All I knew was that he was an only son whose parents lived in Portugal. But I'd never met my grandparents.
"Poor little thing. After her mother died, now she has to lose her father too."
"I know, right? Who would have thought that Fabian Castillo would die because of a heart attack? He was still young."
"Thank God she still has Morgan. Poor woman. It's only been one year since they married."
I could hear people whisper about us, and I wondered if they knew that we could hear them. Well, maybe not, because Morgan was crying almost hysterically beside me—she was too consumed by grief, mourning Dad, that she wouldn't have had any idea even if the whole world was talking about her.
I watched again as the soil was poured onto the coffin. This was real. Daddy was gone. He would never make me laugh, carry me on his shoulders or kiss my forehead every night before I went to bedanymore.
And the realization of that made more tears fall onto my cheeks.
"She is so pretty even when she's crying. She's like a doll."
"Look at her skin. It's flawless."
"She would make people stop on the street."
I shifted uncomfortably as I stood, hearing all of those compliments. I knew whom they were talking about. I'd heard too much of it. It wasn't about Morgan.
It was about me.
Morgan sniffed, her sobs finally stopping. I wondered if she could hear the whispers.
God, why were adults so stupid? Why couldn't they just stop talking?
"With that look, she can become a celebrity when she gets older."
I froze. That was the first time someone was being specific about predicting my future. It was the silliest thing I'd ever heard, though. I knew that I wasn't that pretty, not when I looked into the mirror every morning only to see my eyebags and hair all over the place.
I mean, didn't all celebrities wake up pretty? Like all those memes, “I woke up like this,”with Barbie's image.
Morgan squeezed my hand, and I glanced at her. She was still crying, her eyes squeezed shut.
That day, I should have known.
That day, I should have realized that it was the first time the idea struck her head.
???
Pleasing Morgan was the idea that had been planted in my head ever since I lost Dad. All my life, I'd never had any figure of a mother because Mom died when she gave birth to me.
When Dad married Morgan, I'd thought that I could finallyhave a mother. I'd been so over the moon. She'd been so nice, and she was beautiful.
We looked different, though. She was fair, blonde-haired and had eyes so enchanting that it could make me feel like I was drowning in them—her eyes were the color of amethyst.
Meanwhile, my hair was chestnut brown, so dark that it was close to black, my skin tanned. My eyes were chocolate.
I always wondered why people were talking about me instead of her every time they encountered us. It was like her light dimmed when she was with me.
However, she looked pleased every time someone complimented my beauty. She would buy me pretty clothes after she got back from work—she worked as an editor for a magazine—and say, "Cassie, you look so pretty in that. You're my beautiful little princess."
And I would grin from ear to ear. She was like an angel to me, showering me with love and affection after I'd lost my parents. She'd taken care of me when I had nobody else to turn to. She'd sacrificed her life for me. I knew that Dad had left some money and inheritance for us, but she worked hard to top it up so that she could provide for me.
At that time, I always thought,What did I do to deserve her?
Why was she so kind?
