She looked like royalty. Like someone born into the inner circle, not a bastard daughter who'd clawed her way in through seduction and blood.
Her lips curled the moment our eyes met—a serpent's smile.
"Oh no, Anneliese..." she cooed, her voice dripping with poisoned honey. "You look awful. Guess it's true what they say—when a woman gets old, the bloom fades. No wonder Colino lost interest."
She tilted her head, feigning concern with the skill of a woman who'd learned to lie before she learned to walk.
"Still haven't buried your mother? Want me to help plan the funeral? I mean..." She pressed a manicured hand to her chest. "We are family, after all."
My hands curled into fists at my sides. Rage—white-hot and blinding—boiled up from somewhere deep in my chest until it threatened to burn me alive from the inside out.
"You knew it was a scam," I hissed through clenched teeth. "You knew. That was a con—a scheme that tricked my mother into giving up every cent she had saved. Every dollar she'd earned on her knees, scrubbing the Marconi floors."
Piper's expression shifted into wounded innocence, but the corner of her painted lips twitched with barely concealed amusement.