Chapter 1

My funeral was quite the spectacle.

A crystal coffin surrounded by white roses—my favorite flowers when I was alive.

My four brothers stood by the coffin in black suits, their faces as pale as ghosts.

At the front, my fiancé, Enoch Leblanc, stood frozen. His trembling fingers brushed the edge of the coffin. His usually indifferent eyes were now swollen and bloodshot with grief.

How ironic.

When I was alive, none of them could even be bothered to look at me. Now that I was gone, they acted like they couldn't live without me.

I hovered above them, watching with cold detachment from the ceiling. If souls could laugh, I'd be laughing my head off right now.

*****

"Erika..." Enoch croaked, his voice hoarse. He choked out, "I'm sorry. I..."

It was funny that he only knew he was wrong now.

I floated right in front of him. Even though I knew he couldn't hear me, I couldn't help but sneer, "Oh, Enoch, who exactly are those crocodile tears for? Back when Denise framed me for stealing her necklace, weren't you the one who said, 'I never thought you were that kind of person'?"

Muffled sobs echoed through the funeral hall. Jayden Kline, my eldest brother, punched the wall and scratched his knuckles. He was a titan of business, but at that moment, such an invincible man like him seemed as vulnerable as a child.

"It's my fault," Jayden murmured. "If only I'd listened to her back then."

Marcus Kline, my second elder brother, stood silently in the corner and clenched something tightly in his hand.

I approached him, stunned to see it was the handcrafted leather wallet I'd given him for his birthday last year. Back then, he tossed it aside with a sneer, saying, "I don't need this cheap trinket." Now, he was clutching it like a treasured possession.

Dylan Kline, my third elder brother, was a rational lawyer. Now he stood there with tears streaming down his face and kept his gaze fixed on my face in the coffin.

Sherman Kline, my fourth elder brother, was on his knees. His shoulders trembled uncontrollably. He had always defended Denise most fiercely, but now he couldn't even bring himself to look at my lifeless form.

A nurse entered solemnly and handed an envelope to my adoptive mother, Simone Yarwood. "These are Ms. Kline's personal effects," the nurse said quietly. "She wrote this during her lucid moments in the hospital."

All eyes were glued to that thin envelope. I sneered because the real deal was inside. It was irrefutable evidence of all Denise's misdeeds over the years. I risked my life to find the truth.

With trembling hands, Simone opened the envelope. A stack of photos spilled out, revealing my brothers' beloved Denise in a secret meeting with the CEO of their corporate rival. They exchanged documents, including the very confidential files that had nearly bankrupted the Kline Group.

"Impossible!" Sherman sprang to his feet. "Denise... How could she..."

More photos lay scattered across the floor. They revealed how Denise tampered with my father, Farrell Kline's medicine, bribed a servant to frame me for theft, and conspired with Enoch's cousin to sabotage my engagement to Enoch.

Enoch picked up a photo, his face instantly drained of color. In the photo, Denise was smiling as she poured something into my cup. That night, I suddenly suffered "food poisoning" and nearly died.

"What... have we done to her?" Dylan said, his voice trembling in anguish.

I floated above the crystal coffin, gazing down at my own peaceful form. How ironic. Now they finally knew who truly loved them, but it was far too late.

"Not too late at all," I whispered, though nobody could hear me. "My vengeance has just begun."

The air in the funeral hall grew thick with tension. Photos lay scattered across the floor like daggers, mercilessly ripping away the carefully crafted facade Denise had maintained for years.

Jayden was the first to react. His veins bulged as he gripped the photos. He barked, "Get these checked immediately and see if they photoshopped!"

Dylan wiped his face and picked up several photos, examining them carefully. He said, "No need for verification. They're real. The angles are covert, but the details are sharp. There's no sign of digital manipulation." Even the usually composed lawyer's voice was trembling.

I sneered from above. Of course, they were real. I nearly died getting these photos.

"Impossible! Denise would never do something like this," Sherman shouted, his eyes blazing with denial. But as soon as his gaze landed on the photo of Denise tampering with Farrell's medicine bottle, his voice died in his throat.

Enoch stared at the photo of the poisoning. Suddenly, he spun around and bolted for the door.

Marcus grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. "Where the hell are you going?" he demanded.

"I'm going to make that bitch pay!" Enoch said, his eyes burning with terrifying fury.

Seeing them like this didn't bring me the relief I'd imagined. If only they had believed me earlier, even just once, and maybe things wouldn't have come to this.

Memories came flooding back like a tidal wave, taking me back to that day a year ago when I was first recognized and taken to the Kline residence.