The Wealthy Family Can All Hear My Thoughts

As the nation's top forensic pathologist, I was brought back to the Harper family.

They looked at my face, but recoiled at the smell of disinfectant clinging to me.

The adopted daughter, Violet Snow, wearing a two-hundred-thousand-dollar princess dress, gently urged me: "Raven, Dad bought you new clothes. You should change out of those---they're bad luck."

I glanced at her coldly.

[What an act. Too bad for her---the last person who pulled this kind of stunt is still soaking in my specimen cabinet. I even sawed her skull open.]