Chapter 2 - The Funeral They Wished They Never Attended
Three days later, the rain poured over Scottsdale, washing away the desert dust and turning the gray streets slick and miserable. It was fitting weather for a funeral.
A tiny, white casket rested beneath a canopy of black umbrellas. Only a handful of people stood around it—myself, dressed in a sharp, pitch-black designer suit that cost more than Olivia’s monthly rent, and a few close friends from work who looked at me with a mixture of pity and terror.
My parents and Olivia stood a few yards away, whispering among themselves, casting annoyed glances at their watches.
"I don't know why she's making such a big production out of a miscarriage," my mother muttered loudly enough for everyone to hear, adjusting her diamond earrings. "It's morbid. And frankly, it's embarrassing for the family."
"She just wants attention," Olivia agreed, checking her reflection in her phone screen. "Always has. Remember when we turned sixteen and she cried because I got the car? Same energy."
My father didn't say anything, but his cold, dismissive eyes swept over my frail frame as if I were a piece of trash left on the sidewalk.
I didn't cry. I hadn't shed a single tear since the hospital. Instead, I walked slowly toward them, the click of my heels cutting through the heavy silence of the cemetery.
"Mom. Dad. Olivia," I said smoothly, stopping right in front of them.
My mother crossed her arms, her lips tightening into a bitter line. "Rachel. Finally. Now that this... unpleasantness is over, we need to talk about your attitude. The way you caused a scene at the baby shower, forcing yourself into the pool for sympathy—"
"You punched me," I said. My voice was low, carrying effortlessly over the sound of the falling rain.
Mom scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Oh, stop being dramatic. I tapped your stomach to get your attention because you were being hysterical about the money."
"You punched me," I repeated, stepping closer until she could see the cold, unblinking glare in my eyes. "And Dad told them to leave me to drown. And Olivia laughed."
Dad stepped forward, puffing out his chest, trying to intimidate me the way he had when we were children. "Watch your tone, young lady. You are talking to your parents. You brought this on yourself with your selfish, ungrateful behavior. Now, you’re going to apologize to your sister, transfer her the eighteen thousand dollars you've been hoarding, and we'll pretend none of this ever happened."
I looked at all three of them. My flesh and blood. The people who had decided my life had less value than Olivia’s latest failed boutique.
"You're right," I whispered, a chilling smile touching the corners of my lips. "We are going to settle accounts. Every single penny of it. But not the way you think."
May you like
Olivia smirked, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. "Good. Because my boutique's grand opening is next week, and I need that cash to clear my supplier debts before the investors pull out. Don't be late with the transfer, Rach."
"I won't be," I replied softly, turning my back on them and walking away toward my car. "Enjoy the next few days, Olivia. Savor every single second of your little life. Because it’s the last time you’ll ever feel safe."
