If grief had a fragrance, Jolene's would be Chanel No. 5 and bourbon.
She sat in the sunroom of her Victorian home, perched on a cream settee like a porcelain doll that had cracked long ago but refused to admit it. Her nails were still perfect. French-tipped. Her eyes were dry. And the only sign she had cried was the mascara-stained tissue she kept refolding like origami.
The Monroe sisters had never been alike.
Where Leona was all flame and noise - bold, sharp, defiant - Jolene was composed. Always poised. The kind of woman who wore heels to take the trash out and said things like, "We don't do scenes. We make statements."
But beneath the pearls and posture was a powder keg of guilt, shame, and secrets… and Mira was about to strike the match.
The knock on her door came at 9:03 p.m.
Jolene didn't jump. Didn't flinch. She knew who it was.
Mira.
The woman in black. The unexpected guest at the funeral. The one who didn't cry. The one who Leona had trusted with her final words.
Jolene stood and opened the door slowly.
Mira didn't speak.
She held up the velvet pouch with the wedding ring inside.
Jolene's face paled faster than cheap foundation in summer heat.
"Where did you get that?" she asked, voice dangerously flat.
"Leona," Mira said. "From the grave. Or close enough."
Jolene stepped aside. "You should come in."
The living room was immaculate. Magazine-level clean. Not a photo frame out of place, not a cushion with a single dent. But it was cold. Emotionally antiseptic.
They sat across from each other - two women bound by grief, suspicion, and a woman who wouldn't rest quietly.
Mira placed the ring on the table. It made a dull, heavy clink that echoed louder than words.
"I thought she pawned it," Jolene muttered.
"She hid it," Mira replied. "With instructions."
Jolene poured herself a drink - neat. Aged scotch. She didn't offer Mira one.
"You still believe in that nonsense?" she asked. "The ghost stuff? The 'unfinished business' crap?"
"She left me footage, Jo," Mira said. "Someone came to her apartment weeks before she died. With a key."
Jolene stared into her glass like it held answers. "You think I had something to do with that?"
"I think you know who did."
Meanwhile, in The Between…
Leona hovered near the chandelier of her sister's home, arms folded, floating upside down in a silk spirit robe. Rodney was close behind, looking stressed and full of holy side-eye.
"You're tempting divine punishment, girl," he said. "You're not supposed to be eavesdropping."
"I'm not eavesdropping, I'm haunting with restraint."
Rodney looked unimpressed. "They start talking about childhood trauma and family secrets, I'm going back to Heaven for a lunch break."
Leona ignored him and watched Jolene's jaw twitch - the only sign she was cracking.
"I didn't know about the footage," Jolene finally admitted. "But yes. Someone came to see her. That much I do know."
Mira leaned in. "Who?"
Jolene paused. Swallowed.
"Langston."
Mira blinked. "Brother Langston?"
"The preacher, yes."
Jolene stood and walked to the fireplace, rubbing her arms like she was freezing from the inside.
"They were seeing each other. Secretly. Leona said it was just fun, just scandal, just leverage. But I think... I think she had something on him. Something big. And when she threatened to go public…"
"She ended up dead."
Jolene nodded. Silent.
The room filled with a heavy stillness.
Then Mira asked the question she'd been holding since the funeral:
"Why didn't you cry?"
Jolene turned, surprised.
"Everyone else did. Even the people who hated her. But you - you stood there like it was a board meeting."
Jolene's face cracked open just a little.
"I cried so hard the night I found out she was gone... I threw up. Twice. Broke a wine glass with my hand. I screamed into a towel so my kids wouldn't hear me. I cried until I couldn't anymore. And by the time her funeral came around…"
She sat down again, empty glass trembling.
"I realized I wasn't just mourning her. I was mourning the version of her I never got to know. The one she only showed to you. To strangers. To the internet. Never to me."
"She didn't trust you?" Mira asked softly.
"She didn't forgive me."
"Forgive you for what?"
Jolene looked Mira dead in the eyes.
"For what I did to our father."
In the spirit realm, Leona gasped.
Rodney dropped his ghost popcorn.
"Well, hell," he whispered.