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She hadn't even washed her hands.
Monet stared at the blood under her nails like it belonged to someone else.
The bathroom at the De Haan estate was marble and spotless, but the girl in the mirror was not. Her lip was split. Her knuckles were red. Her eyes—glassy, wild—stared back like a stranger.
It wasn't until Camille entered, heels echoing down the corridor like thunder, that Monet moved.
"You're trending," her mother said flatly, phone already in hand.
"I don't care."
"Well, you should," Camille replied, voice tight. "Because the headline isn't about some passionate defense of your girlfriend. It's about a De Haan beating another socialite bloody in the middle of a Gatsby-themed gala."
Monet laughed—sharp, cruel, empty. "She said she slept with Adelaide."
Camille blinked. "And you believed her?"
Monet opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
The silence said everything.
Camille set the phone down carefully on the counter. "You're unraveling, Monet."
Monet looked away, ashamed. She didn't know how to explain it. How it wasn't about Diana. It was about the build-up. The rot beneath the surface. It was about seeing someone else walk into a room with Adelaide's trust like it hadn't taken Monet years to earn a fraction of it.
"She said it like it meant nothing," Monet murmured. "Like they were already over me."
Camille sighed. "And you let that insecurity reduce you to a headline."
Monet finally turned. "She still looks at me like I'm everything."
"But you're not acting like it," Camille said. "You're acting like a girl who doesn't know what she wants."
"I know what I want," Monet said softly. "I just don't know how to stop ruining it."
Camille crossed her arms. "Then maybe it's time you stop trying to win her back with control. It's never been what she needed."
----
Some people whisper sweet nothings. Others throw punches. De Haan, darling, you've always been dramatic—but breaking Diana De La Cruz's nose in public? That's a new level of messy. xoxo. gossip girl
Monet didn't sleep.
She didn't even go home. She stayed curled in the backseat of the car outside Adelaide's building until the engine went cold.
