That Devil Woman

IX - Common Tragedy

"The nerve! The humiliation!" Cruella ranted as she slammed the front door behind her. Claude, who had been reclining on the couch, straightened his back in alarm. Cruella entered the living room and threw her handbag on the floor.

"Cruella? What's all this racket about?" Claude asked his daughter disapprovingly. "And what are you doing home so soon?"

"Well, as you would expect," Cruella snidely explained, "a 'Christmas temp' was never going to hold her position for very long." The rage once again built up in her body. "Fired! Laid off! Let go! The nerve of it all is astonishing."

With that last detail, Claude arose slowly and painfully from the couch.

"It was a very simple, easy job," he scolded. "How could you mess that up?"

"Father, you're joking," Cruella replied in shock, for she had thought it was clear that this treatment was outrageous. "It wasn't my fault. Mrs Elliott claims she had planned my dismissal from the very beginning of my probation."

"So the mind of the great fashionista Cruella de Vil couldn't impress them in time?" Claude mocked her. "That's revealing."

"I guess she just doesn't know great ideas when she sees them."

"Great ideas?" Claude scoffed and derided. "Great ideas? You think that's what she cares about? Your creative vision? How about how well you serve customers? How quickly can you hang clothes on the shop floor? I'll be honest, Cruella. This just sounds like another thing you were not good enough for."

"People just need to see me for the visionary I am!" Cruella retorted defensively.

"Or maybe you need to learn the value of hard work. Your mother had decent creativity, of course, but she was a smart, frugal businesswoman. She was able to achieve something you will never at this rate."

"I can be a fashion designer on my terms," Cruella asserted. I don't need Maureen's input, and I certainly don't need yours either."

"Do you seriously think that of the one per cent of people who can make it is fashion in this world, fate will choose you?" Claude sneered. "The Cruella who doesn't know how to put her back into her work? The Cruella who can't even keep a retail job? I'm embarrassed that my daughter thinks she has a chance in this world."

Cruella stood still in shock. She was never under the impression that her father was a compassionate person. Still, she would have thought that this would elicit some sympathy. That was when she realised that her story was not unique; in fact, it was an unremarkable common tragedy. This world did not expect a woman to be treated with respect and decency. She is simply expected to tolerate it and thrive in spite of it. It was a cruel contradiction she had finally come to terms with.

Claude silently handed Cruella an envelope. Cruella was so deep in thought that she was caught off guard. The address on it was from Elliott Boutique, so Cruella concluded it was probably a formal letter of her termination. She slid her nail underneath the seal and read the letter. It was an invitation; Elliott Boutique was having a New Year's Eve party next week. She figured they must still have her address on file, which surprised her because it would not be unlike Maureen to have removed it in advance.

And then, a fantastic idea came into her head. She smirked, and, powered by hate and fury, she quietly left her home to put her plan into motion.