Taking Back What My Sister Stole novel Chapter 170

He took Cecilia’s arm and helped her up. “Cilla, Grandma loved you most. She wouldn’t want to see you in such pain.”

Looking at Bonnie’s photo, Cecilia rasped, “I want to stay here with Grandma.”

“Cecilia.” Larissa, eyes red, accused her angrily.

“You have no right to stand here. If you hadn’t taken Priscilla’s place and caused so much trouble, Grandma wouldn’t have died from the shock.”

She was overwhelmed with grief. “The only reason you’re not in jail is because I wasn’t capable enough, but you’ll never be welcome here.”

Cecilia’s impersonation of Priscilla had long become public

knowledge, and everyone who came to pay their respects looked at her with disgust.

“Stealing someone else’s identity and angering the old lady to death, and she still has the nerve to show up here.”

“So vicious. Isn’t she just here to make things worse?”

“Just get out already. Don’t be an eyesore here.”

Amidst a crowd of hostile and contemptuous gazes, Cecilia straightened her back.

She looked at Larissa and said, “I’ve lived with Grandma for so many years. Do you really think she couldn’t tell the difference between me and Priscilla?”

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She then turned to the Dillon couple: “You can’t even recognize your own daughter, and you call yourselves Priscilla’s parents?”

She swept her gaze over the family of three. “The ones who should leave are you.”

With Bonnie gone, all the forbearance she had held in finally erupted.

The real Cecilia had never been one to admit defeat.

“That’s right, Cecilia. Grandma always treated you like her own granddaughter. After all, she loved Priscilla so much, but Priscilla left before her time,” Larissa choked out.

The implication was that Bonnie only cherished Cecilia as a stand–in, using her to remember Priscilla.

Cecilia narrowed her eyes sharply, a mocking smile playing at her lips.

“Priscilla died, and Grandma would rather remember her through me, an outsider, than tell you anything about Priscilla.”

“And you, all these years, have known nothing about Grandma or Priscilla. Do you even deserve to be called parents?”

Every word she spoke at Bonnie’s memorial was powerful and resounding.

She was demanding justice for Priscilla.

And seeking fairness for Bonnie.

Those who had been attacking her with words gradually fell silent.

In Cecilia, they saw deep grief and hatred:

Thinking it over, it did make sense.

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Parents who care about their children would always pay attention. especially when they’re not around.

Priscilla had been dead for three years, and the Wilburn family knew nothing about it, while Bonnie had willingly kept it a secret.

Besides, everyone had only ever heard of the Wilburn family’s son and daughter–never of another daughter.

The atmosphere was tense and deadlocked.

Wesley put his arm around Cecilia’s shoulders and looked at Dillon. “Cilla just wanted to spend more time with Grandma.”

Dillon knew that if this continued, it would only embarrass the Wilburn family, so he was about to back down.

But Tania spoke up first, “She’s the murderer who killed my daughter! Grandma was kind–hearted and covered for her, but I can’t just stand by and watch the killer appear before me.”

She wept in utter misery.

“Even if we were too busy to pay attention to Priscilla, does that change the fact that this murderer stole her identity?”

“We neglected Priscilla, but does that mean she should have impersonated her?”

Each shrill accusation once again branded Cecilia as a murderer.

Stealing the identity of the dead was a truly despicable act.

Someone sighed along with the crowd.

“Yeah, no matter what, she’s still a murderer.”

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“Ugh, just get out of here.”

Cecilia’s face was deathly pale.

She was only out on bail now; the police had yet to announce the final results of their investigation.

So she didn’t even have the evidence to defend herself.

Wesley frowned, his cold gaze sweeping over the crowd.

The voices of gossip and abuse quieted down again.

Tania was nearly fainting from crying in Larissa’s arms.

Larissa, too, looked utterly grief–stricken. “Mom, please pull yourself together. Priscilla is watching from above and wouldn’t want to see you so sad.”

“My poor Priscilla, so kind–hearted, yet she brought home a thankless wretch who cost her her life, and now has even caused Grandma’s

death.”

The`mother–daughter and sisterly affection was being put on full display by their performance.

Wesley gripped Cecilia’s hand tightly, feeling the tremble in her fingertips.

“Cilla.” Wesley wanted to take Cecilia away, since things were clearly not in her favor right now.

Besides, she was pregnant.

“I’ll take you home. We can come back to see Grandma tomorrow.”

Cecilia shook off his hand, her gaze icy. “Why should I leave?”

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She wasn’t a murderer. Why should she have to go?

“Cecilia.” Wesley’s tone grew heavier, his breath somber. “The child is important.”

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