Lies Twist The Way We Think

Chapter 26 - Sisters

To clarify:
Camille - 18, 19 soon; Avery - just turned 17; Grayson - 19; Jameson - 18; Xander - 17; Aisha - almost 20; Nash - 22; Alisa - 21; Libby - 18
Fuck canon we do our own thing (I know Nash is older but whatever)
Comments and feedbacks are always appreciated! They motivate authors a lot. Love all of you.

Question: What do you like / dislike most about this story? I have a plan set for the future but I'd love to hear what you think. Any hopes, anything you're excited for, anything you've loved so far, something that's been bugging you... let me know!

C. R. D. - M. L. T.

"Camille." Alisa's tone is sharper than a knife. "What have you done?" She emphasises each word separately and I flinch guiltily.

When I go inside, Alisa calls me to read me the I-can't-do-my-job-if-you-won't-let-me riot act, and doesn't allow me to get a word in.

"In my defense," I start, but honestly? I should have kept quiet, because what follows is a tense stare that makes me wince on the inside. "It's my sister we're talking about."

"I'm here," Libby chimes in. "And I'm fine, Camille. You worry too much." She's been making cupcakes the entire time she and Alisa have been in the kitchen. Alisa confiscated her phone and they've been in here together the whole time.

I watch Alisa look at Libby and picture them in here together. The tight bun with the wild curls. "You know how I am," I say with a tight smile. "I worry all the time." My smile doesn't feel real. Maybe it isn't. But looking at them, some of the peace transports to me and I feel a little less.

After I leave the two, with a tense goodbye between Alisa and I, which seems to promise more retribution to come, I sit down at my computer.

"How bad is it?" I say out loud and cringe at the sound of my rough voice against the blank silence of my room. The answer is more terrifying than ever.

Hawthorne Heiress Keeping Secrets.
What Does Camille Diante Know?
Is The New Heiress A Danger?

I recognise myself in the pictures the paparazzi took more than I thought I would. The girl in the photos is terrifying and full of fury. She looks as arrogant and dangerous as a Hawthorne. Yet I don't recognise myself. In the way I hold myself. My clothes. My hair. I look confident in a way I've never been. My curls are taken care of. I look pretty, which is entirely new to me.

"I suggest," A voice behind me says, "you don't read too much of it. It'll get to your head."

Startled, I turn around and am met with the guy who wears one of those damned suits. Today, it's a forest green.

"Look at you," I say, collecting myself. "It's almost like you're trying to start a new trend, Hawthorne. Isn't that a little too much colour for you?"

He scoffs and comes into my room— which makes me furious, by the way, why does everyone continue to do that?— and sits down on my armchair. My armchair. Like it belongs to him.

"Sure. Make yourself at home," I murmur and he rolls his eyes in a way that is so natural to him that it almost makes me smile.

My room has turned a little more personal ever since I first entered it. There are some of my books Aisha brought me from home. There's a piano, a fucking piano because I once told Alisa that I like to play it. There's pictures of Avery, me and Libby on the wall. There's Mum.

"I overheard you," Grayson says. "In the kitchen. You said you're always worried. Why?" He says it bluntly and so disinterestedly I want to tell him to fuck off. But there's something in his eyes that make me stop. He seems serious about this, like this is a test, and the answer will determine something great.