Chapter 5

"Shut up. You're not even worthy of calling her your sister. I'm here for Faye's funeral, so back off. I'm not in the mood to start a scene today." Cassandra raised her hand like a queen—pale, slim fingers pointing straight at Mara's nose, her tone ice-cold and commanding. Her eyes were sharp and full of venom, practically drilling into Mara, as if she could rip off that fake righteous mask she was wearing. That look—just for a second—chilled Mara to the bone. Her body trembled unconsciously. It was so familiar... Just like the look Faye had in her eyes right before she died. "You..." Mara was stunned by Cassandra's freezing glare and that overwhelming presence, left with nothing but clenched fists and suppressed rage. The bodyguards had already come over to drag Cassandra out. "Don't touch me. I just have a few words to say, then I’m gone," Cassandra shook them off and walked straight up to Mr. Gerald, speaking calmly, "Mr. Hawthorne, I was Faye’s best friend online—Cassandra from the Taylor Group. I dreamt of her last night, and she asked me to come dressed like this… She told me to pass on a message to you. But if you don't want to hear it, I’ll leave right now." As she said that, her eyes flicked to Mara—whose face had suddenly gone white. "What did Faye say?" Mr. Hawthorne grabbed her arm anxiously, but then hesitated, narrowing his eyes. "How do I know you're not making all this up?” Cassandra leaned in and whispered, “I know that back when you were young and trying to win over Mrs. Hawthorne, you told her you were still a virgin. I also know Faye used to wet the bed until she was seven. Do you still think I’m making this up?” An awkward expression flickered across Mr. Hawthorne’s serious face, then his eyes turned red. At last, he believed her. Those were secrets only the two of them shared—he and Faye. Back then, they'd even joked: "If either of us ever spills, we’re cutting off the grandpa-granddaughter bond.” They say spirits with unfinished business often appear in dreams, asking the living to help complete their last wishes. “What did Faye say in the dream?” Mr. Hawthorne asked emotionally. Faye’s departure was so sudden, he never even got to hear her last words. He remembered how close they used to be; she’d tell him everything… yet she never once mentioned someone like Cassandra in her life. And weirdly enough, though this girl looked nothing like Faye, he kept seeing pieces of his granddaughter in her. "Mr. Hawthorne, can I see Faye first?" Cassandra’s voice was low, filled with weight. Mr. Hawthorne, though desperate to know what Faye said, could tell Cassandra wouldn’t speak another word until she saw her. So he gave a slow, heavy nod. Cassandra walked over to the casket. As she looked down at that cold, lifeless body that would never wake up again, rage began to boil in her chest. In this lifetime, she would make sure Mara and Ethan paid. She’d send them straight to hell. "Mr. Hawthorne, who picked this funeral dress?" Cassandra frowned, staring at the black gown on Faye—a dress she had always hated. A flash of cold fury passed through her eyes. "I picked it myself… for my sister," Mara choked out through the tears, sobbing as if her heart would break at the very mention of Faye’s name. Everyone knew the bond between the Hawthorne sisters was legendary in high society. Now, hearing that Mara personally picked the dress and seeing her cry like that, people couldn’t help but feel even more sympathetic toward her. Smack.