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"Mommy! Daddy! I'm home!" A high-pitched screech woke me from my sleep.

I rolled over in my bed and groaned into my pillow once I heard Victoria's high-pitched voice echo throughout the entire mansion.

I closed my eyes, trying to ignore that the spawn of Satan was in my house, but she ruined it again.

"HELLO! Your favorite daughter is here!" She screeched again.

I grunted in my pillow and looked at my phone. 8:25 am. She really couldn't come any later? I scrolled through my contacts, finding the one person who could actually convince me to not murder my sister.

It rang twice before she answered.

"Please tell me that's not who I think it is?" Alice asked in an annoyed voice.

"Unfortunately." I responded as I scowled.

"Jesus Christ, she's more annoying than I remember. I'll get ready and meet you at your room with the alcohol." Alice mumbled.

"This is why you're my best friend." I smiled as I sat up and rubbed my eyes.

"And don't you forget it." She said playfully before she hung up.

Alice was my best friend, and my only friend. She was pretty much my adopted sister. She was an orphan, living on the streets for most of her childhood. She survived by pickpocketing and stealing. My father found her at one of his jobs when she was thirteen. Alice pickpocketed him and stole his Rolex when he wasn't looking. He was surprised by her courage and her talent, and offered her an ultimatum: work for him, or keep living on the street. She said accepting his offer was the greatest decision she ever made, and we'd been best friends ever since she came to live with us.

Alice never told us about her life before the American Mafia, but whatever she was doing before this made her one hell of a thief. She taught me most of what I knew about how to steal effectively, and I'm not talking about small jobs. I'm talking about government banks, rival warehouses, and intercepting shipments.

I cursed at myself for never being a morning person as I got up from my bed and slowly made my way to the bathroom. I combed through my mess of hair, and threw on some black jeans, a tight-fitting black crop top, and a black leather jacket. I finished my look with some black booties with silver spikes on them, just in case I needed to roundhouse Victoria in the face.

Once I finished, my door barged open, revealing Alice in a black crop top, black joggers, and a baggy red and black flannel and white high-top sneakers. She kicked my door open since her hands were filled with a large bottle of whiskey and some glasses. She looked at me with a mischievous smile plastered on her face.

She made her way to my dresser, placed the bottle down and opened it with her teeth. She poured two glasses before handing me one.

Whenever I was near Victoria, I had the overwhelming urge to bash her head against a wall until she stopped breathing. In order to prevent that, Alice and I found that we were a bit more docile while we were blackout drunk. So, it had been a tradition that every time she came to curse us with her presence, we opened up a bottle of whiskey and downed the entire thing.

"Bottoms up, bitch." Alice said as she smirked and lifted her drink. We clinked our glasses against each other before downing the entire glass.

"So, why is Barbie visiting?" She asked as she poured us another drink.

"She's attending the ball next week. Mom always wants us to appear like we're a functional family in public." I laughed as I took my refilled glass.

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