𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 | 𝘩𝘢𝘸𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦

06

quinn

how had i seen emily?

how had i seen someone i didn't even know?

i'd only seen her in the tabloid articles i vaguely remembered shoving in grayson's face the night before- and then again, her face had not left a lasting impression on me besides the fact that we could pass as siblings.

her hair wasn't memorable- a sort of mix between strawberry blonde and ginger that was dull and unflattering in most hairstyles she wore. but her face- a little softer than mine, her eyes too big for her face and a startling, emerald green, and the little pixels of brightness next to her irises were what I assumed were gold flecks from what I could see through the quickly taken paparazzi picture.

it was starting to come together. slowly, but surely. the reason why grayson was so distant- and flinched whenever my middle name was mentioned. the reason why jameson was just a teeny bit too suspicious of me- though you'd never stop doubting a person who'd just inherited a billionaire's entire fortune, would you?

the fact remained that emily was meant to be the one. in all newspaper articles that led up to her obituary, emily and jameson and grayson were the classic love triangle. two boys- fighting for a girl that didn't deserve either of them.

i'd even caved and read the gossip columnists about her, though swearing to myself before i wouldn't touch the worldwide drama. there were rumors that she'd played both of them like a game.

but then the rumors stopped on october 18th- the day she died.

heart failure was what the obituary said. a congenital heart condition that had been present for a number of years- leading to her parents, mr and mrs laughlin, to be overprotective of her and spoil her with everything she could possibly need.

some say grayson killed her.

some say jameson killed her.

some say she killed herself- while some say it was simply a medical accident.

either way, the coincidence was too great.

if grayson and jameson truly loved her...

then i was nothing but a duplicate of emily. that was all they'd ever see me as. they would not see me as quinn emily anderson- but emily laughlin, the girl that manipulated them even in her last moments.

in the midst of the onslaught of self-deprecating thoughts, alisa walked into the room after a brief knock.

'quinn?' she spoke, words fluid as ever. 'i've taken the liberty of enrolling you into heights country day school, one of the most prestigious schools in the world. you'll blend in more there, and will be under the protection of security that oren himself has organized.' she nodded at my practically invisible bodyguard. 

i nodded, opening my mouth to speak- but she wasn't finished, speaking all over me like she always does. see, this is why lawyers suck sometimes. 'you will be taken care of there- you will start attending tomorrow- and in the meantime, we need to work on your... appearance, because obviously-' she pointed to my disheveled appearance from sleeping in grayson's bed. 'this won't work.'

i narrowed my eyes at her and ran a hand through my hair, my bangs falling into place. 'what. why do i need to do this again?'

'the way you present yourself to the world is extremely significant in this time of day- considering you're one of the world's biggest celebrities. we've already taken the liberty of keeping the attention off your sister, considering her... rather unique... tastes.'

i cut her off. 'my sister can wear whatever she wants.'

alisa grimaced. 'she can- but you can't. you're the main story here, and the stylists will be arriving in 20 minutes. mentally prepare yourself, please.'