Chapter 6: When Secrets Strike Like Lightning

A week later, Cleopatra jolted awake by a message from Katie, summoning her to the INK Model Company. She rose at once and freshened up. Midway through breakfast, her gaze drifted to the wardrobe she had already inspected; nothing inside would truly make her shine.

Once she finished her meal, she rose from the table and neatly cleared away her plate before stepping outside. She headed toward a nearby department store renowned for its collection of designer wear, her strides purposeful as a quiet resolve settled in her chest.

“Good morning, ma’am. How may I assist you?” one of the attendants asked, dressed in a crisp uniform as he ushered her inside.

“What’s your style? We can help you achieve the perfect look,” the staff member added, his tone warm and inviting.

“Hmm…” Cleopatra replied after a brief pause. “I’ll go with a short, sexy gown.”

“Right this way, ma’am,” he said, leading her forward with a polite, guiding gesture.

Cleopatra moved through the racks alongside the staff, her fingers grazing the fabrics as they sifted through the store’s designer collection. Amid the soft rustle of silk and chiffon, a familiar voice cut through the ambient murmur sharp and unmistakable. Her heart skipped a beat. Without hesitation, she excused herself, weaving quietly between the displays for a better look.

Cleopatra’s gaze lingered, curiosity entwined, as it settled on two figures.

There, seated elegantly on a pair of plush chairs, were Guinevere and her mother, Emilia. They were deep in conversation, their laughter and subtle gestures painting a scene that was both intimate and commanding.

“How are your modeling gigs going? Any trouble on set?” Emilia asked, gesturing with authority toward the outfits the staff presented, as though commanding the clothes themselves to submit to her discerning eye.

“Nothing new, still stuck at the bottom,” Guinevere snapped, irritation dripping from every word. “I don’t get why that incompetent excuse for a manager can’t even get through to Calvin.”

Emilia’s gaze drifted away from the staff. “That reminds me I saw Calvin on the news,” she said, astonishment flickering across her face. “Honey, he’s not only incredibly handsome but talented. You need to capture his attention.”

“I’ve been busting my ass for six damn years trying to get his attention,” Guinevere snapped, venom lacing every word. “And he hasn’t even glanced my way! All he cares about is that worthless Cleo.”

“What do you mean, Cleo? Isn’t she supposed to be in the Castren District?” Emilia asked, her eyes narrowing as they fixed on Guinevere with sharp curiosity.

“She’s back,” Guinevere said, running a hand through her hair, frustration and disbelief etched across her face. “She came to Marvale a month or two ago I’m not exactly sure. And she’s different now. Completely different. It’s like she’s an entirely new person. Maybe I’m imagining things, but she really does act differently.”

“What’s wrong with that foolish girl?” Emilia scoffed, disbelief hardening her expression. “Wasn’t she all over Anthony back then going so far as to lie that he tried to rape her?”

“Is she going around seducing every man she sets her sights on?” Emilia’s voice dripped with disgust. “Insolent. She should know her place and not let her beauty go to her head. But tell me why is her presence causing you problems?”

“She’s all over Calvin now, dangling herself before him like a predator circling its prey!” Guinevere’s voice trembled with a mix of fury and panic. Her legs bounced uncontrollably, her hands gripping her knees so tightly her knuckles turned white, as though holding herself together might contain the storm of frustration raging inside her. “What am I supposed to do if they end up together, Mom? I can’t… I just can’t stand it.”

With no desire to continue eavesdropping, she turned to leave only for Emilia to drop a bombshell that froze her in place. The revelation struck so deeply that Cleopatra realized she had never noticed it in her past life.

“How shameless can she be?” Emilia sneered, her voice thick with venom. “I suppose the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree; like mother, like daughter. I could never stand her mother when she was alive. She spared me the trouble by dying in that accident alongside her husband. Otherwise, I would still be compared to her by your father. I was sick of seeing that irritating face, always pretending to be kind while painting me as the villain.” Her words dripped with unrestrained hatred.

“Really, Mom? I had no idea Dad compared you to her,” Guinevere said, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Honestly, that accident saved my face,” Emilia replied with a bitter laugh. “If she hadn’t been so hardworking and constantly busy with her husband, I might have suspected she and your father had an entanglement. Bringing Cleopatra into the house after their deaths wasn’t my decision, it was your father’s.”

“Bloody hell, Mom I always thought it was your decision to let her stay!” Guinevere exclaimed, sitting up abruptly, her mouth agape in stunned surprise.

“Nah. I could never stand her mother so how could I possibly tolerate her daughter? Disgusting,” Emilia said, her finger jabbing sharply at a dress the staff had just displayed.

The staff member attending Cleopatra stepped closer and tapped her gently. “Excuse me, ma’am aren’t you interested in these designs?”

Cleopatra’s world seemed to tilt violently as the words sank in. Her head spun, her vision blurred, and a crushing weight pressed against her chest. She staggered, knees weakening, tears stinging the corners of her eyes as panic and disbelief surged through her. Her voice caught in her throat, unable to form words. The staff quickly rushed to her side, wrapping steadying arms around her as she trembled on the brink of a full emotional breakdown.

“Ma’am, are you all right?” he asked, concern etched across his face.

“R-restroom… restroom… your restroom…” Cleopatra mumbled incoherently, her voice shaking.

“That way,” he said gently, guiding her. “Let me take you there.”

The staff led her to the restroom. She stumbled inside, went straight to the sink, twisted the tap open, and splashed cold water onto her face, trying to steady herself. Her heart pounded violently, each breath coming in ragged gasps, as a sinking dread gripped her chest.

‘What did I just hear? How could she take pleasure in someone’s death, especially one caused by such a tragic accident? Mrs. Emilia never liked us? How could she have kept it hidden from Mom? How could she pretend so subtly, so perfectly? Was this something from my past life, or did I simply never notice? All this time, so much hatred. And Mom… Mom never did anything to deserve even a fraction of it.’

Her thoughts swirled relentlessly as she stared into the mirror.

“Can I really fight this” she sighed, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Can I rewrite my destiny?” Her hand clenched the edge of the sink, determination flaring within her. “I won’t give up. I can still make it to that gate.”

Gradually, her discouragement faded, replaced almost instantly by a surge of courage. She stepped out of the restroom with steady, purposeful strides, drawn to a dress that seemed to call her name. After paying, she slipped out through the side exit, the evening breeze brushing gently against her face.

When she arrived at her apartment, her gaze landed on Ana, already standing by the door as if waiting for her.

“Hi, Ana. What are you doing here?” Cleopatra asked, her eyes drifting to the package Ana held.

“Wow! You’re seriously asking me what I’m doing here?” Ana snapped, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Have you already forgotten? You specifically asked me this morning to bring you a new set of beauty products!”

“Oh, yes. I’m so sorry, I completely forgot. Come in,” Cleopatra said, laughter bubbling through her words.

“I… I can’t,” Ana stammered. “I’m still on duty. I only came to deliver this because you said it was urgent. And honestly, I was stunned when you asked for beauty products. You owe me the tea, and you must spill it all. I have to go now, bye!”

Once inside, Cleopatra glided into the bathroom, shedding the day with ease before slipping into her new plum gown, an orchid-colored vision of elegance. The sleeveless design traced her shoulders, plunging into a V-shaped neckline that hinted at her cleavage, while the open back was threaded with delicate laces crisscrossing her upper back. The plum fabric draped over her thighs, resting softly against her skin soft, enticing, and accentuating every graceful curve.

The chair creaked under her weight as she began curling her hair. Once done, she applied her makeup with careful precision.

The reflection staring back at her was mesmerizing, too beautiful, too perfect. A soft smile curved her lips, filled with pride and quiet affection for the effort she had poured into her appearance.

“Now, it’s time to see Calvin,” she murmured, a flicker of anticipation igniting in her eyes.