I squinted down the hall upon hearing the click of high heels. Please, don't tell me it's her again.

I put out my cigarette quickly, then lowered my sunglasses to my nose.

She strutted down the hall like she owned the place, which she practically did. The Robertsons were the richest family in town, and they constantly threw around money like confetti whenever things didn't go their way.

She had large white curls and a petite blue dress, and as always, that suited goon her parents hired was tailing her like some kind of body guard. The Robertsons thought they could have anything they wanted, even stuff they didn't need, like that stupid butler.

So, long story short, I hate my sister.