They grasped the true nature of the situation; this was a private matter for the Anderson family. The icy warning in Theodore's words was meant solely for his kin. As the guests bore no grudge against him, they had no cause for alarm.

In the wake of the unfolding spectacle and the surprise arrival of Darian's ex-wife, curiosity wound itself tightly around each guest, holding them fast. They remained, captivated, desperate to witness the ensuing drama.

Theodore caught sight of their immobilized forms, their silence answering his challenge. With a subtle signal to the priest, he indicated it was time to carry on.

The priest nodded in response to Theodore's discreet cue. His voice, serene yet commanding, addressed the crowd.

“We're going to deviate from the usual schedule today. Before the prayers, a confession will be made." His gaze sought out a particular figure, seemingly swallowed by the surrounding crowd.

A gasp echoed through the crowd as bodyguards moved towards Jasper.

Seeing this, Jasper and his comrades froze, their bodies held hostage by their rising fear.

A burly bodyguard plowed his way through the crowd, his grip firm as he yanked Sharon from behind Brielle and Jasper. He marched her up to the coffin, her body a puppet under his command.

Jasper and his cohorts, crippled by fear, remained frozen, their heads bowed as if hoping to avoid witnessing the spectacle unfolding before them.

Sharon's panicked voice soared through the room, a desperate plea “Darian, help me!" she cried, but her words were abruptly muzzled by the cold threat of a gun aimed at her.

The priest, standing before her, held his scripture tenderly. He turned to her with a soft, resolute gaze.

“Ms. Sharon," he said gently, “it's time for your confession."

Sharon dropped to her knees, shaking. She dared a quick look at the priest, her voice quaking, "Wh-what... What should I... confess to?"

The priest maintained his calm demeanor.

"You're aware of what must be admitted."

Her heart fluttered wildly, eyes darting from the priest to the coffin.

Fear and reluctance washed over her like a chilling tide, her gaze darting nervously behind her.

Sharon was painfully aware of her less-than-reputable past, but to expose it before a sea of onlookers was unthinkable. How could she remain a fixture in high society if she admitted to her social climbing and secret life as a mistress?

A bodyguard nearby seemed to sense her hesitation. The chilling sound of a gun's safety catch being released echoed in the room, the gun now aimed directly at Sharon.

Recognizing the deadly seriousness of the situation, Sharon fell to the ground, her voice breaking.