book 1 of 3
ever since bianca 'b' prescott was born, she was told that she was the fairest of them all. and like any, the island's very own kook princess had a reputation- she was stubborn and shallow and most of all, she was a spoiled bitch. but ev...
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After dropping John B back at the Chateau, Bianca drove over to the Country Club to meet with Lydia. Rafe and Topper were bound to be around here somewhere- they'd invited the girl earlier to go golfing with them, but she declined to help out her mother with the Midsummer's planning.
"Wow," Lydia hummed, placing her fork down onto the table, "You really have outdone yourself, Lou."
The manager, Louis, a tall, skinny rat-looking man with a graying handle-bar moustache nodded politely, "We're glad to have your business, Mrs Prescott."
"Oh please, call my Lydia," The woman waved off before she turned to her daughter, "How's the caviar, sweetie?"
"Fishy," Bianca rolled her eyes, placing her spoon down. She couldn't take her mind off the note from earlier- Sarah may not have thought there was a conspiracy going on, but Bianca knew better- her father and Ward were up to something and she needed to find out what it was.
Her father kept practically everything worth anything at work– antiques, documents, financial transactions, business deals. Getting through the building was the easy part, but getting into the office- that was where the trouble began. The only way was with a key card, which even Bianca didn't have access to. Only her father and her mother had one and so Bianca had spent the entire time they were wine testing trying to sneak her hand into her Lydia's handbag to find the ever elusive card. Unfortunately, the wine didn't slow her mother's reflexes and she glared at the girl multiple times for reaching for her Valentino.
"Behave," Lydia forced a tight smile, her hand coming over her daughter's wrist while the other took a sip of the champagne beside her. By that point, her neatly painted red nails had already left mark's on Bianca's skin.
"Will you two excuse me, please?" The younger girl bit her lip when she felt the sharp pain against her wrist, "I've got to use the restroom."
"Of course," Lydia smiled sweetly, but Bianca knew it was anything but, "Take your time." It was her mother's way of saying, come back with better manners, or don't come back at all.
Bianca nodded and left the bar they were both sitting at, the wall decorated with expensive bottles of alcohols- that Lydia no doubt was salivating over. Rubbing the skin around her wrist, Bianca couldn't figure out if it was her mother's nail polish or tiny drops of her own blood.
Ever since she was little, Lydia Prescott had spent all her energy and time to sculpt her daughter into the woman she didn't get to become. And it only became worse when her father was constantly on business trips- it felt like he was the only one ever in her corner. It was easier in public, when her mother was surrounded by the blonde, booby, botoxed ladies of the Island Club because when they got home Lydia didn't spare a glance back at her daughter.
