The days after Nadia’s death were the most toxic, suffocating days I had ever experienced.
And that didn’t stop the press. They swarmed outside the estate gates, cameras flashing, eager to capture a glimpse of the very window where Nadia had hung herself.
The funeral wasn’t what I expected either. It wasn’t like the ones on television, where people wept openly, their sobs cutting through the air. Instead, it was eerily quiet. Only Drew, his mother… who, surprisingly, didn’t cry as much anymore… and a handful of family members attended. I wasn’t allowed to speak to any of them. I stood beside Alexander, feeling the weight of their stares like invisible shackles. We were all dressed in black.
A man with jet-black hair, introduced as Mr. Bolivar, Alexander’s new bodyguard stood nearby.
Ce
