As we walked through the lavish home, Mia greeted everyone with a warm smile, introducing me as her beloved daughter. The opulent surroundings seemed to amplify the tension, and Timothy's presence became an unspoken challenge. Mia, however, glossed over any potential discomfort, determined to mainta
Mia's claim that we hailed from a wealthy background rattled me to my core. My memories flashed back to my lower middle-class father, struggling to pay bills and drowning his sorrows in alcohol. I had to chip in at a young age to make ends meet. The stark contrast between Mia's illusions and the rea
The sudden outburst drew the attention of everyone around us, creating a chaotic scene. "What's going on?" Timothy demanded, his voice edged with concern and confusion as he took my hand. Monica, seemingly in distress, pointed accusingly at Timothy. "You! You're the one! You did this to Stella!"
"Evie," she said, her tone dripping with barely concealed disdain as she capped off her lipstick. "To what do I owe the displeasure?" I swallowed hard, bracing myself for the confrontation. "Scarlett, I... I need to talk to you." She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "I'm listening." "Look
TIMOTHY POV The noise of the party faded as Timothy was pulled upstairs by Andy, the dimly lit hallway becoming a backdrop for an unforeseen confrontation. As they reached the guest room, Andy swiftly locked the door behind them, sealing them in a space where secrets would unravel like a tightly w
"Tim, we'll talk more about this later," Andy said, his voice cryptic. Timothy was too weary to turn his back on Andy. He searched his mind for answers that seemed to slip through his grasp. The room's atmosphere shifted when he spotted Andy’s lazy grin. "What's going on with you, Andy?" Timothy
The opulent halls of the Fitzgerald mansion echoed with the dwindling sounds of the party, the grandeur now tainted by the presence of death. Determined to find Timothy amidst the labyrinthine corridors, I called out his name. "Timothy!" I called again, pushing through pockets of people spread thr
"Darling, let's not make a scene. We'll deal with this matter discreetly,” he said, taking her arm. I wondered how exactly he planned on “dealing” with the matter, given his track record. That only left me more intrigued by them. They’d already proven themselves not to be trusted. But Mrs. Fitzg