Odessa POV

“Odessa Sloane.” My mother’s high-pitched tone paralysed me on the spot like a witch casting a spell.

“Mom,” I replied.

“What is wrong with you? Why do you keep on antagonising your sister?”

She pranced towards me with a breakfast martini in hand, a hydration mask on her face and heels so high I wondered how her ankles weren’t broken.

“I don’t have a sister, remember? You only had one child.”

“Odessa Sloane.”

“Stop, Mom, I’m late for work.” ...