Chapter 6

Cassandra didn’t hesitate—she slapped Mara hard across the face. Mara was stunned, holding her burning cheek, eyes wide in disbelief at Cassandra. Everyone else froze too, thrown off by Cassandra’s sudden outburst, totally not knowing how to react. Still seething, Cassandra reached into the coffin and grabbed a handful of white roses, chucking them right at Mara’s face without a second thought. Mara stood stiff like a statue, her pale face quickly swelling with red marks. Tears streamed down her cheeks, looking all helpless and pitiful. But Cassandra’s domineering presence was too intense—no one around even dared to step forward and stop her. “Mara,” Cassandra snapped, voice ice-cold, “Faye clearly told you—she hated black, especially that damn black dress. She treated you like a real sister, and you repay her by bringing this crap here to disgust her at her own funeral? What the hell’s wrong with you? Were you just waiting for her to die?” It wasn’t enough you helped kill her—now you’re throwing the one thing she hated most right in her face on the day she’s laid to rest? Mara’s heart skipped a beat at Cassandra’s icy words. Trying to pull herself together, she raised her voice in a forced show of confidence. “Cassandra… you—Everyone around here knew how close I was with my sister. If you’re trying to drag our bond through the mud, I swear I’ll sue you for defamation.” Who was this woman? And how did she know so much about her and Faye’s past? Ethan, seeing the woman he loved being hit, quickly stepped in. He grabbed Cassandra’s wrist, eyes reddened with anger as he said coldly, “Cassandra, today’s Faye’s funeral. If you came to say goodbye, fine. But if you keep making a scene, don’t blame me for stepping in.” Cassandra's eyes were teary, staring coldly at the man in the sleek black suit with his carefully groomed face. To the world, Ethan was the golden boy of L City—perfect, graceful, dazzling. Maybe if she didn’t know the truth, she too would’ve believed in the act—and maybe even been moved by the ‘heartbroken fiancé.’ But now, everything about him just made her sick. “Keep your filthy hands off me.” She yanked her hand back, jabbing a finger right at his chest, her expression icy as she glared up at him. “Ethan, don’t you dare stand there and talk like your conscience is clear.” She’d never forget—it was this funeral that he and Mara cooked up together to celebrate her personal downfall. With Ethan stepping in, Mara wasn’t scared anymore. No way was she backing down now. She wiped her tears, stepped forward and snapped back, “Cassandra, don’t overdo it. Yeah, I know Faye didn’t like black. But wearing black at a funeral is tradition. I don’t see what’s wrong with following it.” Funeral. Like Faye was already gone. Like it was all over. The moment that word left Mara’s lips, Cassandra was so furious she almost slapped her again. How long had Mara been waiting for this moment? How long had she been itching for her death? All just so she could stand here and, without shame, call it a funeral right in front of everyone? “I’m warning you, Faye is not dead…” Cassandra shouted, pointing at the body in the coffin, shaking with rage. Mara staggered back a step, face going pale like paper. “That's enough, Miss Taylor,” Gerald finally barked, slamming his cane on the ground, voice cutting through the tension. “Whatever message Faye gave you, say it. But if you’re just here to cause chaos, you need to leave—now.” He believed Cassandra because she knew two of the family’s secrets—clearly something Faye had told her in a dream. That’s the only reason he hadn’t kicked her out so far. But even he was running out of patience.