ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 4: ʟᴇꜰᴛ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ, ʙᴜᴛ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɢɪʀʟ

Deja started walking back to the table as she admired the card in her hand like it was the Holy Grail. "Hello, financial freedom," she whispered to it lovingly.

"Cousin Deja!"

The sugary voice made Deja's teeth hurt. She turned to see Dominique and Trevor approaching, the latter looking like he'd just stepped in something unpleasant. "What's up?" she asked, plastering a smile so fake it could have been painted on.

"What are you holding, dear cousin?" Dominique asked, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

Deja waved the card like a trophy. "A card that my precious fiancé gave me. He said I should buy ANYTHING I want."

Dominique's sickeningly sweet smile faltered for a millisecond before she recovered. "But dearest cousin," she cooed, "using money from him... wouldn't that make it seem like you're only marrying him for money?" Her eyes widened with manufactured concern.

Trevor nodded gravely. "Dominique is right. You look greedy for money."

Deja let out a bark of laughter that was decidedly unladylike. "Dominique, you get MY allowance, and I have no money. Y'all don't even pay me for my work at the company. So what—you want me to live without money? Survive on air and sunshine?"

Look at these two clowns playing tag team. One dumber than the other. Dominique with her fake Mother Teresa act and Trevor with his head so far up his—

"HOW DARE YOU!" Trevor exploded, his face contorting with rage. "We feed you, clothe you, and take care of you!"

Dominique quickly grabbed Trevor's arm, the perfect picture of distress. "Dearest cousin Trevor, don't be angry at cousin Deja," she pleaded, her voice trembling with emotion. She turned to Deja, reaching for her arm with a sympathetic expression. "Cousin, are you feeling unwell today? You're not yourself."

Deja yanked her arm away with such force that Dominique stumbled back. "You're not yourself?" she repeated, her voice a mix of incredulity and amusement. "I'm feeling just fine, thank you. Maybe it's Y'ALL who need a reality check." She glanced between them, her gaze lingering on the glowing percentages above their heads. "Mind your business," she snapped. "Both of y'all. My relationship with Ren is exactly that—MINE."

Without waiting for a response, Deja turned on her heel and back to the table, she grabbed her purse and left the restaurant with her head high, leaving the shocked stares of her supposed family members behind her. "What about the bill?" Dominique called after her.

But Deja ignored her and continued walking out of the restaurant. Trevor watched her go, shaking his head in confusion. How could Deja hate someone as wonderful and sweet as Dominique? It made no sense. The only explanation was jealousy—Deja must be envious of Dominique's natural grace and kindness.

────•⋅⊰༻♥༺⊱⋅•────

Deja was halfway down the block when she realized she had no car, no money, and no idea how to get back to the mansion. She stopped, letting out a long, dramatic sigh.

"Being a villainess is EXHAUSTING," she muttered, digging through her purse to see if Deja at least had a credit card she could use for an Uber. "This $20 million better be worth it."

Her fingers brushed against the black card Ren had given her, and a slow, devious smile spread across her face.

"Well now," she drawled, pulling out her phone to order the most expensive ride she could find, "at least some things are looking up."

She glanced around, making sure no one was watching, then did a little celebratory shimmy right there on the sidewalk.

"Sugar daddy Ren coming through with the funds!" She giggled to herself. "Maybe this villain life ain't so bad after all."

As she waited for her ride, Deja couldn't help but wonder why Ren hadn't broken things off like he was supposed to? Why was he just staring at her? Was she missing something important?

The Black car that pulled up was as sleek as it was expensive-looking. The driver stepped out, opening the door for her with a small bow.

"Ms. Moreau? Your chariot awaits."

Deja flashed him her brightest smile. "Now THAT'S what I'm talking about!" She slid into the plush leather interior, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. "Take me to the finest mall in the city. I got some serious damage to do with this card."

As the car pulled away from the curb, Deja couldn't help but feel like she was finally getting the hang of this villainess thing.

────•⋅⊰༻♥༺⊱⋅•────

A persistent knocking shattered Deja's peaceful slumber, dragging her from her dreams of living her best life in a penthouse suite somewhere far away from family drama. She groaned loudly, pulling her silk pillow over her head like she could block out the entire world with just a pillowcase.

"Miss? Are you awake?" The maid's voice floated through the door like she didn't know Deja had just been in a fierce battle with her bed.

"I am now," Deja mumbled, rolling onto her back and squinting at the chandelier above. "Come in."

The door creaked open, and a petite woman in a pressed uniform entered, carrying a garment bag. "Good morning, Miss Moreau. I've brought your outfit for today's event."

Deja sat up, giving her a look that said, "Sis, you must be trippin'." Her hair was a wild, glorious afro that looked like it had just taken a trip through a hurricane. She raised an eyebrow. "Event? What event?"

The maid blinked. "The hotel opening, my lady. The family's new luxury establishment? You've been hearing about it for months."

Deja stared at her like she just dropped a bomb. "The Moreau's have a hotel? Girl, last time I checked, we were out here doing logistics, making the world go 'round with supply chains and fancy trucks. Now we're out here cutting ribbons for hotels? What happened to 'we don't do hotels'?"

The maid's face went from concerned to panic. "Miss, are you feeling alright? This has been all anyone's talked about for the last three years—your family has invested everything into this! It's a big deal."

Deja waved her hand like the whole conversation was a nuisance. "Nah, I'm good. Just woke up from my beauty sleep, that's all. You can go now."

The maid took a few steps back, unsure if she should be worried, but Deja wasn't having any of it. She was already over this.

After the maid scurried out, Deja flung open the garment bag, pulling out a cream-colored pantsuit with gold accents, eyeing it like it was a trap. "Okay, this is cute..." she said.

She stumbled to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. "A hotel? A hotel? I was literally asleep, thinking I was still in logistics mode." She stared at her reflection like the world had gone insane. "I swear, if I have to pretend like I care about this hotel nonsense, I'm gonna lose it. And who wrote The Wilted Magnolia? They got no sense of worldbuilding. Whole damn thing's a mess."

She brushed her teeth, still in full rant mode, when it hit her—the realization. Her eyes widened, toothpaste dripping down her chin as she froze. "Wait a damn minute...!" She spat into the sink, her mind racing. "The hotel. That's where Dominique drugged the original Deja and set her up with some random dude! And then she brings everyone in to see them like it's some damn circus act. Bitch, no!"

Deja started pacing, toothbrush still in her hand, pointing it like it was a weapon. "That fake Disney princess wanna-be is really trying to play me? Nah, honey. I see you. You think you're slick with your acting skills, but we ain't doing this. Not today, Satan."

Deja took her sweet time getting ready, because if she was gonna face off with Dominique, she was gonna look fierce while doing it. She smoothed her edges down like they were being laid by the ancestors themselves and applied a brown lip liner and gloss that made her lips pop like the heavens had blessed them. "Yup, if I'm going to war with this fake princess, I'm gonna be the most fabulous soldier on the battlefield," she muttered, giving her reflection a nod of approval.

When Deja finally descended the grand staircase, it was dead silent in the mansion. She stopped at the top, scanning the foyer with suspicion. Something wasn't right. She glanced around, and her stiletto heels clicked sharply on the marble, echoing through the emptiness like they were making their own statement. She spotted a maid casually dusting the furniture in the parlor, looking so innocent and harmless, it was almost suspicious.

"Where is everybody?" Deja asked, already knowing what the answer was, but she wanted to hear it anyway. She wasn't having any of that "I'm-not-involved" nonsense.

The maid didn't look up, but she did avoid eye contact like she was personally afraid of Deja's energy. "The family left for the ceremony forty minutes ago, Miss Moreau."

Deja's voice was loud and dramatic, echoing through the mansion like she was on a reality show. "WOOOW, REAAAALLY? They just left without me?! Like, no text, no call, just... gone?"

The maid shifted awkwardly, clearly trying to make herself invisible. "They always... leave without you, Miss."

Oh, I see how it is. Deja put on her best "I'm about to start something" face and drew out every word with maximum shade. "OHHHH, I sEe HoW iT Is," she drawled, each syllable dripping with so much sarcasm you could drown a whole ocean in it. "Well, that's cute. It's real cute that y'all think I'm just gonna let this slide."

She pulled out her phone with all the grace of a Black queen tired of everyone's mess and tapped the rideshare app with a flourish. "Guess I'll just have to make my own grand entrance. Ain't nobody gonna outshine me. Not today, not ever."

She tapped the screen again, and the car was on its way. She tossed her phone back into her bag and straightened her back like she was about to step into the club of the century. "Y'all might've left me behind, but I'm about to show up and show out. I'll be the star of my own damn show."

With a sassy little smirk, she spun on her heel, ready to make her entrance in style. Dominique could wait. This was Deja's world, and everyone else was just living in it.