er bloodshot eyes, dark circles, and chapped lips from nights without sleep. She wasn’t bluffing. Amanda was missing, and no one knew where she’d been these past few days.  Chase turned and walked away without a word, but Kimberly’s voice followed him, “Chase, if anything happens to Armanda, I won’t forgive you!”  I reached out to tuck Kimberly’s messy hair back into place, but my hand just went right through her. I sighed, resigned, “Kimberly, I’m sorry I let you down. You deserve happiness.”  I couldn’t touch her anymore, and my voice couldn’t reach her ears. Chase’s departure dragged me away. After taking a call, he drove off, his face dark with worry when he stopped again. He dialed his assistant. “Look into Amanda…”  I almost laughed. The man I had loved for years was only now starting to search for me four days after I vanished. By now, my body must be starting to rot.  Just then, Nicole burst into the car. “Chase, why have  you been dodging me lately?”  Nicole pouted, looking all hurt and upset. Chase, wary of their relationship being exposed, quickly hung up on his assistant. He looked exhausted, barely able to handle Nicole. “Nicole, I’ve got a meeting. If it’s nothing urgent, I need to get back to the office.”  Nicole clung to his arm. “Chase, my art exhibition opened today. Aren’t you coming to support me?”  That snapped Chase back to reality. He was buried in work and had overlooked both Amanda’s disappearance and Nicole’s exhibition, which she’d spent a whole year preparing for.  “My bad. Let’s head over.”  I chuckled at the phone he left behind. Years of devotion, all for nothing. Nicole’s exhibition was at the Coconut Palm Gallery, a spot! had dreamed of for my own showcase. Nicole and I loved painting from a young age, and our dad even got us a mentor from the Central Academy of Fine Arts. My teacher always said I was the most gifted student he’d ever taught.  Being part of the Kennedy family meant painting was just a hobby. Our parents pushed us toward finance, expecting us to manage family affairs or stand by our future husbands, not just be decorative artists. Over the years, I secretly painted, dreaming of my own gallery someday. I died before making that dream a reality, and here was Nicole, living it.  She was always different. Our family had only recently found her and showered her with love. If she wanted the stars, they’d find a way to give them to her. How could they let her take on any responsibility?  Trailing behind them, I felt a pang of sadness. My death was so sudden, and there was so much left undone. I overheard the compliments, “Ms. Kennedy’s work is stunning. What a talent!”  .  “No wonder she’s so blessed. This ‘Water Lilies‘ piece is breathtaking.”  Water Lilies? My eyes landed on the painting, which was unmistakably mine. As I scanned the room, I saw more of my paintings. The ones I kept in my basement studio were now displayed in Nicole’s gallery. How could she boldly claim my work unless she knew I was dead and couldn’t come back?  It was her. She must have had me killed.