I Returned For Revenge, Not For LoveCHAPTER 1

CASSANDRA’S POV

“You’re free to go,” the guard muttered, eyes filled with contempt. “Go out and don’t come back. With a child’s blood on your hands, you should count yourself lucky you’re even leaving this prison.”

I stood still for a moment. The sunlight was almost blinding after the months I’d spent in a dark cell.

Now that I was free, the memories were washing over me again. A year ago, I was Cassandra Bennett, a wealthy and respected woman. I was married to the love of my life, and we had a beautiful daughter. But now, I was known as the heartless murderer who let my own child die.

My life was perfect until my best friend, Naomi, suddenly called me one day, crying for help. She had gotten involved with a scammer who stole everything from her and she had nowhere to go.

I brought her into my home, thinking I was just being a good friend, but that was the beginning of my problems.

At first, it felt good to have Naomi close again. We’d grown up together and she was more like a sister than a friend. She cried in my arms, swore she had nowhere else to go, and I believed her. I always believed her.

My husband, Isaac, welcomed her politely but kept his distance. He didn’t like her staying so long, but I brushed it off. “She needs me right now,” I told him. How could I have known that pitying her would cost me everything?

Naomi was sweet to my face, always offering to help with the baby, always smiling at Isaac, and always calling my brother, Julian,the only man who ever truly cared about her. But behind that kindness was a shadow I refused to see.

Before I knew it, Isaac and Julian had changed. Naomi had them wrapped around her little finger. She stopped being grateful and helpful, and started acting like the owner of the house. And even worse, my husband and brother always took her side.

I felt lonely, and my daughter, Solana, was my only friend, and Isaac never helped me take care of her. He was always busy doing something irrelevant with Naomi. I was so alone that I developed depression, but still, I was a good mother.

The day that I went to prison, Solana and I had come back from early Christmas shopping, she had gone up to her room and I was putting the decorations away when Naomi walked in.

“You look tired, I made you some tea.”

I was reluctant to accept it, but I did. And that was the last thing I remembered.