The Girl In Pecunia

4 - the deep dark secret

Dedicated to Amandatan200 for being such a lovely girl who fangirls about Hunger Games with me. <3

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Chapter 4


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Rule #264 of the Pecunia Rulebook:

Only a Pecunian with a Level above 60 is allowed to purchase private property (e.g. bungalow, terrace).

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Skye was feeling lightheaded. The searing wound on her arm has subsided into a dull ache, but she was having a bad migraine now. Her other arm clutched the wall for support, as her knees felt too weak to support her body. She was scared that she would faint. Fainting would mean going to the hospital, and going to the hospital meant spending money again.

Avery kept sending Skye worried glances, as the three of them stood in one line in the kitchen. The manager was, unfortunately, doing her rounds of checking today, and the three of them already knew that the manager was not going to be very pleased.

A cupboard in the storeroom slammed shut, and Polly flinched. Skye was too weak to even take note of the loud noise.

A petite and bespectacled woman in her early fifties stormed out of the storeroom, with a clipboard in hand. She stopped right in front of the three of them, and leant forward to stare at them. She might be small in built, but her presence now was intimidating.

Her eyes flicked over Skye's bloodied bandage, but she appeared nonchalant, and her fiery gaze settled on Avery's face.

"What happened, Ms Wilson?" The manager asked Avery, addressing her by her surname. Pecunians of higher rank or seniority normally addressed other people by their surnames.

Avery hesitated.

"Sorry Madam, we will pay for the losses," Avery said, bowing her head.

That was all the assurance the manager needed. She didn't really want to know what happened, she wanted to know what would be done to solve the problem, without landing her in trouble. The answer was satisfactory, so she left the kitchen after throwing the clipboard at Avery, asking the three of them to replenish whatever item that has been supposedly 'missing' by the end of the day.

"Why didn't you tell her that it was a thief?" Polly screamed exasperatedly, after the manager left the kitchen. "Then she'll know it's not our fault!"

"Do you think she really cared to know what had happened?" Avery fired back, throwing Polly a glare that immediately rendered her speechless.

Skye listened in a corner, crouching down slowly as she felt dizzier and dizzier. Even though she knew it was true, the reality seemed so brutal coming out of Avery's mouth.

"Are you okay, Skye?" Avery asked, squatting down too. Polly followed Avery, and tentatively put her hand on Skye's forehead. She immediately retracted her hand.

"Her forehead's very hot!" Polly yelped, horrified. Avery's brows knitted. She hoped Skye's wound has not gotten infected.

"I guess you'll need to stay here and man the kitchen. The restaurant's going to open in a few minutes' time. A junior chef will be taking your father's place for today," Avery instructed Polly, as the both of them struggled to lift Skye's body up from the floor.

Polly nodded numbly. Then she turned to look at Skye again. "Is...is she going to die?" she asked, her face turning pale from fright. "I know we didn't hit it off well the first day we met...but...I don't really want her to die," Polly's lower lip trembled in fright.

Avery looked at Polly in disapproval. "If you can't help, don't pass such remarks."

Polly remained silent after that. And even though Skye was too weak to respond, her lips curled up into a faint smile.



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"Where...where are we going to?" Skye asked weakly.

"To my home. I'll change your bandage there." Avery said through gritted teeth, her forehead glistening with perspiration. Skye felt guilty that Avery had to practically carry her all the way to her house, but she didn't have enough strength to move her feet on her own.

Fortunately, the both of them arrived at Avery's house before Skye went out cold. Avery fumbled with the keys, and hurriedly stuck the correct one in. Avery forcefully turned the door knob opened, and hastily set Skye onto the couch in the living room.

Skye's vision was a little blurry, but she could still manage to see the interior of Avery's house.

She was shocked.

The house was huge. Skye guessed that Avery lived in a bungalow, or a terrace house at the very least. The house was designed finely, and Skye was worried that her blood might dirty the leather couch.

Wasn't Avery a Level 46? Even though she was still richer than Skye, but only people with a Level higher than 60 were allowed to live in a bungalow or terrace house. People with a Level like Avery would normally live in roomier or larger apartments than Skye.

Shuffling of feet broke Skye's train of thoughts. Skye weakly lifted her head, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Avery rushing to Skye with the first-aid box in hand.

"Skye? Don't worry, the first-aid kit is here," Avery soothed. She hastily took out the disinfecting wipes, a fresh roll of bandage, and set them down on the table. Then she looked at Skye's wound.

Avery was considered brave for a girl, but she couldn't help but wince when she saw Skye's wound.

"You're a brave girl, you know? Thanks for saving me," Avery whispered, as her shaking hands moved to Skye's arm. She gingerly untied Skye's bandage, and Skye bit back a scream.

"This one's going to hurt a little," Avery clenched her jaw, as she carefully swabbed the wipes over Skye's wound. Skye groaned as the liquid stung her skin.

"It's done," Avery announced happily as she wrapped the bandage around Skye's arm for the final time. She rinsed a handkerchief, and dabbed Skye's forehead with it, hoping to bring her fever down.

"Thanks, Avery," Skye mouthed gratefully.

"What for?" Avery tried to remain emotionless, but she couldn't stop the little smile that threatened to spill across her face.

"For helping me."

Avery heard the phone ring.

"Rest here, call for me if you feel unwell," Avery instructed, before running to the phone.



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"Hello."

"Bonjour, is that Miss Adrielle Wilson on the phone?" a raspy voice croaked on the other line. Avery frowned. She recognised that voice. It was Adrielle's French teacher, Madame Dupont.

"No, it's Avery Wilson." Avery clarified, frustration boiling within her. Adrielle was her twin, just a minute older than her. While Avery enrolled into ordinary schools just like how other normal kids did, Adrielle was homeschooled by the most eligible teachers Pecunia had to offer.

When Avery graduated from secondary school with excellent results, her father decided to deny Avery of the chance of pursuing a better education, and sent her to work, even though they clearly did not need an extra source of income for the family.

"Help me ask Adrielle to rest well and not to bother about the French assignment. She should recuperate first, that poor girl," Madame Dupont said, worry lining her voice.

Adrielle's feeling unwell? Avery scoffed. That's the lamest excuse Adrielle has ever given.

"Okay sure, I'll ask Adrielle to rest well," Avery said, trying her best to contain her anger.

When you're rich, even teachers treat you with respect and concern.

Madame Dupont sighed, and the line went dead.

Avery immediately marched upstairs, preparing herself for the worst.

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As Avery stormed upstairs, deafening rock music invaded her eardrums. Screams and shrieks erupted every other moment. Avery rolled her eyes.

Not again.

The door flung open, and Avery's eyes widened at the wild sight in front of her.

Adrielle was dancing together with another two guys and a girl. Her eyes were closed, and her moves a little sluggish. A glass of vodka hung from her fingertips, some of its contents already spilling onto the bedsheets.

Avery guessed that Adrielle's company must have spent the night at their house, since she didn't think any of them would have gotten up so early just to come to Adrielle's house to dance. Avery immediately marched into the room, pushing away a random brown-haired boy who tried to hug her. The rock music ceased after a satisfying 'click' of the switch. Avery surreptitiously rubbed her ears, enjoying the short-lived peace.

Without the loud music, Adrielle now seemed to sober up.

"What was that for, little sister?" Adrielle said, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

She swung her legs off the bed, and set the glass of vodka on the bedside table with a loud thud. She stood up, and walked towards Avery. Adrielle swayed a little in her step, but still managed to keep her poise graceful. She stopped just a metre away from Avery, and looked at her straight in the eye.

Adrielle was a couple of centimetres taller than Avery, and she used it to her full advantage to show who was the 'boss' here.

But Avery didn't care.

"You told Madame Dupont you were ill."

"Yep," Adrielle said, a smirk dancing on her lips.

"When you're obviously not," Avery snapped.

"No shit, Sherlock." Adrielle said, throwing her hands up in the air. Her friends chuckled behind her, and one of the guys let out a low whistle.

"If you have no interest in studying, then tell Father to stop providing you with such a good education!" Avery yelled, anger welling inside of her. She found this unfair, way too unfair.

"Oh, someone's jealous," Adrielle said in a singsong voice. Then, the smirk disappeared, and an ugly sneer replaced it. Adrielle leant in closer to Avery, so close that Avery wrinkled her nose upon smelling Adrielle's foul alcohol breath.

"Too bad I can do anything I want with Father's money," she whispered next to Avery's ear. "I'm the apple of his eye after all. Do you need me to tell you the reason why Father loathes you so much?"

Adrielle's eyes glinted.

No, she wasn't going to say that. Not in front of her friends.

"It's because you can't - "

Smack.

Avery's hand shot up and slapped Adrielle before she could utter the next word. Although she could not deny the immense satisfaction she felt when the sound of the slap rang in her ears, she was also a little horrified at her own behaviour.

Hitting someone was Adrielle's thing, not Avery's.

Adrielle looked like she was ready to explode.

"You little imp," Adrielle seethed, as she drew her hand back, ready for revenge.

Suddenly, a shrill scream sounded, saving Avery in the nick of time. Avery quickly stepped away from Adrielle.

"Wait till Father finds out."

"He'll do nothing about it."

Avery ran downstairs, taking two steps at a time. She knew who screamed.

When she finally reached the living room, her heart skipped a beat.

"Miss...sorry...about..." Skye feebly choked, as she weakly extended a finger towards the slender lady who was standing before her.

The lady looked like she was in her early twenties. A brooch that was pinned on her clothes showed that she was a Level 73. She was dressed to the nines in the latest fashion apparel, and loads of shopping bags were hanging from her arms, but she dropped them in shock after seeing an injured stranger laying on her couch.

Avery quickly stepped forward. "Marilyn, it's just my friend."

Upon seeing Avery, Skye relaxed, and her finger dropped back down onto the couch.

The lady looked appalled. "Friend? I don't care whether this is your friend, or Adrielle's, make her disappear from my sight immediately! Now!" She shrieked, her eyes frenzied.

"Can't you see she's injured? Let's just let her rest for a while, just a while. Then she'll go." Avery pleaded.

Footsteps sounded, and a voice similar to Avery's spoke. Skye weakly lifted her head, curious to know who else was in the house.

"Exactly, Avery. Get that thing out of our house. You should really learn to respect Marilyn. She's our stepmother after all."

A taller and slightly more mature version of Avery appeared behind Marilyn after saying her piece. Avery and the girl had almost the exact same features, but the girl definitely looked older with the large amount of makeup that was smeared on her face. She was a Level 75, as shown on a pendant that hung loosely from her neck.

Who was she? Skye wondered curiously.

"Ah, the better twin always make more sense," Marilyn smiled at Avery's twin, before scowling at Avery.

"Yes, even when she's drunk," Avery spat, her fists curling into tight balls.

"You heard Adrielle and I, Avery. Do what you're told." Marilyn instructed, jabbing a finger in Skye's direction.

So she was Adrielle.

Skye's head felt like it was being repeatedly hit by a sledgehammer, but she tried to remain conscious, so that she could leave when she was being told to. Or being forced to.

"Don't be angry, Avery. Don't fume," Adrielle said, a faint smirk on her face now.

Avery's face was tinted pink, and she was taking deep breaths to control her fury.

"It's just too bad that you can't conceive. That's why you're being treated like that," Adrielle blurted, and a deathly silence fell upon the place after the cruel words left her mouth.

Her filthy mouth.

Skye gasped, her clouded mind grasping onto the new piece of information.

A stray tear slipped out of Avery's eye, but she dabbed at it swiftly before it could be seen by anyone else.

"Shut up," she whispered, her voice delicate, yet firm at the same time. "Sorry Skye, I guess we have to leave," Avery said through gritted teeth.

Skye nodded worriedly.

Together, the both of them left the grand house.

Although Skye did not have any place to rest now, or any medication to relieve her of her discomfort, she never felt happier leaving the pile of bricks that Avery called her home.



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Hi guys! So...that was kind of a heavy chapter, wasn't it? :/

What do you think of Avery's secret, and the reason why she was 'bullied' at her house? Any thoughts about Adrielle, or Marilyn?

Polly isn't so bad now, compared to the both of them huh? ;)

Tell me what you think in the comments! I <3 to read them, they make me happy. :)

Next chapter will MOST PROBABLY be in Nathan's perspective, so stay tuned for more action! ^^

Love,


-Calistarilarila <3