Dess: Plastic Mrs. Vanhook
1404 Words
[TWO MONTHS LATER]
Can't believe I'm forced to wear a corset this tight.
I had cautiously refused, but Claudia wouldn't have it. Talking about how I need to make my shape pop, since I've been getting rounder.
She also insisted that I wear the most expensive gown available.
Accompanying me to the boutique just to ensure that I picked something 'worthy of my status'.
Thanks to her inputs, I'm the most pretentiously dressed in the hall.
My gown is an opulent emerald green masterpiece, simmering like diamond-dust under the chandelier light.
It cascades in soft waves to the floor, pooling around my feet like a green pond.
It is elegant and graceful, but also attention grabbing, and that's the last thing I want right now.
Sighing gently, I empty my glass of champagne into the chocolate fountain, and place the cup lightly on a waiter's tray.
I work my throat up and down, tugging at the choker around my neck, my eyes fixed on Kim and her brood of bitches.
On cue, they all look my way, all five sets of eyes, looking me over, condescending.
One, amongst the two blonds present, says something and they burst into laughter.
My face flares, the room suddenly goes ten degrees hotter than it was before, and the diamond encrusted choker tightens even more.
A wave of nausea washes over me, and I relax my mind, calculating my breath.
The past two months have been hell.
Having to live under Evan's roof while hiding the knowledge of his baby from him.
After I realized that he'd forgotten about our intimacy, I decided it would be best to keep my pregnancy a secret until I come up with a solution to my predicament.
I made a decision, to stand and fight.
This is my marriage, Kim can only have as much power as I give her, and I won't allow her to reign supreme.
That's why my present for Evan today, on his birthday, is a very special one.
Kim's eyes wander behind me, and a smile breaks on her stupid face.
Before I can turn to see what it is, a heavy hand lands on my shoulder, startling me.
"Hey, wife." Evan's baritone booms from behind me.
I turn abruptly, making my head spin. "H-hey."
"What's wrong?" He questions, gently holding my hand that's on my forehead.
I look up at him, and his forehead is creased with worry, an unreadable emotion flashing in the depth of his eyes.
It's gestures like these that feed my imaginations.
When he softens, and I dare to believe that maybe he truly does have feelings for me.
That he meant it when he said it that night.
"Good." His hand drops to his side, but I don't fail to notice the mild deflating of his chest.
He stretches his hand, and Jared—his head guard—places a brown paper file in it.
He tears it open, and pulls out a few sheets.
"Here." He holds it towards me.
My eyes travel from the sheets to his eyes. "What are these?"
"Business contracts," he puffs. "Sign them."
"Ow." I reach out, taking them from him. "Can I do it—"
"Now." His voice is firm, final.
My eyes drop to his hand, he's wiggling a gold encrusted fountain pen at me.
"I want them signed now."
Sighing, I reach for the pen, but a sudden weight crashes into my arm, sending the pen gliding across the smooth wooden floors.
Looking back up, I'm greeted by the sight of Kim desperately pressing her chest to my husband.
My heart tightens immediately and I look around to see if people noticed—they do!
Looking back at them, I'm hit by the sudden urge to stab Kim hard in the back.
To kill her and end all of this.
She's intentionally disrespectful, always making sure to publicly display her illicit relationship with my damn husband!
We are at a party for crying out loud.
His birthday ball!
And what's worse? I planned and organized this without a single help.
I spent sleepless nights trying to put this together.
Entry was put strictly by invitation, yet she waltzed into this place without so much of an obstruction, trying to crash my party.
How dare she!?
Listening to my rage, I reach for her shoulder, pulling her away from him.
"What the hell are you doing?" She hisses.
I breathe slowly, calming myself. "I should be asking you that question, Miss concubine."
A collective gasp tears across the room—I've never been this bold.
"She's gone mad." A female's voice whispers from behind me.
"That's the heiress to the Kent fortune, Plastic Mrs Vanhook definitely lost her mind." Another one says, louder
My fist balls at my side, my eyes stinging.
Again, I'm reminded why I would never match up to the great Kim Kent, only child and undisputed heir to one of the most successful Tech companies in the States.
Who am I beside her but a nobody who doesn't even deserve to breath the same air as her, talk more of competing?
I tilt my head up to see him. His face is as expressionless as always, that stoic I've grown used to.
No matter the situation, Evander Vanhook kept that dead ass face.
When I welcome him from work.
When I wait up all night for his return.
Even the times he allows me to massage his shoulders when he works tirelessly on his computer, his face never changed.
And definitely not when he's with the 'love of his life'—Kim.
Looking back at Kim, I lean on my legs, folding my hands. "Leave."
"Excuse me?"
Evan sighs from behind her, but I don't back down.
"This party is on strict invitation, leave." My voice remains calm, betraying the storm brewing inside.
She scoffs in disbelief, turning to Evan, but he does nothing.
Now she'd do what she always does—push him to react.
"Evan!" She steps closer to him, hugging his side.
Predictable b***h.
"She's asking me to leave."
He takes a while. Standing there trapped in her claws, yet watching me intently.
"Evan?" She nudges him.
Inhaling deeply, he opens his mouth, and I know I won't like this. "Kim would stay."
My lips part and close. Words refusing to form as my head goes dead blank with humiliation.
"Hear that bitches!" Kim's thin voice fills the room, her hands still wrapped around my husband's waist. "The man of the party says that my presence is of utmost importance."
The crowd sniggers, and more vile whispers hit my ears, piercing through my heart.
"Now, fatso can leave," Kim adds, and the crowd breaks into laughter.
Of course everybody danced to her tone.
I bat away my tears and look back at my husband, he stares back. His blue eyes empty.
"I want a divorce."
The room falls dead silent, just before sneaky whispers start to circulate, but that fades to the back of my mind as I watch Evan change.
For the first time after our drunken night of intimacy, his stone expression softens—or does it harden?
His face completely changes, his eyes darken under the chandelier light, and an unreadable emotion shrouds them.
The tick in his jaws says enough, but I stand my ground.
Enough is f*****g enough.
"Yay!" Kim jubilates beside him, completely oblivious to the change in his demeanor. "Good riddan—Ouh!"
Evan pushes her away before she can finish.
"Evan!?" She complains, but his attention is completely zeroed on me.
Closing the space between us, I fall back, but he holds me in place, his hand gently, but firmly placed on the small of my back.
He lifts his hand and moves the little strand of hair hanging over my eyebrow, tucking it behind my ear.
A menacing smile spreads on his face.
"You don't make that call, my sweet little Desire."
I gulp. Hard.
"You don't say when this ends."
"Evan!?" Kim's voice interrupts from behind. "What..."
He finally releases me, and I fall back.
Without even giving it a rest, Kim flies at him again, planting herself there like a stubborn weed.
Evan picks up a glass of champagne, lifting it up. "Let's party!"
He downs the glass in one gulp, allowing Kim lead him away while I remain there, drowning in heartache.
- Writer
