All I knew was that when I woke up the next morning, he had already set the table with a full spread of dishes.
“Diana, I made these myself. Come taste them and see if they’re good.”
I glanced at the food and almost laughed aloud. Yes, he had “made” them.
But I’d seen Vanessa’s social media post last night—these were nothing more than their leftover dishes.
“Oh, by the way, Diana,” he said casually, “after I left yesterday, you stayed in the bedroom the whole time, right? You didn’t see anything in the living room?”
Looking at his probing expression, I found it almost amusing.
“No. I was too tired and slept straight through.”
Hearing this, he relaxed, hiding it behind a practiced calm.
“You’ve been holding off on cremating Cherry because you wanted justice for her, so she could rest in peace. But since it was just an accident, it’s time to let her be buried. Let’s set the funeral for tomorrow."
"I’ve already informed the relatives. Mom rushed back. Tonight, we’ll have dinner with the family, and tomorrow morning, we’ll go to the crematorium.”
I didn’t answer. But a heavy bitterness welled in my chest.
Yes—witnesses had been bribed, and even the evidence was destroyed.