Married to my nemesis

Two days later, Enim found herself standing before an open coffin, her heart encased in a cold shell. Dressed in a sleek black outfit, she felt like an imposter in this somber setting, surrounded by muted whispers and the scent of polished wood. Before her lay Enim's father, his body a stark contrast to the chaos that had enveloped their lives. He appeared peaceful, almost ethereal, as if he were merely asleep rather than lost to the world.

She removed her sunglasses, handing them off to one of her men without a second thought. This wasn't the man she remembered—the one marked by the bruises and pain captured in the photos that haunted her phone. Those injuries had been treated, meticulously erased, leaving behind a serene façade that felt disturbingly out of place. 

Enim's father was dressed in a crisp white suit, tailored to perfection. His hair was styled, every strand placed with care. Even the paper tucked in his pocket seemed like an afterthought, as if someone had planned every detail to ensure he looked like a gentle soul resting in the bosom of the Lord. It was almost too perfect, too composed, and Enim felt a bitter laugh rise in her throat.

As if sensing her turmoil, she reached out, her hand curling around a bottle of beer offered to her. She twisted the cap off, the sound echoing in the heavy air, and took a swig, letting the bitter liquid burn down her throat. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. There should have been chaos, questions left unanswered, but here they were, standing in a pristine chapel, pretending that everything was fine.

Her heart ached not just for Enim's loss, but for the moments stolen by violence and deceit. She took another gulp of beer, the bitterness echoing the growing anger inside her. She wanted to scream, to shatter the calm that surrounded her, but instead, she stood there, a silent sentinel in a sea of grief, grappling with the weight of expectations and the reality of their shattered lives.

"I heard this beer is supposed to be good," she began, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she looked down at the lifeless body before her. "But I've never tasted it myself. The description claims it's fantastic, so it must be, right? But you? You get to lay here in peace while I have to deal with all of this," she continued, gesturing broadly to the room filled with mourners, their shocked faces reflecting the tension that crackled in the air.

She opened another bottle, the pop resonating in the heavy silence, and then poured it over his corpse, the amber liquid cascading down, soaking into the pristine fabric of his suit. "Let me be kinder in making it better for you," she mocked, her voice rising with a bitter edge. 

"I hope you have a good time dying once again in hell," she spat, the words sharp and unforgiving. With a swift, defiant motion, she threw the empty bottle at his face, the glass shattering against him and sending shards across the polished floor. The sound echoed in the stunned silence, leaving everyone in the room wide-eyed and breathless, unable to process the raw fury that had erupted in such a sacred space. 

Enim stood there, heart racing, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction wash over her. In that moment, she had taken control of the chaos swirling inside her, even if only for an instant. The air was thick with disbelief, and she reveled in the shock she had provoked.

She smirked, a defiant glint in her eyes as she strode away from the funeral room, completely unconcerned with the whispers and shocked expressions left in her wake. Adjusting the collar of her long black coat, she felt the familiar power surging through her. Each click of her black leather boots echoed through the hallways, a sharp reminder that she was still very much in control, regardless of the somber atmosphere around her.

As she approached the exit, the heavy door swung open for her, and without a backward glance, she slipped into the waiting car. "Let's go," Enim stated with a tone of finality, and the driver nodded, shifting into gear as they sped off to their next destination.

Once settled, she removed her shades and heaved a deep breath, the cool air filling her lungs. With a determined flick of her wrist, she reached for her tablet. The screen lit up, revealing the security camera feed showing Phoebe seated on her bed, seemingly peaceful. A smirk curled on her lips. This wasn't the sister she used to know, she thought, a mix of nostalgia and apprehension flooding her mind.

But as she observed Phoebe, a knot of worry twisted in her stomach.

What if she's become an undefeatable monster? Enim couldn't shake the fear that if she didn't intervene soon, her sister might spiral into something dark and uncontrollable. She felt a chill run down her spine at the thought of what Phoebe could become without the truth.

A few days ago, everything had shifted. Enim had received a phone call from Britney, a name that brought both hope and a hint of anxiety. She pressed the answer button with a mix of eagerness and caution. 

"Hello, Britney," she greeted, her voice steady but her heart racing.

"Dear, I thought about what you said," Britney replied, her tone resolute. "And I've decided I want to join you. I want to know what Vixen has done to Prudence. If you're trying to find her, then I'm with you."

A genuine smile broke across Enim's face, warmth blooming in her chest at the prospect of having someone else by her side. Finally, someone who understands, she thought, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. This was just the beginning; together, they would unravel the web of secrets and lies that surrounded them, no matter the cost.

"So what do you want me to do?" Britney's voice came through the phone, pulling Enim back from her thoughts. 

Realizing she had been quiet for too long, Enim quickly gathered her focus. "I know you have the password to the security service of the house," she revealed, her tone deliberate.

"What do you mean?" Britney's confusion was palpable.

Enim pressed on, her heart racing with the potential of what lay ahead. "I want you to send me the link to the CCTV camera of the house, along with the password."

"Okay, I'll send it," Britney replied, a hint of hesitation lingering in her voice. 

But curiosity got the better of her. "What do you want to do with the link? What's with the CCTV camera of the house?"

"Nanny Britney," Enim replied, a playful edge in her voice, "you've sent the link to me. Do you really think I'm going to use it against you? Trust me, I know what I'm doing."

With that, she ended the call, feeling a mix of relief and excitement as she waited for the link to arrive. Moments later, her phone buzzed with the notification. Enim's fingers danced over the screen as she opened the message. Sure enough, there it was: the link to the security cameras.

But her heart sank slightly when she saw that the audio had been excluded from the feed. She could almost hear Britney's cautious thoughts; the older woman had never fully trusted her, and rightfully so. They were on opposite sides of the family, after all. 

Yet, Enim couldn't help but feel a flicker of amusement. If Britney thought that withholding the audio was going to stop her, she was sorely mistaken. The audio decoding part was child's play for Enim; she was more than capable of piecing together every sound and whisper from the security footage. 

A smirk crept onto her lips as she tucked her phone away. Britney may be cautious, but she was also naïve. This was just another step toward uncovering the tangled web of secrets that surrounded them.

Enim knew she had to act swiftly; with the link in her hands, she could keep a watchful eye on Phoebe and the unfolding drama within the walls of their family home. Nothing would remain hidden from her for long.

Taking her earbuds, Enim settled into the world of her sister's life, scrutinizing the image on her tablet. Phoebe was sprawled on her bed, her brow furrowed in concentration as she worked on her laptop. But then, as if a sudden thought struck her, she reached for her phone, and Enim's attention sharpened.

"I didn't know it could be real," Phoebe's voice crackled through the earbuds, tinged with disbelief. "What do you think? Could she be the one responsible for her father's death?" 

Enim's heart raced. The question hung in the air like a storm cloud. She could feel the tension seep into her muscles as Phoebe stood up, hastily getting ready for whatever destination awaited her. The urgency in her sister's movements sent a jolt through Enim—this wasn't just idle gossip; this was serious.

A frown etched itself on Enim's face as she connected the dots. One of the people she knew had recently lost their father, someone close to Phoebe. Could this be related? Her instincts kicked in, and she needed to act fast.

"Driver, take me back to the funeral home," she commanded, her tone leaving no room for discussion. The driver responded immediately, executing her request with precision. 

As they drove through the downpour that suddenly engulfed the city, Enim's mind raced with thoughts of betrayal, loss, and looming danger. Then the rain began to fall, the rain was heavy, each drop resonating like a heartbeat, quickening her resolve. 

When they arrived, the atmosphere was heavy with grief, punctuated by the soft patter of rain against the pavement. A solemn figure held an umbrella over her as she stepped out of the car, the cold air biting at her skin.

Enim pocketed her hands, her expression unyielding. She felt the weight of the moment press against her, as if the very air was charged with secrets waiting to be uncovered.

As she walked towards the funeral home, each step resonated with purpose. She was ready to confront whatever truths lay hidden beneath the surface, ready to face the shadows that had loomed over her family for too long. The time for silence was over; it was time to uncover the truth.

Before Phoebe's arrival, Enim found herself enveloped in a silence that was almost palpable. Her driver had dropped her off first, leaving her to wait, heart racing with anticipation and uncertainty. The minutes felt like hours as she scanned the entrance, every sound amplifying her anxiety. Finally, she spotted Phoebe's car approaching, its headlights piercing through the curtain of rain.

The moment she stepped into the funeral home she waited for Phoebe by staying in a corner. But then after waiting some moment and making sure Phoebe had entered, she walked into the funeral room, the atmosphere thickened with grief, but her focus sharpened on the figure standing before the coffin.

There was Phoebe, an image of conflicting emotions—pain, anger, and an unsettling resolve. Enim's steps were deliberate but soft, designed to keep her presence unnoticed. However, the sound of her heels on the polished floor echoed, alerting Phoebe, who turned her head slightly.

Enim raised a finger, a silent command for her men to hold their positions. The air crackled with tension as she confronted her sister. "Why are you here?" she asked, her voice low but steady.

Phoebe turned fully, her glare a mix of disdain and disbelief. "I didn't think you would be a bit rude to your father even at his final rite. Surprisingly, I'm supposed to be unsurprised about this, but I still find it hard to believe. This whole thing is strange. But why wouldn't you be disrespectful? Maybe because you were the one responsible for his death?"

Enim's heart raced at the accusation. "You're jumping to conclusions. I had no idea about his death," she defended herself, the words tasting bitter on her tongue.

Phoebe scoffed, the sound sharp as glass. "Oh, the same way you've skillfully orchestrated your master plan to have my father and sister killed? Isn't it the same way you killed him?" She gestured dramatically toward the coffin, her finger trembling with rage.

"What are you saying?" Enim's voice was a mix of confusion and disbelief.

"Pretending to be innocent in front of everyone?" Phoebe's eyes were fierce, a storm brewing behind them.

"You're thinking everything in the wrong direction. Why would I want to get him killed?" Enim insisted, frustration mounting within her.

"Why would you give your father an undeserving rite at his burial?" Phoebe shot back, her tone dripping with scorn.

"There are some things that are not supposed to be spoken, Phoebe. We need to talk, and I need you to listen to every word I say." 

As the weight of her words hung in the air, Phoebe curled her lips into a mischievous smile, an unsettling calm washing over her. She began to clap slowly, the sound echoing eerily in the quiet room. "Bravo, Enim! Bravo! I didn't know you were such a gifted performer," she mocked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. 

The tension between them snapped like a taut string, both sisters standing on the precipice of a confrontation that threatened to unravel everything they thought they knew about each other. The atmosphere was charged, heavy with unspoken truths and veiled threats, as they stared each other down, the silence almost deafening in its intensity.

"Wow, you're really good at making conversation, aren't you?" Phoebe retorted, a devilish smile curling on her lips. "I didn't come here to chat. I just wanted to see for myself if the rumors were true, girl."

Enim narrowed her eyes, the tension thickening in the air. "Why did you come here, then?"

Phoebe took a step closer, her demeanor sly and provocative. "I came to see you before you rot in hell—right where you belong," she whispered, her words laced with venom.

"But I want to speak with you," Enim pressed, her voice steady but laced with urgency.

Before she could react, a sharp sting pierced Phoebe's arm. She squeaked in surprise, eyes widening as the realization hit her. The syringe slipped from Enim's hand, and Phoebe's body began to crumple to the ground, unconscious before she could even fully grasp what had happened.

Enim watched, her heart a tumult of emotions. She knelt beside Phoebe, brushing a few strands of hair from her sister's face. Leaning down, she pressed her lips gently against Phoebe's forehead, a fleeting gesture of affection mixed with a haunting sense of finality. The stark contrast of her tenderness against the backdrop of their fractured relationship hung heavily in the air, echoing the complexities of love and betrayal that had woven through their lives.

As she pulled back, the cold reality of the moment settled in. This wasn't how things were supposed to be. The world around them felt distorted, the flickering lights and muted whispers of the funeral home suddenly feeling alien. Enim knew she had crossed a line, but the stakes were too high, and the truth too elusive to ignore. 

In the stillness that followed, she took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead. The path was fraught with darkness, but she would navigate it—whatever it took.