Chapter 6: The Unveiling
I didn’t expect it to be Brooke, my younger cousin by three years. Seeing her so eager, I couldn’t help but hold my forehead, “This isn’t child’s play, Brooke.”
She laughed heartily, saying she had begged Dad for a long time to let her show her skills. Seeing my disbelief, she went from acting cute to serious.
Her eyes sparkled with determination. For the first time, I saw the woman she’d become.
“Sis, if I help you, our relationship means you needn’t worry about leaks. I’m not an ordinary girl; are you worried about my so-called purity? If you can run around for your future, Brooke wants to be a woman who stands tall like you.”
Her smile grew bold and powerful. “I’ve done business with Dad by ship for thousands of miles, crossed deserts with caravans, seen a wider world than you. Who else could be such a confidant?”
I finally looked at her seriously. The chubby little girl who used to follow me around calling me sis had grown up, full of youthful spirit.
“Good, may Brooke not disappoint.”
“Brooke Mason. At your service, ma’am.”
Her words made me tremble, as if lifting a corner of fate. I held her hand tightly.
“My middle name is Lynn. Brooke shows her heart and soul; Audrey will not fail the trust.”
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On the way back to the university from the Brooks family tea house, I saw the disheveled Victoria Langley. Under the gaze of a group of idle rich boys, she rolled up her sleeves, revealing slender white arms, fragile as reeds. Then she climbed the rough oak tree, amid jeers, to retrieve a kite caught on a branch. Some of the punks even picked up stones to throw at her legs, whistling lewdly.
The scene burned with the cruelty of privilege, the kind of playground torment that breeds monsters. I felt my blood boil, fists clenching at my sides.
At first glance, it was quite a shock. In my dream, she was always calm and composed, seated in the Capitol library, unshaken by political turmoil, holding fast to the First Lady’s seat. In the splendid White House, only her place was untouchable; Henry’s sons all bowed and called her mother.
Henry was a fool; peace lasted only a while. But no matter how turbulent, Victoria always had the means to survive.
Lately I was busy plotting and had forgotten she was still struggling in the filth of the backyard.
I glanced at Marissa Langley, arms folded, watching the spectacle. I thought her scheming mother must be truly cautious, or Marissa wouldn’t be so carefree.
Victoria’s nominal birth mother was the Senate Majority Leader’s favored mistress, a childhood sweetheart of the senator, which made the wife jealous. So she separated the twins, raising the daughter with her own, making her timid and insignificant—a mere foil for her own daughter. The mistress, not knowing her place, seduced the boss and replaced the wife. This was her original sin.
In this forcibly blended circle of legitimate and illegitimate children, she became the one everyone could trample.