My Villainy Starts With a Coffin

Jasmine was horrified. "What was that, Aya?!"

"What was what?" I retorted calmly. "The cover wasn't shut tightly for some reason. We can't leave even the slightest crack open, Jazzy. Flies could get into Grandpa."

Jasmine was tongue-tied. She stared at the coffin in a panic and tried another approach. "Look, Mom needs you to check our procedure again. The priest seems to have found some problems or something. Can you please go and see what that's about?"

I crossed my arms. "I distinctly remember having checked the procedure three times with the priest yesterday."

"No, no! That's not enough!" she snapped impatiently. "God, can you please possess a little self-awareness for once? You're supposed to be helping your husband's family, damn it!"

She was right about one thing. I had helped them since their grandfather died three days ago. I had less than ten hours of sleep in all three days. The Whitakers had put all of their effort inviting the city's biggest elites to the grand funeral while I was the only one planning and executing the entire thing.

[Never underestimate Jazzy! Girl's got 200 IQ points too!]

[He can't get out of there as long as that bitch's still there! Gah, can she just fuck off already?! Best Girl's running out of breath!]

[Jazzy's done it. Now we watch Aya do whatever she can to please her. Jazzy has trained her like a pup!]

I balled my hands into fists.

I had been married to Vincent Whitaker for five whole years. I cooked. I cleaned. I learned to make his favorite soup in exacting details, down to the perfect temperature like I was some sort of soup engineer.

I remembered the birthdays of my in-laws. It did not matter if it was my mother-in-law's, my sister-in-law's, my aunts-in-law, or any relative who was either born or made a Whitaker. I remembered their likes and dislikes, their yums and yucks, and never once gave a gift they could refuse.

I did all I could to be the best wife and in-law any family could have asked for. And yet, for some reasons, Jasmine never warmed up to me. She always took Stephanie's—my so-called best friend—hand during family gatherings and loudly said things like, "Oh my god, you're starting a studio of your own? That's so fun! I wish some people could be a little more interesting and ambitious too!

"I wish you were my sister-in-law, Stephie. You're beautiful, elegant, talented, and kind. You're perfect!"

All I could do was to smile glumly to myself whenever this happened.

Well, not anymore. That life ends today.

"Aya Burton!"

I reeled. Calling me by my maiden name? That was the first sign. She always referred to me as that whenever she wanted me to acquiesce. I always did.

"The priest is waiting for you!" Jasmine snarled. "We need to make sure the procedures are right, Aya. Do you hear me? Everything has to be perfect! You can't afford for it to be anything less. Mark my words!"

[She's going for another critical hit! Lying to save two lives, go!]

[Stephie, please just hold on! Jazzy is coming to rescue you!]

[Can't Aya Bitch-ton just drop dead and die already?! Her existence literally improves *nothing!*]

"Jazzy. The priest and I had already discussed the details of Grandpa's funeral, including the passage that would be inscribed on his gravestone. Then he explained it to the entire family, and Mom gave him the green light. There's literally nothing else to be done about that," I replied matter-of-factly.