Chapter 42 Nicole #2
It’s been barely half an hour since Gaetano and I parted ways, yet his absence feels like someone pulled a thread from deep inside me.
He’s now in the castle, restoring his magic.
He didn’t want to leave me alone, but at least he was reasonable and trusted me when I said the Little Baroness would attract more guests if she arrived alone, without the threatening presence of the Black Joker.
No one relaxes when standing next to a man who radiates such predatory energy.
The venue has been transformed. Silver netting drapes the chandeliers, with garlands cascading below.
On the podium near the DJ booth, a violinist is playing.
Digital screens cover the walls, looping images of club members, mostly from well-known media appearances.
I recognize myself in one of the photos.
I scan the crowd, and suddenly everything slows down.
A wave of déjà-vu hits me. But it’s not déjà-vu—it’s my past. Designer gowns—satin, tulle, sequins, feathers…
on the same woman, over and over. Her cheekbones could cut glass.
Her eyebrows are drawn on with marker precision.
Her lips are frozen in a permanent pout.
Have women always looked like this? Or am I only noticing now?
The men are carved from the same dull mold: designer shirts with gaudy prints, hair slicked back, cold eyes scanning everything around them with disdain before returning to their phone screens.
A black wave flows through me and sinks into my heart as I observe this society.
This high society, so proud to humiliate others, yet constantly tearing itself apart.
It forces you to erase your expression so it can label you “beautiful.” To swallow your words, bend your spine, and smile at those who hate you—to be accepted.
And the worst part? You’re willing to debase yourself just to get your next dose.
I expected coming here would shake my resolve. But now, I move forward with a confidence that the Little Baroness never had. My father, after all, raised a predator.
Everything in me goes numb at the thought that by tomorrow night, all of this will be over. Gaetano insists we leave immediately, to a place where he can hide us from Madeline with magic.
Before that, I have a few things to take care of.
Right now, my gaze falls on Ina Stein’s small entourage of fame-seekers. The influencer became known for her harsh commentary about every contestant on the last season of The Bachelor. Then she got a sugar daddy and decided she belonged in our circle.
She and her friends have claimed one of the high-top tables.
They all look identical, making them the perfect targets.
No one would notice if a few of them disappeared without a trace.
They’re fame-hungry enough to get stars in their eyes at the mention of an exclusive event, but not quite desperate enough to be mistaken for escorts the moment they walk into the lobby.
It’s either them or Gaetano.
Something twists inside me at how coldly the thought takes shape in my mind.
I weave my way between two blondes and place my glass on the table, lips pursed. “Is it just me, or does this event get tackier each year?”
Ina snorts and nods toward the next table. “Shh, Nicole. Barbara’s right over there. Trust me, you don’t want her hearing you trash her party. She’s vicious.”
I flip my hair over my shoulder and glance at Barbara. “So am I. Besides, my father sponsors the club.” I wait for a flicker of reaction—some trace of the rumors about my family, though it’s unlikely they’ve reached Ina’s circle. She’s famous enough to be here, but still far from the truly rich.
Nothing happens.
“Hold on, wasn’t the club supposed to be for the young crowd?” The woman next to Ina checks out Barbara’s outfit with pursed lips. “How exactly does that auntie fit in?”
“Oh please, like you don’t know,” another one mutters, furrowing her brows.
“Yeah, yeah. We all know who she’s sleeping with.” Ina waves dismissively and turns to me. “By the way, is Boyana coming? She was supposed to send me some hotel recommendations for Sri Lanka. I’m planning a getaway…”
Now I remember that Boyana had ignored her texts after the twins mocked her for mingling with the ‘wannabes.’ “I’m not sure she’ll make it.
” I take a sip of my drink, then lean across the table and lower my voice just enough to hook them in.
“If you’re bored with lame events, there’s a private party at the Hyatt tomorrow night. Invite-only. Horror-art theme.”
“Horror-art?” Ina raises a skeptical brow.
I shrug. “Think Halloween… but with Moet. Some ultra-rich Bulgarian-Italian guy is hosting it. I think he’s an artist… and maybe part of the Illuminati.”
“Oh my God, stop!” Ina leans in. “Like, actual Illuminati? Or just crazy enough that people say that?”
“I’m not sure. There’s nothing online—no posts, no details.
Just word-of-mouth invitations. Like in those films where someone disappears and everyone stays quiet afterward.
” I wink at the girls. “They say at his last party, some girl fainted from euphoria. Or from something else. Nobody really knows.”
“Oh, my God, you’re insane,” one of them hisses. I catch the excitement in her voice.
Ina looks intrigued. “Well, at least we’ll have good content to post on TikTok…”
“Just come by if you feel like it,” I say with practiced indifference.
Smoothing down my dress, I pull a small invitation from my purse and place it on the table. The card gleams under the lights, matte black with embossed silver edges, the kind of detail that whispers luxury.
Draw me in blood.
Horror-Art.
Hyatt Presidential Suite
Saturday, 8:00 PM
By invitation only
Their eyes lock on it.
I glance over my shoulder. “I think I just spotted an old classmate…”
Leaving their group, I head straight for Evelin—a girl I knew in high school. I still remember her once stubbing out her cigarette on the nerdy girl’s elbow for giving her the wrong answers on the English test.
“Evelin, darling, it’s so good to see you!” I gush. “I was this close to going home and hitting play on a Netflix documentary. At least something might actually happen there.”
“Haha, hey, babe!” She hugs me with two air kisses, careful not to touch me. “What’s with that face? Still stunning as ever! Looks like the rumors aren’t true after all…”
Fuck.
My knees buckle in an instant. It doesn’t matter, I tell myself. None of it does. Only Gaetano.
In the past, I would’ve launched into explanations, wrapping the truth in carefully crafted lies. Now, I ignore her comment and give her dress a once-over. “Gorgeous. Though honestly, you’d think you’d gotten the date wrong. This one looks more fitting for tomorrow night.”
The last part grabs her attention. “Tomorrow night?” she asks, a shadow of alarm in her eyes. Evelin’s the daughter of a major underworld figure—she’s on every guest list. Being shut out of anything probably sends her into cardiac distress.
I lower my voice and slip the invitation into her palm as if revealing a secret. “Private event. At the Hyatt. Ultra-luxe. The guest list is tight.”
She taps the side of her nose with a manicured finger. “Oh, yes, of course. I was thinking of skipping it… Well, if you’re going…”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. People will be talking about it for months.” I leave the invitation in her palm “In case you’ve lost yours…”
As the night goes on, the stiffness melts from my shoulders, and my performance improves. Faces shift before me, but I only see Gaetano, framed by shadows.
Two hours later, I’m about to leave when—
“I can’t believe you showed up without even texting first! Are you really Nicole, or a synthetic replica?” Boyana emerges, spreading her arms in a theatrical gesture. Shit. It’s not like I wasn’t prepared for this encounter. I just hoped to avoid it.
“Hey, Bo. I decided to come last minute,” I say with a fake smile.
She pulls me into a shoulder hug and plants quick air kisses on my cheeks. “You haven’t picked up your phone in days, haven’t answered my messages. I thought you were mad at me or something. And I have news…”
My jaw tightens as I remember her words during Gaetano’s second trial.
They were figments of my imagination, but they might have been real.
If I start to sink, Boyana will be the first to throw water on my head to speed up my drowning.
Not out of cruelty, just instinct. She knows how to survive in our world.
No different from what I’ve been doing for years.
“I’ve been swamped with my father’s projects,” I say.
“Is everything okay over there? I hope those ugly rumors from the twins aren’t true…” Her voice thins on the last part, and the glint in her eyes tells me she’s hoping they are.
Suddenly, that dark sensation rises in my throat. I’m choking on this conversation, on the fake smiles and rehearsed excuses.
I say, “You do know Misha and Marie talk behind your back, right? Just like they talk about me. Just like they talk about everyone. Who do you think told me you threw up all over yourself after Suzanna’s party?”
Boyana’s eyebrows arch. “Some guy saw us!”
“No. It was Misha. She held your hair while you puked, then yapped about it to anyone who would listen. And who do you think spread the rumor that you had a nose job in Istanbul because it looked like a beak?”
She glances down at her nose, going a little cross-eyed. “It was a minor correction—doctor-prescribed. I hit it on the fridge door and broke it!”
I frown. “Seriously? Who the hell breaks their nose on a fridge door? If you’re going to lie, do it right.
” Her jaw drops, but I’m not done. “By the way, remember Branimir? The guy you liked at my birthday party? I ran into him later that night. We talked. Then, went out a few times. We even made out in his car once. I wish I could say I’m sorry, I know how much you liked him, but I’m not.
The only thing I regret is wasting a few evenings in his ego-scented bullshit. ”
A rigid expression settles on her face, as though she’s not quite grasping my words.
“Oh, come on,” I say. “Trust me, he wasn’t worth it.”
“I… slept with him. Last week. I was out with the twins, and we bumped into him. And he still hasn’t called me back…”
That makes me pause for a moment. “Let me guess. Sitting at the bar, casual drink in hand… Mr. Lawyer unwinding after work?”
She nods, and I almost laugh. Branimir. Just another player.
But then I catch the disappointment in Boyana’s eyes.
Something unexpected stirs in my chest. This is the girl I once screamed with from the limo window on prom night.
Despite everything, she’s chasing her slice of happiness in this messed-up life; same as the rest of us.
“Bo…” I soften my tone. “I’m sorry I haven’t been a great friend. Honestly, I think you should be more selective with the people around you. Step back from the fake stuff. And from emotionally unavailable men.”
She blinks.
“Oh, and stop using words you don’t understand. It doesn’t make you look smart, but ridiculous.”
Her mouth opens, and her eyes glaze over.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the Little Baroness herself, Nicole Vrancheva! We thought you’d vanished!”
I turn around. Misha and Marie are coming toward me in perfect sync, drinks in hand.
“We were just talking about your absence,” Marie purrs with a sugary voice. “Everything all right in… construction paradise?”
They exchange glances after the last line, satisfied with their small metaphor. Boyana looks at them with a blank stare.
I offer a slow smile. “You know, I’ve always thought you two were a pair of airheads.”
Their faces fall faster than the crowns I toppled off their birthday cake.
I raise an innocent eyebrow—the way Gaetano would before he lets words detonate in a room.
“You were right not to like me. But for what it’s worth, every one of your boyfriends liked me just fine.
” They glance at each other again. “And yes, I did ruin your birthday cake.”
With that, I leave them and weave through the crowd. I step into the warm August night and walk aimlessly until I find a quiet bench.
The air tastes different. Not because the world has changed, but because I have.
Whatever mask I used to wear, it’s off, and I’m no longer putting it back on.
No force in this world will erase who I am.
Not anymore. My character was forged in years of silence, pressure, and the lack of support—both at home and in the world around me.
At least moving forward, for however long I live, I’ll stay true to myself.