Chapter 4

The man in front of me was Freddie Fleming, the victim's eldest brother. In my last life, he had led the charge and shoved me to the ground. He didn't listen when I tried to explain, and it was his blade that struck the first fatal wound.

Freddie pulled up the transfer record on his phone. "Look for yourself. The account that got the funeral expenses is under the name 'Lydia'. Are you still gonna deny it?"

He turned to Charles and said, "Don't be fooled by her. Listen to what she said!"

He played the voice messages one by one. "Take this ten thousand. Your sister's husband was weak, so don't blame me that he's dead. And I guess your nephew was doomed to die early.

"I just got this Porsche, and you lot made it dirty! You should be lucky I'm not asking for compensation

"If you wanna make this ugly, bring it on. My family runs Lincoln Enterprise—do you think I'm scared of you nobodies?"

Hearing that, the neighbors started cursing.

"She already wired the funeral money and still won't admit it."

"That really sounds like Lydia's voice. How cruel! Three people are dead because of her!"

"The world has gone mad. She was speeding, and she's blaming the victims for the accident? I saw the video. She hit them before they even stepped on the crosswalk!"

I turned to Maeve. "You told me the car was scraped and asked me to transfer ten thousand for repairs. How did it become funeral money? Besides, I've been sick the past few days—that voice is clearly edited!"

Maeve visibly panicked. "Nonsense! I only called to hurry you home for dinner. Richard and I have always treated you well. You can't pin this on me!"

She'd expected I'd be stabbed as soon as I stepped inside. She didn't plan for so many complications.

Right then, Vanessa came out of the house. "What's going on? I heard Lydia caused trouble and tried to frame Maeve."

Maeve immediately put on a hurt look. "Mom, tell them that I haven't left the house these past few days. You've been unwell, and I've been taking care of you!

"Just tell the truth. Don't let anyone pressure you," Maeve urged.

I looked at Vanessa, silently hoping. In my last life, Vanessa didn't hear me scream; by the time she came out, I'd already bled out.

Richard's family didn't like living with Vanessa, so I usually helped take care of her.

This time, with Vanessa as a witness, I'd clear my name soon.

Vanessa hesitated, glanced at Maeve, and then confirmed, "Yes, Maeve's been the one caring for me. She hasn't left the house. As for you, Lydia, you left with the car for the past few days. Where have you been?"

I could hardly believe what I heard. My legs went weak, and I nearly fell. "What are you talking about?"

She steadied me and murmured in my ear, "Don't blame me. Richard's the only son I have left, so I can't let Maeve get hurt. Your family's powerful; let them defend you."

After she helped me up, her face changed. "Lydia, you can't push this off on someone else. Maeve isn't like you—she's not an heiress. She wouldn't have the nerve to do such a thing!"

As soon as she said that, the crowd turned on me.

"Right, Maeve wouldn't do something like this!"

"She's always been good to Lydia. Why would Lydia pin it on her?"

"Yeah! Only the Lincoln heiress would be brazen enough to do this!"

"I'm 100% sure that it's her. She even called the victims worthless! Let's see how she weasels out of this!"

Vanessa stood protectively in front of Maeve as if she were guarding a treasure and pleaded, "Please handle this with Lydia. This has nothing to do with Maeve!"

My heart sank. Maeve had never cooked for Vanessa and barely visited her. I'd been the one to care for her when she was ill. Now, knowing I was being framed, she still sided with Maeve.

Freddie pulled out a sharp knife and threw the victims' pre-death photos at me.

"Your mother-in-law already said you weren't home. You still want to deny it?" he spat.

"Look at how horribly Rachel’s family died! Their new house is still under renovation—they were about to move in. My nephew was just a month old!"

His voice rose. "If it weren't for you, Rachel’s family would've been so happy!"

A tide of relatives broke into sobs.

"I'll give you the money back. We don't need you to pay for the funeral. You know why I didn't call the police?" He stepped toward me, advancing like a hunter. "Because I want you dead."

He swung a knife toward my head. I grabbed Freddie's arm and begged, "It really wasn't me. If you've got the wrong person, then you'll get your hands dirty for nothing!"

Charles lunged forward and wrested the knife away from Freddie. "Freddie, I trust her. She came here with me off the plane."

I blurted out, "Please check again. The transfer only shows my name as the note. Look up the account. Are you sure it belongs to me?

"And my car has a dashcam. Let's just watch the footage!" I suggested.

He barked, "I think you're stalling."

Thinking fast, I pointed at the house. "Search inside. I just got back. Your brother can check and see if the clothes you saw me wearing during the funeral are still in my sister-in-law's room."

Maeve had picked a showy dress that day—she expected me dead and probably planned to claim my things as her own.

Maeve cried out, "No! Don't—"

Before she finished, the group rushed inside and rifled through her wardrobe. Laid out among the pile was a pink tweed dress, the one Maeve had worn to the funeral.