at each other in growing dread. The child, she can really see him, someone murmured.

Clara swallowed hard and turned to Lucy. Lucy, what did you say? Lucy pointed at the coffin, her voice barely above a whisper. Papa is crying…