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God, I was such a fucking fool. I not only opened my heart to Simon, but to my new so-called ‘friends,’ only to be stabbed in the back.
I’m rolling up my favorite set of scissors in their carrying case when the door opens. I don’t look up, too angry to get into it with whatever security guard is coming in to escort me out of the building.
“Ahem,” a female voice says. Jacqueline. “That was quite the scene.”
“It’s fashion. Temper tantrums and bitch fits are the norm,” I tell Jacqueline shortly, regretting that I already put my pointy objects away.
She waves a hand airily, unconcerned. “It’s fine. My purposes were well-served, regardless.”
I stop, immobilized as the pieces fall together in my mind. “Did you put Simon’s ex with him intentionally?”
“Oui,” Jacqueline says unapologetically. “And I insured that your designs were... well,lessthan they already were.” She presses her perfectly lined lips together as she gloats, as though she’s trying to keep from laughing out loud—at me.
I cross my arms, glaring at her.
“You needed to learn what you refused to see. My nephew is a man of appetites and expectations, and you meet neither. With your designs, or with... yourself.” She looks down her nose at me, scanning me from head to toe, making me feel like a slug unworthy of oxygen or her presence.
It’s as though I can hear her thoughts...
You’re not good enough. Not for Simon—he deserves better. Not for House Corbin—inexperienced, unimaginative hack. You’re nothing but a small-town girl who should know her place, which is at most as the Apple Saucing Queen.
That voice is all too familiar—it’s my mother’s, but amped up, playing to the insecurities I hold at my core. I’ve fought hard to override them, deny them, and change them, and usually, I do well. But right now, when I’m at my lowest, it’s so damn hard to shut them up and they’re hitting all the best hits—my heart and my art.
There’s another voice screaming to be heard, though—my own, the hopeful, dream-filled little girl who refused to be quieted by her mother, and now, by Jacqueline. It ignites something in me. Jacqueline threw gasoline on the fire already burning through my soul, but instead of destruction, I can feel myself turning into an absolute inferno.
“Quite proud of yourself, aren’t you?” I don’t let her answer, letting the words roll off my tongue with every bit of agony I’ve been holding in since the day I left home for FIT. It’s not all Jacqueline’s fault, but I lay it at her feet, nonetheless.
“I was excited to come here, thrilled at the opportunity to work at your side, learn fromtheJacqueline Corbin, the woman who forged new paths in the industry. I looked up to you and wanted to follow in your damn footsteps. Then I get here and you’re...” I scan her up and down, sneering at the disappointment I see in front of me. “Were you that threatened by my designs? So worried that something fresher than the stale, same old redux you’ve been spitting out for decades might be better that you had to sabotage them? You highlighted me as a Fashion Female Under 25 and then had my collection walk looking like shit. That reflects on you and House Corbin too.”
She scoffs, seeming surprised that I’m daring to speak back to her at all, much less so aggressively. I don’t give a fuck.
“As for me and Simon, maybe he did only see me as a stupid whore, but if so, what does that say about your parenting? How could you raise a man who sees women that way—as disposable, playthings only good as a flashlight replacement? Oh, that’s right, you’re not a parent. Not his mother. You never wanted him. He told me that too, or maybe that was one of his tactics to get me into bed. I don’t know at this point.” I shake my head, trying to focus. “All I know is that if this is what House Corbin and your so-called family are like, I don’t want anything to do with them. I’d rather be alone and work as an assistant for Nora for the rest of my life than sell myself short like that.”
She stands there slack-jawed and wide eyed, but I don’t give her a chance to get her thoughts together. I shove past her and out the door, putting House Corbin, Jacqueline, and Simon behind me.
As quickly as I can, I make my way back to my apartment and then look around. I need to get out of here... now.
What do I need? I leave the fashion inspiration board on the wall, souvenirs of my days with the other designers and dates with Simon set around where I saved them. I don’t want any of that. I grab my clothes and shove as much as I can into my suitcases willy-nilly. And then, with one last look, I shut the door and go downstairs to call a taxi. I’m going home to New York City and putting this shitshow behind me. Hopefully, this fire will carry me there until I can collapse in my own bed.
