A cruel, smug smile curled the corners of Rach Miller’s lips, stretching wide with the kind of arrogance that only came from years of thinking you were superior to everyone around you. She stepped closer, invading Selin’s personal space without a shred of respect, and snapped her fingers right in front of Selin’s face sharp, loud, and mocking, as if she was calling out to a stray dog or a servant she owned.“What if you are still alive?” she hissed, her voice dripping with disdain, her eyes sweeping up and down Selin’s frame, lingering on the expensive designer dress, the glittering diamonds at her neck and wrists, the polished, elegant look that made her look every bit the heiress she truly was. Rach let out a short, cold laugh, reaching out to tug roughly at the hem of Selin’s dress, as if trying to prove it was nothing more than borrowed rags. “You’re still trash, Selin. You will always be trash. No matter what fancy clothes you wear, no matter who you pretend to be… you can never
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