Page 94 of I Would Die for You

“Is this about Dad’s estate?” I ask, disbelievingly.

“You’re not entitled to a penny,” she seethes. “I’m the one who stayed here to face the music. I’m the one who had to deal with the fallout. That money is mine.”

The breath I’d been holding comes out in a rush. She’d thrown a bomb into my life, not leaving a corner untouched, all because our father had called time on her deceit.

“You should have told the truth when you had the chance,” I say.

“So should you!” she hollers.

“That’sexactlywhat I’mgoingto do.”

“It’s too late for that,” she says. “Justice was served a long time ago.”

“Justice?” I croak, looking to Ben and Zoe, who stand paralyzed by unease and apprehension. “An innocent man was convicted of manslaughter and sent to prison for five years. How is that justice?”

“You’re not taking me down with you,” says Cassie, her voice laced with venom. “I won’t let you.”

“You can’t hold me to ransom anymore. There’s nothing more you can do.”

“Are you sure about that?”

A cold shiver runs down my spine as I momentarily allow myself to believe that she still has a hold over me, but the shackles she’s held me by for all these years are finally off. It’s time we both paid penance.

“Goodbye, Cassie.”

“Is admitting to something that happened twenty-five years ago really worth losing your precious family over?” says Cassie in a panicked rush.

“We’re stronger than you think,” I say. “You can’t break us, and neither can the truth.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” she says, before putting the phone down.

A second later, a text message pings through, and when I open it up my whole world crashes down around me.

51

LONDON, 1986

If the phone hadn’t been ripped from the wall, Cassie tries to convince herself, she would have used it to summon help—but who would she ring? Her father? No. Nicole? Absolutely not. If it weren’t for her sister, none of this would have happened.

As Michael’s lips turn blue, Cassie hurriedly looks around for anything that might shock him into breathing. Taking the flowers out of the vase on the coffee table, she throws the water into his face, hoping that it will wake him from his slumber, but he doesn’t even flinch.

Nothing about this feels right, and panic swirls around Cassie’s chest, constricting her airways as she dares to imagine the ramifications if anything should happen to one of the biggest pop stars in the country.

A tidal wave of images floods her mind: Michael being zipped into a body bag, tomorrow’s headlines, the wig-wearing judge seeking justice for his untimely death. The torrent of premonitions almost stops her from breathing, but then she pulls herself together.She hasn’t done anything wrong. She only gave him the drug, which he would no doubt have taken from his own stash if she hadn’t supplied the goods. She didn’t force it on him; she didn’t administer it. It was entirely of his own doing, and no court in the land would be able to argue otherwise.

“Michael, wake up!” she says, hoping it’s loud enough for him to hear, but not for anyone passing outside.

His mouth begins to foam, and Cassie knows she needs to get help, but something stops her. Whether it’s the fear of being embroiled in something she doesn’t deserve or that she’d rather see him dead than alive, she isn’t sure. But his life is ebbing away, right in front of her eyes, and she watches with morbid fascination, counting down the seconds until his pulse slows to a stop.

And as it does, a strange sense of calmness floods Cassie’s extremities, an anesthetic of peace and equilibrium, making her feel that all is suddenly right in the world.

Making sure to put the camera in her bag, she surveys the room, imagining the scene in an hour or so’s time, when the police will be scouring every fiber and surface for evidence of what led to the demise of one of Britain’s biggest pop stars. Confident that she’s removed all trace of herself, leaving only clues that will lead them to Ben, she’s bizarrely satisfied that, by a sublime twist of fate, she’s managed to kill two birds with one stone. It wasn’t intentional, but the sense of gratification is intoxicating.

She places theDO NOT DISTURBsign on the door as she closes it behind her and turns the key in the lock.

“Cassie!”

She freezes, her blood running cold. She needs to take a breath to stop herself from passing out with fear, but her lungs are being squeezed by an invisible force.

---