Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 163802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 655(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 655(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
“Hello, sis,” I chirped. “About time you showed up. I almost fell asleep waiting for you.”
Soo Min gaped at me, frozen amid the puddles of gasoline she’d been splashing about our kitchen.
“So how you been?” I leaned against the wall, folding my arms. “The afterlife been treating you okay?”
Sue’s eyes rolled in her head, flicking from side to side calculating her chances of getting to a safe distance, lighting the match, throwing it, and beating it out of here before I chased her down and stomped her into the floor.
“This— This isn’t what you think—”
“You know, I’ve been hearing that a lot lately, and most of the time, it wasn’t what I thought,” I admitted, “but what I’m thinking now is that you’re trying to burn down the manor with the last of your family inside”—I stared pointedly at the container—“and I’m pretty sure I’m right.”
“You’re not!” she shrieked.
Soo Min looked pretty fucking stupid. Not that there was ever a time that I didn’t think she looked like a drooling moron—my biological copy be damned. But still, standing there in her big rubber boots; tight, black romper; hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun; a white mask covering her face and mouth; and a yellow fanny pack hanging around her middle, I could once again only think—
Drooling moron.
“You have no idea what’s going on here, you gutter-trash bitch. You couldn’t possibly understand—!”
“That you murdered our mother and got your accomplice, Reynard, to frame Courtney for it?”
Her jaw went slack behind the mask.
“And that was after you murdered Mrs. Prado and that poor girl from the post office, Tracy Williams?” I beamed even wider when she dropped the container, stumbling back. “See? I understand just fine.”
Sue’s jaw worked. “H— How—”
“How did I figure it out?” I tsked. “See, this is the problem with narcissists. You get so hopped up on your own supply, deluding yourself into thinking you really are smarter than everyone, that you seriously underestimate your opponents.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sue, I was onto you since three days after you killed Omma—when the call from the lawyer sent me into her office armed with her password. I found quite a bit tucked in the many files on her computer. Quite a fucking bit. But still,” I said, “I probably still might have been fooled if you hadn’t told me your motive straight to my face, and put the proof in my hands.”
“What? What the fuck are you talking about! I never did anything like that!”
“But of course you did.” My airy tone didn’t waver. “Don’t you remember? It was on the very day that we were reunited for the first time in ten years. You handed me the reason Omma had to die—her will. The will... that disinherited you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So what? Fuck that will, I didn’t care about that. What’s ten thousand dollars, a shit car, and some rotting furniture mean to me? SueNaturals is a global brand. I make ten thousand dollars in a week.”
No, bitch, you literally don’t! Hera in heaven, you can’t stop lying for ten seconds. “Whether or not that’s true—and we both know it’s not—”
“Yes, it is!”
“No, it’s not!”
“Is,” she shrieked. “Is, is, is!”
“Agh, you’re such a fucking child,” I exploded—losing my cool, chill gotcha vibe fast. “I know ShitNaturals is in the toilet—pun intended. Bird-shit face cream, anyone? What the hell were you even thinking?”
“It’s not my fault!” Incensed eyes burned me over the mask. “Asian cultures have been making face creams from bird droppings for centuries. How was I supposed to know people would get a fucking rash?”
“Because they were using the droppings from a specific species after it had been sterilized! They didn’t just scrape Polly Wanna Cracker’s shit off the newspaper and dump it in a jar!”
“Well, I know that now!”
“Ugh!” I screamed, throwing up my hands. “Enough of this. It doesn’t even matter except it’s probably one of the many reasons Omma decided to disown you. You’d become a massive embarrassment that made Omma the joke of the charity clique. The real reason she started hiding away in the last year is because of you.” I scoffed. “Not that you gave a shit about that or her feelings.
“You only started to care when you discovered what it truly meant to be disowned by Omma. What she personally had to leave didn’t matter. It was all about Appa, and the estate.” Holding up a finger, I gestured for her to wait while I fished my phone out of my robe and pulled up the photo I took three days after losing my mother. “I, Jong Woo Kim, leave the entirety of my estate to my daughters, Sarang Kim and Soo Min Kim, to be transferred to them upon the death of my wife, Ha-eun Kim—”