Chapter 4
HARPER
Iexit my building and move past my neighbours, who are standing and staring at the shiny Bentley.
Could it be any more conspicuous?
But who am I to argue? Sophia is the only person who knows my real identity. She’s sent her driver to pick me up, so I don’t have to use the subway or take a taxi, both of which risk exposing me.
“Ms Feldmann,” he says, holding open the door. “Lovely to see you again. Mrs Bianchi is waiting for you.”
“Good morning, Benjamin, thank you,” I say, climbing in and breathing a sigh of relief as the door closes, concealing me behind darkened windows.
I sit back and watch the city go by. Everything is larger, wider, more imposing. My phone pings. A message from Caleb.
CALEB:
Hey, how’s it going? Are you all settled in?
I spoke to both Mum and Kat this morning, which helped to ease some of the numbness in my chest.
ME:
All good. Meeting Sophia this morning.
CALEB:
Glad you have someone there. Let me know if there’s anything we can do. April sends her love.
ME:
I’ll be okay. Just getting settled. Love you guys.
CALEB:
We love you too. Take care and remember we are here for you.
I wonder how much they know. Are they aware that The Seamstress came to see me? No one has said anything, so I’ve kept it to myself. The last thing I need is Mum going into a full-blown panic and demanding I come home.
Before I know it, Benjamin pulls through the gates of Sophia’s home.
“Good morning, Brooke,” Sophia says, greeting me at the front door. “Follow me, and I’ll introduce you to Harvey.”
She leads me through the house to a room where a man in his fifties is waiting.
“Harvey, let me introduce you to your new project, Brooke.” She turns and smiles at me. “Brooke, this is Harvey.”
“Lovely to meet you, Brooke,” he says, stepping forward, reaching for my blond wig. He tuts, reminding me of Sophia the day before. It’s not like the wig is cheap. It’s real human hair.
“No, no, this won’t do,” he says. “Completely the wrong colour for such beautiful skin.”
I can’t say I disagree. The platinum blond is garish against my olive skin. Even with makeup, it still looks out of place. That alone draws attention.
He lifts it from my head and removes the netting holding my natural hair in place.
He taps his finger against his lips and looks at Sophia.
She shakes her head.
“No,” she says, more sharply than I think she intends. “The natural can’t stay.”
I cringe, although I’m not sure why. I’ve dyed my hair every colour of the rainbow over the past few years, but since returning to my natural colour, I’ve felt more myself, less like I’m wearing a mask.
But who am I kidding? I’m going to be wearing a far bigger mask for the foreseeable future.
Brooke is not who I am, just who I must be until this nightmare ends.
Harvey turns me around, removing the pins holding up my hair. It cascades down my back to my waist. He runs his fingers through my hair several times, picking it up, before letting it fall.
“Burgundy,” he says, spinning me back to face him. He grips my chin, tilting my head. “Yes, perfect.”
I glance over at Sophia, who’s smiling broadly. “I told you,” she says, although I’m not sure which of us, she’s talking to. “Harvey, I’ve set you up in the guest room.”
He claps his hands and I jump.
“To new beginnings. When I’ve finished with you, beautiful girl, all the men you meet will be falling over themselves.”
I smile, although I’m sure it’s more of a grimace.
My heart pounds, and I shoot Sophia a panicked look. I’ve never shied away from publicity or the spotlight. I’ve always been bold and outgoing, but right now, I’m supposed to be incognito, not turning myself into a man magnet.
“Um…”
Sophia holds up a hand and shakes her head. “Harvey’s right. Your beauty will look strange if it’s dampened. You need to own the change but curb your actions.”
I take it she means I need to stop talking, trust them, and go with the flow.
“Come,” Harvey says, making a sweeping gesture with his arm.
So, the transformation begins.
* * *
I stare wide-eyed at my reflection.
My throat constricts.
I will not cry!
I reach up and touch what can only be described as a masterpiece, although my heart breaks at the long strands of hair strewn across Sophia’s floor. Whatever I’ve done in the past, I’ve always retained its length.
Now, the beautifully shaped long bob barely grazes my collarbone. Its rich, warm burgundy tones glow a deep-red purple in the sunlight streaming through the window.
This is the shortest it’s been since I had head lice at five years old.
Sophia enters.
“Oh, Brooke, it’s perfect,” she says, her hands resting on my shoulders, her gaze locking on mine in the mirror.
The green of my contact lenses, the ones I remembered to put in this morning, fit the look perfectly. She’s correct. Even I’m struggling to recognise myself.
“The man who walked away will be begging you to take him back. Don’t you agree, Sophia?” Harvey says, smiling widely at me in the mirror.
“Harvey, you’ve done an amazing job, as always,” she says, her hands squeezing gently.
I don’t speak. Instead, I offer the brightest smile I can muster, not trusting my voice in case it cracks and gives the game away.
It’s true, he has done an amazing job. It’s just looking at my reflection, I mourn the old me. The one who was finally getting her act together.
I give myself a mental shake.
She’s gone.
At least for now.
Tonight, when I enter the apartment, I won’t be able to let my hair down and remind myself I’m still me. Not a mirage.
The tightness in my chest increases, and I stand.
“Excuse me,” I say, disappearing into the en-suite.
Shutting the door, I grip the marble vanity unit between the twin sinks and drop my head forward. I squeeze my eyes closed and count to ten, then twenty, continuing to thirty, concentrating on each breath.
I tighten my grip once more before pushing away and straightening.
Shoulders back, I stare myself down in the mirror.
It’s not like Harvey has turned me into an ugly sister.
In fact, he’s done quite the opposite. He’s turned me into fucking Cinderella, the one all spruced up and about to go to the ball.
“Brooke,” I say.
“Brooke,” I say repeating the name over and over.
I turn on the tap and place my wrist beneath the icy flow, cooling my panic.
There’s a knock on the door. “Brooke? Is everything okay?”
Sophia’s voice breaks the silence, and I switch off the tap.
“One minute,” I say, dabbing a tissue under my eyes to remove the makeup smudges.
“Harvey’s gone,” she says. “Elaine has made us some lunch. I’ll see you downstairs when you’re ready.”
I hear her retreat.
“You’ve got this,” I say, staring at my reflection.
I squeeze my eyes shut before blinking back the tears still threatening to escape.
Shit, there’s no time for tears. You need to suck it up, buttercup.
Turning away, I head back into the bedroom and straight out. Not wanting to watch the staff who are now sweeping what was once my pride and joy into rubbish bags.
I return to the main area.
“There you are,” Sophia says, motioning for me to take a seat on one of her white leather sofas.
“Thank you,” I say, wanting her to understand that, beneath the grief, I am grateful. “For everything.”
“I understand this is difficult, but hair can regrow, colour can be restored.”
I swallow hard at her words. I know what she’s saying is true, but watching my identity stripped away is more painful than I anticipated.
“Now you’ve been transformed, we need to look at next steps.” I stare at her as she smiles. “It’s not hard to see, you’re a confident, intelligent, outgoing young woman.”
Somehow, I’m not convinced she intends her words as a compliment.
“Now, you need to become less. Forget what it was like to be raised in money, attend the best schools. Now you’re average. You must follow the rules and take orders without complaint. Remember, trust no one and keep a low profile. Be polite, but distant. Don’t over share.”
I close my eyes. I know what she’s saying makes sense.
Brooke would not sound like she comes from the Chelsea set.
She’s a young woman from a normal home. She didn’t attend a private boarding school or hang out in private members’ clubs.
She’s gone to the local pub, eaten in chain restaurants, and partied with friends at local discos in her hometown.
My new life suddenly feels alien. Adrenaline shoots through me, sending my pulse racing.
“And you need to stop pulling on your necklace.”
Her gaze drops to my neck, and my hand goes instinctively to my chain and pendant.
I’ve worn it since my twenty-first birthday, when Mum gave it to me.
Kat wears an almost identical one, but mine contains a ruby, my birthstone.
It’s precious because although Dad was not alive to give it to me, I know he chose it, just like he chose Kat’s and the watches for my brothers.
Sophia holds out her hand. “I’ll keep it in my safe.”
I shake my head, but she’s insistent. “There’s no point in going to all this trouble to be tripped up over a piece of jewellery.”
Nausea hits. Bile burns the back of my throat, as I open the clasp and lower it. I blink rapidly against the sting of unshed tears, as I place it into Sophia’s outstretched palm.
It’s safe. It’s only for a short while.
She says nothing, simply gets up and disappears, leaving me sitting, staring out over the water. I swipe at my cheek, my fingers coming away damp.
She returns five minutes later, holding a St Clair pendant on a chain.
“Here,” she says. “I know it’s not as beautiful as yours, but it’s part of last season’s main collection, meaning no one will question you wearing it.”
She dangles the pendant from her fingers, pulling me out of my trance.
“It’s safer to take this than try to purchase a new one. I’ll keep yours in my safe. When all this is over, you can have it back.”
“I—” The words stick. Before I can say anything, she takes my hand, turns it over and drops the chain into my palm.
My fingers automatically close around it.
“Now that’s done, it’s time to work on getting your facts straight. You can’t risk any slip-ups. A mistake or hesitant pause will draw attention faster than anything. No one must have a reason to question anything you tell them.”
She moves to the sofa opposite me. “Let’s begin. Name?”
“Brooke Anne Feldmann.”
“Address?”
And so, it begins.