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.