But in this world, the ones who stayed "clean" never last long.
Her lies might fool Hendrix, but not me.
Later, I went into my sister's old room to sort through her belongings—only to find the closet was bare.
Her favorite jewelry—the ones she cherished most—were all gone.
And in Cassidy's social media photos, hanging around her neck, was one of those very pieces. She even captioned: [A gift from my beloved.]
Rage burned low in my chest. I forced myself to stay calm and focused on arranging a proper funeral.
But the morning of the service, an uninvited guest arrived.
Cassidy swaggered into the hall with two lackeys in tow, barking orders while pointing around the room.
"Smash everything that belonged to that bitch!"
"Without my permission, Leila's funeral isn't happening!"
Then she noticed me, feigning surprise, lips curling into a sweet apology.
"Oh, it's Vienna. My apologies. Hendrix said murderers like your sister don't deserve funerals. You wouldn't want to make him angry, would you?"
Her men stormed the hall, knocking over flowers and urns.