I didn't argue. I didn't scream. I just nodded slowly, keeping my eyes fixed on the marble floor, and walked past them like a ghost haunting my own life.
Once inside the guest room, I locked the heavy oak door. I walked over to the en-suite bathroom, turned the shower on to its maximum heat to mask any sound, and finally allowed myself to breathe.
I took the black mourning brooch off my dress. With a steady hand, I twisted the silver backing. A tiny micro-SD card slipped into my palm. I pulled my encrypted laptop from the false bottom of my suitcase and inserted the card.
The video from the funeral loaded instantly. High-definition. Perfect audio.