Chapter 391
A portrait of Mrs. Bridges hung front and center, the elderly woman in the photo smiling with a kind, gentle expression.
Dressed in a simple, solid black outfit, Sienna shed her usual clinical elegance, bearing no traces of overly dramatic mourning attire.
She sat completely alone, quietly occupying the very edge of the back row.
She neither purposely hid herself to avoid suspicion nor took the initiative to step forward and comfort the family.
She just lowered her eyes quietly, like any ordinary guest at a funeral.
Guarding her isolated corner, she calmly bid farewell to the elderly woman she had once known.
In the front row, Mrs. Bridges’ daughter, Daisy Bridges, was collapsed by the casket.
She sobbed until her heart broke, crying herself hoarse.
Because Mrs. Bridges’ husband was bedridden, the young woman was the only family member present.
Her miserable state drew frequent sighs of pity and sympathy from the surrounding relatives and friends.
But through her agonizing tears, her peripheral vision kept darting back, shooting venomous glares at Sienna in the back row.
Daisy had noticed Sienna the moment she stepped into the room.
Daisy’s eyes burned with intense hatred.
The malice hidden beneath her facade of grief was barely concealed at all.
Meeting her gaze, Sienna’s cool eyes behind her sunglasses grew even sharper.
Sensing Daisy’s hostility, the bodyguard standing behind her stepped forward and asked, “Ms. Sloan, should I arrange for two more men to come inside p>
Sienna waved her hand, signaling him to stand down.
Standing tall and rigid near the family section at the front of the crowd was Jarred Sterling.
His solemn black suit accentuated his strikingly sharp features and icy demeanor.
As the captain of the Special Ops Unit, he was well accustomed to keeping his emotions in check.
Today, facing the death of the nanny who had raised him for years, a heavy veil of sorrow covered his eyes, yet he remained perfectly composed and restrained.
But from beginning to end, his piercing, frosty gaze remained firmly locked onto Sienna in the back row.
Hadn’t he ordered the news to be blocked? How did she still manage to show up?
Jarred’s brows furrowed tightly, a trace of suppressed unease flickering in his eyes.
As the memorial service moved to the segment where the family read the eulogy, the solemn music faded, and the room grew quiet.
Daisy, who had been huddled in the front row, suddenly stood up and spun around with red, swollen eyes.
Tears still streaked her face, but her eyes looked as if they were dipped in poison, stabbing straight toward the back row.
“Sienna Sloan! How dare you show your face here p>
In an instant, the entire room fell dead silent.
Like a tidal wave, every single gaze crashed onto Sienna in the back.
Sienna slowly raised her eyes and stood up without an ounce of panic.
Her slender, upright figure stood amid the sea of stark white mourning decorations, her expression completely unbothered.
Her beautiful face held nothing but. absolute tranquility, displaying the same collected composure she had when seeing patients in her clinic.
“I’m here to pay my final respects to Mrs. Bridges,” she said softly.
“You don’t have the right p>
Her eyes bloodshot, Daisy pushed past her surrounding relatives like a madwoman and stormed forward.
With trembling hands, she pulled a neatly folded piece of paper from her bag and held it high above her head.
“This is the suicide note my mother left me before she died! She clearly wrote that if she passed away unexpectedly, her murderer would be none other than you, Sienna. Sloan p>
Her words dropped like a bomb, sending the crowd into an uproar.
A few nearby relatives immediately reached out to take the letter, quickly passing it around.
Some looked on in shock after reading it, while others muttered and whispered their speculations.
Fractured murmurs of doubt rose and fell, creating a dense cloud of hostility that enveloped Sienna.
Everyone’s gazes morphed into looks of scrutiny and suspicion.
Jarred’s gaze turned somber, his aura instantly becoming sharp and frigid, radiating the oppressive authority of a man long accustomed to power.
Stepping forward, his deep, icy voice immediately rang out with unquestionable authority.
“Give me the letter p>