fool (lester averman)

chapter one

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chapter one: a princess and a jester

a/n:

i missed them so much you guys don't understand.

tw(s) -- brief descriptions of poor parenting, anxiety symptoms, a decent amount of goldberg slander, and rory's wealth makes people standoffish (understandably)

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In retrospect, Lorelei should've known that accepting Don Tibbles' offer, like every other attempt she's made to earn her father's pride, would come back to bite her eventually.

There's something about the formula she just doesn't have down pat her. Despite a life of being groomed for corporate success (being sent to the top boarding schools, entrusted to the most qualified coaches, and allowed to hang off her father's arm as he mingled at every event so he could whisper about the people around them and she could learn from the best), she can never read her father well enough. Oliver always seems to be several steps ahead of her -- every word out of her mouth is something he knows she is going to say, and everything she does is a thing he expected her to do. He's planned out her entire life in some color-coded book that's locked away in his bedside table and, no matter how hard she tries, she can't stray from the path he's set her on.

She only signed up for this competition because she knew he'd do it anyway. The daughter of Hendrix's biggest rival coming to play for a team sponsored by them? It would make things look civil, put to bed any rumors of Myrtle Enterprises buying them out in the near future, and show off the poise and skill of a legend's granddaughter all at once.

And her reward for seeking her father's approval like a dog at the door? Finding him and his personal assistant (see also: really young girlfriend) Krystal rooting through her closet the night before she was set to leave.

"What's going on?" She asked, slightly miffed at the invasion of her privacy, and crossed her arms over her chest.

Oliver, stood in the center of her bedroom, looked up from the cufflink he had been fiddling with and said as if she were two feet tall, "We're going through your clothing, darling."

Her gaze flitted back to the blonde yanking hangers out of the closet and scrutinizing them before it returned to her father. His lips lifted up into a smirk at her poor attempt to hide a scowl.

"I can see that. But, why?"

"What about this one?" They were interrupted by the flourish of Krystal pulling a baby-pink Prada from the depths of the closet.

It was Oliver's turn to scowl. "No. Not that. The pink makes her look like a child."

The indignant sound that came from Lorelei's throat went ignored.

"Hm... I suppose you won't want the green, either. It's supposed to hug her curves. She doesn't have the chest for it."

Before Lorelei could have even processed what had been said, her father jumped on the opportunity. "And neither did you before the saline. Mind your tongue when speaking about my daughter, Krystal."

The women in the room shared a look that went ignored by Oliver. Get used to it, the expression on Lorelei's face had said, he'll always pick family in the end.

"You never answered my question." She said, her gaze set back on her father as Krystal shrunk down and returned to her duties. "Why do I need so many dresses for a hockey competition?"