Lily's brows knitted slightly as the unfamiliar voice struck a chord of eerie familiarity. "Rosie?" she whispered.
A sharp, piercing laugh echoed off the cold concrete walls. Rosie pulled back the oversized hood of her heavy black coat, revealing a face that was a flawless, haunting duplicate of Lily's own.
"It has been a long time, Lily," Rosie sneered.
Lily's eyes widened in shock. "You... got plastic surgery?"
Rosie rolled her eyes with disdain. "So what if I did? Angus wouldn't even spare me a glance before—probably because he was so utterly obsessed with this face. But now? I can replace you without a single shred of fear, because today you die at my hands."
Lily clenched her fists tightly in her lap, forcing a calm, indifferent smile onto her lips. "Aren't you being a bit too confident? Even if I die right now, you will never get what you want. So what if you ruined your face to look like mine? It will still be entirely useless."
