English Version: Sands & Sparrow

34

Ophelia elegantly puffed on her cigarette. "You know... I have to be honest with you. I'm not really nice. I have to act like a lady 24/7 in front of the media, but in truth, I'm sociopathic... a sadistic bitch," she said, letting out a menacing grin between puffs of smoke.

"Why am I here? Why do you want to talk?" Aveline asked, grasping the end of her blouse, anticipating an answer she was afraid to hear.

Ophelia puffed a cloud of smoke, resting her elbow on the table, her eyes boring into Aveline. "How long have you known Margo Sinclair?"

"I've only known her for months? Five... six? I have no idea," Aveline stammered, confused by the question.

"Do you want to know about her?" A mysterious smile crept onto Ophelia's face.

"No, it's enough for me not to know her well," Aveline responded uneasily, gently wiping the sweat from her forehead.

Ophelia chuckled. "I admire your blind faith; your intentions are noble, but living in denial isn't wise. You should learn the truth, Aveline. Your ignorance will tear you apart," she remarked thoughtfully, flicking ashes onto the coaster. Ophelia poured some tea and gently pushed it toward her. "Margo Sinclair... she's not just rich. She's at the top of every pyramid. You see, my great ancestors were born rich, but compared to Margo, I'm a slave. A peasant. A commoner. Her family history is vague, yet everyone within the elite society admires her. We don't know where she came from, but we've felt her power," she continued, smoking her cigarette.

"Why are you telling me this?" Aveline frowned in confusion.

"You should know a part of the book. Read some of the pages," Ophelia responded meaningfully, blowing smoke upwards then smirking. "You see, we have a common interest, Aveline. We both like Margo." A surprise lingered on Aveline's face, but she slowly regained composure, acting emotionless. Her throat went dry, as if her words were unwilling to take flight. Sadness glazed her brown eyes.

"Do you know how powerful she is? If she compliments a company, stock market prices rise. Margo owns large companies. She feeds thousands of families. You might think we are two of a kind, but she only welcomes my presence in between her legs," Ophelia said, toying with her golden curls with one hand while letting the cigarette burn down in the other.

"I am an aristocrat... but I have no power over her," Ophelia's grin turned devilish as she crushed the cigarette on the expensive plate.

Cold sweat glistened on Aveline's brow. She clasped her hands tightly. "Why are you telling me this? I-I don't understand," her voice faltered with tension, yet she managed to meet Ophelia's gaze.

"You are a walking time bomb, Aveline. I know about your past. You have an interesting... job," Ophelia emphasized the last word with a meaningful smirk.

"I'm a sex worker if that's what you mean. I can't deny that," Aveline tried to sound confident. Her past might make her crumble, but she had to be firm, even if it would tear her apart.

"Yes, you are what you say," Ophelia uttered unaffectedly, "a whore deserves a billion respects. It's a tragedy, you know. Jesus defended a whore, but his followers made a whore the standard of sins and a gateway to hell. Such irony." She sipped her tea and bored her eyes into Aveline. "You will die to see heaven. You will die to be punished in hell. Why can't we believe in blessings and karma? Why wait to die to get your reward?" Ophelia poured another tea and sighed deeply. She swirled the spoon in the cup without taking her eyes off Aveline. "That's how our society works... oh well."

The fear seeped into Aveline's veins but never reached her face. She remained calm, her complexion pale, her eyes as steady as if she were reading a book. She let out a grieving sigh and turned to Ophelia, showing she wasn't afraid to face her.