To keep Hendrix from leaving her, my sister once had Cassidy kidnapped—hung from a beam in a factory and beaten until one of her legs broke.
When Hendrix arrived, all he found was an unconscious Cassidy and my sister standing there, holding a bloodstained whip.
He didn't ask a single question. He pinned all the blame on my sister, and from that moment, their relationship shattered completely.
Later, after Cassidy miscarried, she was abducted again—this time for revenge.
But the men hired for the job mistook my sister for Cassidy. The torture was so brutal that she died on the spot.
I clenched the autopsy report in my hands. It clearly stated that my sister had been five months pregnant when she died.
And the child—the child had been cut out of her body while she was still alive.
My tears fell uncontrollably, smudging the ink.
One of my men stood nearby, his face tight with anger. "Miss Vienna, after Miss Leila died, Hendrix was furious. He said she brought it on herself. He wouldn't even hold a funeral for her."
"Now that you're out, should we just...?" He paused, then drew a sharp gesture across his neck.
I gave a cold, humorless laugh. "No hurry."
"She said my sister was vicious, that she wanted revenge?"
"Then I'll show her what cruelty really means."
That night, Cassidy somehow found my number, and she sent me a video.
On the screen, Hendrix's bloodstained hands were tending to her wounds with a gentleness I had never seen from him.
His face was soft with affection—an expression I had never seen before.
Her voice dripped with pride as she mocked, "You think pouring acid on me will make Hendrix despise me? He only loves me more now—he treats me a thousand times better!"
"The more you retaliate, the more he'll think you're dirty. I'm not like you. I'm pure. My hands have never been stained with blood. That dead sister of yours couldn't beat me, and neither can you."
I couldn't help but laugh—a sound colder than the night air.
She thought I'd come this far because of love.
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.
I stood still, eyes cold as stone. She leaned close and whispered in my ear, voice dripping venom. "I know you liked Hendrix too. Watching the man you gave up for your sister fell in love with me—it must burn, doesn't it?"
"But too bad. I'm pregnant again. Hendrix and I are getting married soon. Your little circus act ends here."
Then her expression darkened, voice sharp as glass.
"Vienna, if you dare touch me, you'll die for it."
She suddenly slapped herself several times, tore her own dress, and collapsed to the ground sobbing.
"Miss Wilson, I never offended you! Why are you doing this to me?"
"Leila tried to kill me five years ago—I forgave her! What more do you want from me?"
"Please, just let me live. I don't want anything anymore... I just want to live!"
