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Once I’m done with my tea, I get up and hear the news.
“De Vil Industries and McKessonville Agencies are proud to announce their merger. Lucinda De Vil has posted on Instagram that she and Ricardo McKessonville are finally to be wed on Christmas Eve.”
“Turn it off, Jasper.”
I look at the screen and frown. My sister is wearing a tacky fur coat, and it makes me sick. Unlike my sister, who uses real fur in her designs, I use faux fur. Synthetic blends. It’s just better for the environment.
Looking out the window, I see a small lamb walking around, eating grass, and I smile. The left side of my face burns, and I frown. A constant reminder of how my family hates me.
“Your medicine.” I look around to see Jasper holding a small medicine cup in hand. He softly touches my face. “It’s going to be alright, Cru-Cru. I could see the pain.”
If Jasper wasn’t gay, I would have asked him to marry me long ago. As it is, his husband stands outside, throwing feed to the chickens. I chuckle and down my meds. “Thank you, Jasper.”
“Boris says that everything is ready to go. He has confirmed your slot at the fashion show, and you are still anonymous, as requested.”
The pounding in my eye intensifies at the thought of having a confrontation with my sister. Which is surprising, considering I do love to argue. Lucinda always believed I killed our father and was quick to tell the police that in a statement that was full of lies. There was no point in trying to tell the police that my sister was full of shit. The rumor mill made sure to tell everyone I was a horrid person.
Even with me having to go to the emergency room and therapy for months after the incident, I never told the truth. The police discovered it was self-defense, and Jasper was never mentioned in the conversations. I would protect him at all costs.
Once my father was buried, Lucinda never allowed me to set foot on the De Vil property again. I was banned from all fashion houses, which led me to start my own.
CDV Fashions.
No one’s seen my face in ten years.
Until tomorrow, that is.
“Jasper, I want to arrive early,” I tell him as Boris comes in and straight to him. He laughs and kisses his man.
“Of course. We should arrive about three hours early so you can set up.”
“Perfect. Let’s take Muffin with us.” Muffin is my cat, but she claimed Jasper the second she set foot into the house. He loves that cat and would be lost without her, I believe.
“Should I bring the cat stroller as well?” Boris chimes in with a smirk. He knows how much we love to spoil our little girl.
“Yes.” Jasper and I say at the same time, and we chuckle. Boris shakes his head and rolls his eyes, walking off while mumbling about rotten cats.
“Smiling looks good on you, Cru,” Jasper says before he walks away. Ugh, I’m happy. Fuck happy. Brooding is where the fun is.
* * *
My first fashion show.Well, one that I’m showing my line. I look at the lineup and notice my sister is closing. I’m the opener. That is perfectly alright. It will give me a chance to make an impression and set up the surprise I have for her.
For the first time in years, I’m giddy. Biting my lip, I settle my mask on my face. No one needs to know who the hell I am. Besides, this will only work if I remain in the shadows. Making my way through the clothing lines, I’m impressed, except for my sisters. It’s not that they aren’t brilliant; they are. She hasn’t changed her style in the least since working with Ricardo. What a waste of talent to keep the same style after all this time.
Tearing her clothing with scissors, I cut each dress to have a letter. When the models walk the runway, it will spell out “traitor,” and the very end piece will have the word “liar” on it. It’s wrong of me, but it doesn’t matter.
“Crucinda.” Boris’s whisper makes me jump, but I quickly put the piece of fabric back on the rack. “What have you done?”
“What I felt like should have been done a long time ago.”
I shrug my shoulders and place the scissors back in my emergency pack.
“You are better than that.” His admonishment makes me feel tiny. I adore him and Jasper, but they still think I should be above revenge. Unfortunately, I’m not.
There’s no time to get into it, though. My models come over in their undergarments, waiting to be clothed.
Once I put each piece on, I line them up in the order they should go out. A red and white pantsuit followed by a black-splattered white dress. Each piece of clothing tells a story. The first piece is innocence. The last piece is seductive, enticing to the dark side of my nature.
