In the kitchen stood Viggo, hands that had never touched housework, wearing an apron, making her a late-night snack.
At the sound of the door, Carmilla removed her sunglasses and mask and smiled at me.
“Mariah! You remember me, right?”
Her tone was casual, as if nothing were wrong.
“We were roommates in college.”
“My hotel in Glendale got exposed by paparazzi. I can’t go back right now.”
“I thought about it, and you and Viggo are the only people I know here.”
She gestured around.
“This neighborhood has good privacy. I’ll just stay for a bit.”
Then, as if remembering something, she added warmly, “We’re old classmates. You won’t mind, right?”
Viggo walked out of the kitchen holding a bowl of soup.
He didn’t even look at me.
“Of course not,” he answered on my behalf. “We’re old classmates. What’s wrong with staying a few days? The house is big.”
Mariah’s POV
My nails dug deep into my palms.
The divorce wasn’t even finalized, and Viggo had already brought Carmilla into my home!
Everyone there, except little Cruella, knew exactly what a shitstorm Carmilla and I had gone through.
Back in college, that bitch spread some rumors that I wore fake crap, that I could only have this much money by screwing some old man.
She even spread rumors that I was selling myself—made a price for a night—flooding my phone with harassment messages asking if I’d fuck them.
I had always considered her a close friend, trusted that fucking snake, until I could bear it no longer and investigated, only to find all the rumors came out of her lying mouth.
Later, she broke up with Viggo to pursue her entertainment debut.
And I, completely unaware of their past, was the one Viggo chased after.
After graduation, I found out the class had labeled me the other woman. They said I stole him. That I forced Carmilla into show business. At that time, I felt unbearably fucked over.
Viggo held me then and said, “People only see what’s on the surface. We just need to live our own lives.”
Looking back now, the only dumbass was me.
In the living room, the three of them acted like I didn’t exist.
Cruella eagerly served Carmilla a bowl of soup.
When Carmilla flinched from the heat, Cruella immediately grabbed her hand, full of concern.
“Mom, I mean, Auntie, I’ll blow on it for you.”
Viggo hurried over with burn ointment.
Meanwhile, the wound on my temple was still bleeding, and not a single fucking person looked at it.