Constance
The words came furiously. From the ride to Tyler Charles’s mansion outside of Cannes to my threatening Dorian in front of Carly Wolf less than an hour before his death.
It all poured out of me. How desperate I was to relaunch my career as a solo stylist after getting fired.
How much I was lying to myself, because what I had really wanted to do in Cannes was to see Dorian again.
I left no detail out, from falling for him to the depression I fell into after he and Carly found me naked in his suite.
The dozens of photos and videos I’d sent him might still be on his phone. There was no hiding from any of it.
“Carly Wolf is probably speaking to the police right now, telling them everything I did and said last night. She’s going to paint me as a crazy stalker who wanted him dead.”
Marnie grimaced. Lou bit her bottom lip, like watching me was actually painful.
“You think I’m pathetic, don’t you?” I asked.
“I pretend to be a feminist, so passionate about my career. But the truth is, I believed this thing with Dorian was real. That he might love me. I even thought we could be together, with a happy ending and all that shit. I would have given up everything for him. Actually, I did. I got myself fired from my dream job. I am pathetic.”
Tears streamed down my cheeks.
Lou took off her sunglasses and put a hand on mine.
“I don’t think you’re pathetic at all. I think you were coerced by a man with a lot more power than any of us could ever hope to have. I think he manipulated you. He hurt you over and over again.”
“And I think,” Marnie continued, “that he did it all on purpose from the beginning. Maybe it was just a game for him, to feel so big, towering over the little people like us. Or maybe he was a sick fuck. Maybe we’ll never know for sure. I’m so sorry for what he did to you.”
Their words cracked me open, their light beaming through me even though I wasn’t quite ready to believe that they might be right.
“It wasn’t you,” Lou said. “Everything you describe is… It’s all on him. It’s nice to believe that we’re strong women, but who’s going to say no to someone like Dorian Fisher?”
“No one,” Marnie agreed. “But we do have a big problem, because I agree with you. It all sounds like a good motive for wanting him dead. At this point, I don’t even think it matters if we’re innocent.”