Supervillain Girlfriend!

Part Two, Chapter Fifteen: Family Secrets

Eventually, several days later, Beatrice had to leave the hospital and go home.

Well, Charlie's home, technically. The penthouse apartment. She didn't want to go. She didn't want to see Charlie, because she didn't want to be mad at her.

But she was.

She was mad even though Charlie hadn't really done anything wrong. Still, realizing that didn't help the sense of betrayal she felt every time she remembered Charlie's words.

So, back at the apartment, she immediately locked herself in one of the guest rooms and turned on the Television. She didn't feel like watching anything, she really just wanted to drown out the sound of Charlie coming home from work.

She had successfully avoided her for almost a week, and she didn't know what to do about the situation at this point. The problem felt insurmountable.

Eventually, there was a knock at the door. Beatrice ignored it.

After a brief pause, another knock, this one more urgent, more demanding. She held her resolve to remain silent, and pretend she wasn't there.

A third knock.

"B? Are you in there?" Charlie said. Beatrice winced at the sound of her voice, of the unsureness that was there.

She rubbed her temples and frowned.

"Yeah." She said after several seconds.

"Can I come in?" Charlie asked.

Beatrice sighed and stood up. She walked over, and hit the button that opened the door to the bedroom. Charlie stood there, mouth slightly open, but said nothing. She seemed to be at a loss for words.

"What is it?" She asked. It came out more aggressive than she meant it to.

"I, uhm—" Charlie nervously rubbed the back of her head. "I needed to talk to you about something."

"Okay?" Beatrice said.

"Uh, my dad, he wants to, uh. He wants you to come over to his house, so he can talk to you." Charlie stuttered out. She ended the sentence with a wince, like she was already expecting Beatrice to snap at her.

"No."

"Oh, uh—"

"Why would I ever agree to that?" Beatrice snapped. "Why would I want to see him?"

"B—"

"Your dad hates me anyway, Charlie. How do I know he's not going to have me shipped off to be experimented on as soon as I get there?"

Charlie flinched slightly at her words, and, for a moment, a pang of guilt shot through her. Her face softened, and she glanced away in embarrassment.

"I— I'm sorry, B. I shouldn't— I shouldn't have—"

"You know what?" Beatrice cut her off. "It's fine. I'll go. I'll see what he has to say for himself."

"Really?" Charlie asked softly.

"Yes." Beatrice said, even though she really didn't want to.

This was for Charlie.

Charlie's father's house was just as ostentatious as Charlie's apartment, though in its own separate way. While the apartment was sleek, modern, and almost clinical, it seemed that the family's main estate was the exact opposite.

Even though it was new construction, the sprawling mansion was built in a traditional style, with a colonial interior, mostly in shades of red and blue. The furniture was made to look antique, but it didn't have any of the wear and tear of actual antiques, let alone the charm. Beatrice didn't like the way all of it tried to mimic an old, comforting style. It felt deceitful, untrustworthy.