A.N: Tap the image to see Trinity's gala dress!
"What is he talking about?" Avery's voice rises.
"This," Alisa satsy, her trademark calm dented but not destroyed, "was the point." This was the same thing she'd said when we'd seen the paparazzi outside the boutique.
The paparazzi. Making sure we were seen. The absolute need to come dress shopping, despite everything that had happened.
Because of everything that had happened.
"You used me as bait?" Avery is yelling now.
Beside me, Thea recovered her voice—and then some. "What the hell is going on here?"
Oren exits the highway and slowed to a stop at a red light. "Yes," he tells everyone apologetically, "we used you—and ourselves—as bait." He glances toward Thea and answers her question. "There was an attack on Avery two days ago. Our friends at the police station agreed to play this my way."
"Your way could have killed us!" Avery chokes.
"We had backup," Oren assures us. "My people, as well as the police. I won't tell you that you weren't in danger, but the situation being what it was, danger was not a possibility that could be eliminated. There were no good options. You had to continue living in that house. Instead of waiting for another attack, Alisa and I engineered what looked like a prime opportunity. Now, maybe we can get some answers."
"You could have told me," Avery says roughly.
"It was better," Alisa tells us, "that you didn't know. That no one knew."
"Did Rebecca know about the attack?" Thea strikes up a conversation with Avery next to me. "Is that why she's been so upset?"
"Oren." Alisa ignores Thea and Avery. "Did they apprehend the driver?"
"They did." Oren pauses, and I caught him looking at me in the rearview
mirror, his eyes softening in a way that made my stomach twist. "Avery, it was your sister's boyfriend."
Drake. "Ex-boyfriend," She corrected, voice getting caught in her throat.
Oren doesn't react. "They found a rifle in his trunk that, at least preliminarily, matches the bullets. The police will be wanting to talk to your sister."
"What?" Avery says. "Why?"
"If Drake was the shooter, someone would have had to sneak him onto the estate," Alisa says, her voice uncharacteristically gentle.
"Libby wouldn't—"
"Avery." Alisa put a hand on Avery's shoulder. "If something happens to you— even without a will—your sister and your father are your heirs."
By the time we get back to the House I'm two hours late for my facial so I'm not going. My skin is radiant anyways. I'm lying to myself, I've barely slept for three days.
That's a problem for my makeup team and concealer. For now, I'm about to crash a media consulting class.
I sauter in and see Landon perched on an elegant chair, speaking to Avery who looks about to commit murder.
"I'm grateful to be alive, and I'm grateful to be here tonight." Avery drags the words out.
I slow clap and she turns with a start.
"Trinity! What are you doing here?"
I strode towards her and Landon. "Well I was two goddamn hours late to my facial and my stylists aren't here for another half hour."
"Language, Miss Hawthorne." Landon's crisp accent cuts through the air.
"Sorry Landon, just a bit agitated."
"You haven't changed a bit. Yet quite a lot, as you are truly blossoming. I saw your Vogue interview two months ago. Exceptional job." Her glossy lips curl up into a hint to a smile.
"Thank you Landon. Just implementing your tactics." She nods approvingly.
"You had media consultation?" Avery looks grateful for a distraction but also shocked.
"Of course. I was in the public eye so frequently, it was necessary. I like to joke that Landon raised me." A sad smile graces my lips as I remember.
"How old were you when you started?" Avery's interest has spiked.
"Oh, around ten." I smile at Landon.
Avery's eyes bulge, but out of respect she doesn't say anything. Or maybe it's out of shock. I don't know.
"Anyways, I must get going. Lovely to see you again Landon." I dip my head slightly.
"As for you." She mirrors my head gesture.
I sink into the director's chair set up in my closet. I have a dressing room with a mirror, counter and chair but Victorie and Valerie, my hair and makeup team on retainer, always bring cases of makeup that are completely unnecessary.
I'm not complaining, it gives me the chance to display the dress I'm wearing and discuss jewellery with Nova, the woman who manages my jewels.
Victorie brushes back my hair into her transportable basin and begins washing it. She looks nothing like her sister with long, glass black hair and chic white dress underneath a black apron with two gold Vs on them. Valerie has bouncy curls, winged eyeliner, a nose stud and wears simplistic satin black pant suits with bedazzled buttons on the blazer, even though they are also hidden by the black apron.
Valerie lies a sheet mask on my face because "Honey, I feel so bad you missed your facial, this will make you feel better."
Nova walks in, silver heels clicking on the marble floor of my closet, briefcase handcuffed to her. She is dressed in a light grey pantsuit and has her honey blond hair in loose curls down her back.
"Miss Hawthorne, would you like to see the pieces I selected for you?"
"I told you to call me Trinity." I mumble through the smell of cucumber from the face mask.
"I selected the set your great grandmother gifted you on your sixteenth birthday, your snake necklace, the black pearl set and the diamond choker."
I open my eyes and look at my dress, deep red with black beading on the bodice, rubies stitched on like trickles.
"I'll take the snake necklace with the earrings and bracelet from my great grandmother."
"Yes ma'mn." Nova's accent is slow and thick. She uncuffs herself and pulls three velvet boxes from the briefcase.
"Thank you Nova."
"My pleasure Miss Hawthorne."
"Call me Trinity!" Why won't anyone call me that? 'Miss Hawthorne' 'ma'mn'. Are people scared of me? Why won't people address me directly?
The frustration bubbles inside me as Valerie pulls the sheet mask off and wipes my face. Victorie dries my hair and slicks it back into a high ponytail. Valerie applies loads of concealer as well as my signature red lip and red rhinestones on my eyeliner.
Victorie curls the bottom of my ponytail. Both sisters help me step into my gown, put on my black and red heels and pull on long black gloves. Valerie curls the gold and ruby snake necklace around my neck while Victorie clasps on the ruby bracelet and earrings.
"You look fabulous, darling." Valerie plays with my hair, puffing it up.
"Thank you both."
"Of course Trinity." Victorie brushes non-existent dust off my gown.
I run this story. This is mine. Nobody takes that away. My look was never soft or vulnerable. Not since I was ten. I was power, an Angel with blood tipped wings and a snake in my pocket, a force of nature, something otherworldly and haunting.
This is what Granddad crafted and I will not disappoint him. He gave me life and power.
As I defend the staircase to my limousine (a bit more dramatic than the SUVs and I love dramatic) I see Emily in the wings. It can't be Emily. It just can't. I'm imagining it. No. If not Emily, who?
A.N.: SO EXCITED to share the gala scene next chap!! Lmk what you think of her outfit. This chapter (and an Agent Goldfinch one too) is going up early bc I have a severe case of jet lag lol. Ilysm
<3!
Sky(lar)