Mature. Viewer Discretion is advised.
*The people inside of this work are FACE-CLAIMS. This has no correlation to any IRL individual.*
*This is messy plot. Made when I was a teen. Beware.*
The story of a young woman who finds her style, self worth...
"Love, I have wounds, only you can mend, you can mend. I guess that's love, I can't pretend..." ♫ Can't pretend by Tom Odell.
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"Husband?"
Slowly and gently taking Cosette's perfectly polished hand, I stared at her dead in the face, feeling very cheap, and extremely underdressed to even be in her presence. Her red bottoms, long, pressed hair, and Gucci coat made me look like a fucking trash bag, and despite the news I'd just heard, all I could think about was how fucking gross I must look compared to her.
His fucking... wife.
"Yes. And you must be his..." Cosette peeled her hand back like she'd just touched a pile of dog shit, "Mistress or um--flavor of the week." Her voice managed to still be classy, even through the New York undertones, "Nice to meet you."
Oh my god, I am totally a mistress.
"Husband. As in... h-husband and wife?" I inhaled a breath and looked back at Harlow who had his jaw clenched tight.
"Ex... husband. Ex. No longer. We're not together anymore. I told you that. Now, would you like to tell me what the fuck you're doing here and how you found me?" He gritted out, his hands closing into fists.
Cosette's head turned back to him like a robot, and I swore I saw her eye twitch, "No hello, Harlow?" She said condescendingly, "No, nice to see you? No, how are you, Cosette? I missed you? Hm. Funny, considering that's what you tell me on the phone every time I call, but hey, it's obvious you're busy with other things." She side eyed me for a second, "But I knew that already."
"You don't show up unannounced someplace you're not fucking invited to." Harlow snapped at her.
"Oh, but I do. Especially when you're hiring private investigatorsand not telling me about it." I'd never met someone with just as much fire as Harlow, but it seemed he'd really, truly met his match with this woman.
All of the color drained from Harlow's face, "How--"
Cosette cut him off, taking off her winter gloves and shoving them into the pocket of her burgundy coat, "Niko stopped by my apartment this morning to check in and told me some rather interesting things about you and what you've been doing behind my back with--"
"Behind your back?! Bella is my business! This has nothing to do with you!" Harlow barked, making me jump a little.
Cosette took several steps forward and got in his face, angrier than a bat out of hell, her jaw ticking and clenching. I half expected steam to come out of her ears, or her nose. And when she stopped less than an inch away from him, she said words I never thought I'd hear.
"Your business, huh? Last time I fuckin' checked, she was our daughter."
