Rose slammed her apartment door with such force that a framed photo crashed to the floor, glass shattering across the marble entryway. She didn't bother to pick it up. Instead, she kicked off her heels, sending them flying across the room where one knocked over a crystal vase, water and flowers spilling onto the pristine white carpet.She didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore.Her hands shook as she poured herself a drink, missing the glass entirely on the first try. Amber liquid pooled on the counter, but she ignored it, finally managing to fill the tumbler on her second attempt. She drained it in one gulp, the burn in her throat nothing compared to the inferno raging inside her chest."She's alive," Rose whispered, her voice raspy and strange to her own ears. "All this time... she's been alive."The reality of what had happened at the gala crashed over her in waves. Camille, her pathetic, weak, doormat of a sister, had orchestrated her downfall. Camille, who had always been the good
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