I Died a Bride, I Woke Up a Vengeance - Chapter 4: Chapter 4
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The moment I walked through the door, I saw it—the necklace was back in its display case, as if it had never moved.
I didn't waste time. By morning, every piece of jewelry in the house had a discreet tracking device embedded in it.
Zoya's message came the next day: Angie had posted photos of herself wearing my mother's white pearl bracelet.
Turns out, she'd been parading around in all of Mom's jewelry and handbags like they were her personal collection.
The real kicker? She'd flaunted the limited-edition Kelly bag—the same one Claudette Greville had been chasing for years.
Imagine that. Claudette Greville, A-list actress, couldn't get her hands on it, but SunshineAngie—some D-list influencer—somehow owned two.
Overnight, Angie's follower count exploded by a million.
She was suddenly "the mysterious heiress" in her Instagram bio.
I showed Dominick the evidence.
His reaction? A shrug.
"She never asked permission," I pointed out.
Dominick actually took a step back, looking at me like I'd kicked a puppy.
"Lynda, we're family now. Why are you making such a big deal out of nothing?"
He sighed like some tragic hero. "Angie's... simple, but she's got a good heart. Can't you try to get along?"
I felt physically ill.
When I demanded a real conversation, Dominick hit me with:
"Now that we're married, this is your family too. Shouldn't you be looking out for her?"
Any last shred of hope I had for Dominick evaporated right then.
That's when Zoya's text came through—with a bombshell.
Claudette had finally gotten her Kelly bag.
The photo showed her arm-in-arm with Angie, captioned: Thanks, Angie, for the lovely gift.
So that was Angie's game—stealing my things to buy her way into Hollywood.
Two weeks later, Angie announced her "big break"—third lead in a major drama.
"Claudette personally recommended me!" she crowed online.
Her fans ate it up:
Angie's always been elite—she just never needed Hollywood before!
Talent like hers? Of course she skips straight to working with Oscar winners!
Things escalated when fans stalked her to our villa. Photos of the estate "confirmed" her fake heiress persona.
Then someone snapped me leaving for work in full Cartier.
The mob descended:
Why's this nobody wearing Angie's jewelry?!
Probably stole it while Angie wasn't looking!
Angie's response? Chillingly casual:
Everyone relax! She's just the help. I let her borrow things sometimes.
Cue the fawning replies:
You're too generous, Angie! Hire me next!
On her first press day, Angie rolled up in Dad's Porsche like she owned it.
Even Claudette greeted her like an old friend.
Despite being third lead, Angie "accidentally" wandered into the center of the group photo—pushing out actual stars.
That's when I picked up the phone.
"Police? I'd like to report several stolen luxury items—including a car worth millions."
I didn't waste time. By morning, every piece of jewelry in the house had a discreet tracking device embedded in it.
Zoya's message came the next day: Angie had posted photos of herself wearing my mother's white pearl bracelet.
Turns out, she'd been parading around in all of Mom's jewelry and handbags like they were her personal collection.
The real kicker? She'd flaunted the limited-edition Kelly bag—the same one Claudette Greville had been chasing for years.
Imagine that. Claudette Greville, A-list actress, couldn't get her hands on it, but SunshineAngie—some D-list influencer—somehow owned two.
Overnight, Angie's follower count exploded by a million.
She was suddenly "the mysterious heiress" in her Instagram bio.
I showed Dominick the evidence.
His reaction? A shrug.
"She never asked permission," I pointed out.
Dominick actually took a step back, looking at me like I'd kicked a puppy.
"Lynda, we're family now. Why are you making such a big deal out of nothing?"
He sighed like some tragic hero. "Angie's... simple, but she's got a good heart. Can't you try to get along?"
I felt physically ill.
When I demanded a real conversation, Dominick hit me with:
"Now that we're married, this is your family too. Shouldn't you be looking out for her?"
Any last shred of hope I had for Dominick evaporated right then.
That's when Zoya's text came through—with a bombshell.
Claudette had finally gotten her Kelly bag.
The photo showed her arm-in-arm with Angie, captioned: Thanks, Angie, for the lovely gift.
So that was Angie's game—stealing my things to buy her way into Hollywood.
Two weeks later, Angie announced her "big break"—third lead in a major drama.
"Claudette personally recommended me!" she crowed online.
Her fans ate it up:
Angie's always been elite—she just never needed Hollywood before!
Talent like hers? Of course she skips straight to working with Oscar winners!
Things escalated when fans stalked her to our villa. Photos of the estate "confirmed" her fake heiress persona.
Then someone snapped me leaving for work in full Cartier.
The mob descended:
Why's this nobody wearing Angie's jewelry?!
Probably stole it while Angie wasn't looking!
Angie's response? Chillingly casual:
Everyone relax! She's just the help. I let her borrow things sometimes.
Cue the fawning replies:
You're too generous, Angie! Hire me next!
On her first press day, Angie rolled up in Dad's Porsche like she owned it.
Even Claudette greeted her like an old friend.
Despite being third lead, Angie "accidentally" wandered into the center of the group photo—pushing out actual stars.
That's when I picked up the phone.
"Police? I'd like to report several stolen luxury items—including a car worth millions."
End of I Died a Bride, I Woke Up a Vengeance Chapter 4. Continue reading Chapter 5 or return to I Died a Bride, I Woke Up a Vengeance book page.