THE UNDYING | TWILIGHT

34. Burn

"Does it always take you this long to dress?" asked Heidi with a restless huff.

As the wall clock ticked and tocked, she drummed her long, manicured fingernails against the leather arm of her chair. "No wonder you're always so late for work. It's not a jigsaw puzzle, you know. See that big hole in the middle? Shove your head through it."

Finally, after hours of waiting, the bedroom door opened and Dahlia timidly stepped out in a dark blue lace dress that accentuated her long, slender legs and tiny waist. For the first time, the gawkish girl had the beginnings of a figure. Well, a stick figure, really, with all the grace of a newborn giraffe. But it was a start, at least.

"You're wearing the blue dress," Heidi observed with a deep frown. "I distinctly said the black. Go back and change. I don't have time for your childish antics today. We're late enough as it is."

But Dahlia's feet remained firmly planted. Was the girl finally asserting her independence and rebelling against Heidi's authority? Perhaps. Or maybe it was something else entirely—something far worse. As Heidi considered this, she noticed that Dahlia had started to pick and tear at the tender skin on her thumb.

Heidi's violet eyes narrowed. "Bring me the dress."

"But I—"

"Now."

With a quiet whimper, the girl stumbled backwards, tripping over her six-inch heels. She rushed into the bedroom and returned seconds later with the chic black dress draped over her forearms. Then her steps slowed. Out of shame, she cast her eyes to the floor and counted the wooden planks as she moved along.

Upon reaching the thirteenth plank, she looked up and met Heidi's impatient glare.

"Oh, just give it here!" Heidi growled before snatching the dress. With careful eyes, she examined every inch of the fabric. It didn't take long for her to find the imperfection. The stain stood out like a splatter of bird shit on a brand new Lamborghini.

"What did you do?" Heidi hissed.

Dahlia flinched. "I spilled. At dinner, I spilled. I tried to clean it. I scrubbed and scrubbed for hours."

"Scrubbed? You don't scrub. You never, ever scrub!"

"Well, I just—"

"And what were you thinking going to dinner in this dress?" Heidi shrieked. "This is a Valentino! From his fall collection! You don't eat in a Valentino. You shouldn't even be moving! This is a piece of art, a timeless classic. Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I'm s-sorry, Heidi," Dahlia stammered, and then she squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of her powerful strike.

But it never came.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Heidi tossed the dress aside and stood up. "Oh, it doesn't matter now. We don't have time to dwell on your fashion crimes. Let's go before Caius loses his patience."

As the two women walked out of the suite, Dahlia casually strolled along like it was a typical Wednesday afternoon: with a little bounce in her step and a soft hum drifting from her glossed lips. However, when she attempted to board the elevator like she normally would, Heidi stopped her with a firm hand.

"It's out of order," Heidi said. "We have to take the stairs."

Dahlia's eyes widened. "The stairs? But that's thirteen floors!"

"So walk fast."

Despite Dahlia's initial reluctance, the two women descended all thirteen floors, conquering a total of two hundred and eight steps, which Dahlia counted aloud, much to Heidi's annoyance. Upon reaching the ground floor, they quickly made their way through the lobby and toward the front exit.