Anna's words caught Kathrine off guard.
"What do you mean the person who killed you?" Kathrine asked, her brows drawing together in confusion as unease crept into her chest.
'Hadn't Anna died by suicide?'
That was what everyone believed. That was what the world had mourned.
Anna watched the storm of thoughts flicker across Kathrine's face. The confusion. The disbelief. The fragile certainty of a lie that had been carefully constructed and fed to everyone around her.
Apart from Anna herself, no one knew the truth.
No one knew she had not jumped. She had been pushed with her death painted as despair, her silence buried beneath whispers of heartbreak and weakness.
Anna had expected Kathrine to know.
After all, Kathrine had planted the photographs. The ones that showed Daniel in another woman's arms. The ones that had shattered the last fragile piece of Anna's hope. The ones that had made her believe her marriage was already dead long before her body followed.
