web of lies | kate bishop x yelena belova

four | gals and galas

Kate Bishop stepped into her childhood penthouse. The room was adorned with elegant furnishings and modern art pieces. She stepped into the space, her boots clicking against the polished marble floor.

Her gaze drifted upward to the chandelier, a fixture that held memories. Kate remembers the day she tried to swing on it, but broke her arm as a result.

Eleanor Bishop, clad in designer clothing, looked up from the mini bar where she stood. Kate's entrance seemed to draw only a little bit of her attention, as she seemed to focus on making herself a drink.

"Hello, Kate," Eleanor greeted. There was no warmth in her tone, no genuine interest in her daughter's well being.

Kate approached the bar. "Hi, Mom. How's your day going?"

"Busy, as always." She replied shortly. Making her drink seemed to be the only thing important.

Kate wanted to roll her eyes. The girl then eyed the expensive whiskey sitting at her mother's bar. Giving a few seconds to think she went ahead and grabbed the shiny bottle. Eleanor looked up and watched her daughter drink from the bottle, not even bothering to grab a glass.

Eleanor's eyes flicked to the bottle in Kate's hand, a subtle disapproval etched on her face. "Kate, honey, at least grab a glass," she sighed.

Kate complied, not because of her mother's request but more to avoid further conflict. She poured herself a small glass, taking a sip and resisting the urge to make a face at the strong taste.

"So, about the gala tonight," Kate began, "Is it another one of those high society gatherings where you make deals and alliances that benefit only the rich?"

Eleanor shot her daughter a disdainful look, her perfectly manicured nails tapping on the marble countertop. "Kate, you might want to learn some tact before attending events like this. It's not just about deals, it's about maintaining our status and ensuring a future for yourself."

Kate raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You could've said that without sounding like you're stepping on everyone else."

Eleanor dismissed her daughter's comment with a wave of her hand. "Stop being so sensitive, Kate. It's a skill you'll need if you're going to survive in this world."

Kate clenched her jaw, frustrated with her mother's words, "I can survive without belittling others, thank you very much."

Eleanor glanced at her watch, a subtle indication that she had more important things to attend to. "Enough of this, Kate. Go put on the dress I bought for you. It's a nice shade of red."

Now Kate was mad, "You know I don't wear dresses, Mom. Why waste your money on something you know I won't use?"

Eleanor's gaze hardened. "It's not about what you want, Kate. It's about what's expected. Now, go get ready. We can't be fashionably late if you're dragging your feet."

Kate grabbed her glass and finished the rest of her whiskey. As she gulped it down she felt the sensational burn go down her throat. "You know what mom, go ahead, I'll meet you there."

Eleanor looked up at her daughter, then back at her watch on her wrist. "Okay but don't be late."

Kate watches as her mother walks away. Eleanor turns around before she reaches the door, "Oh and I invited your sister, please make sure she doesn't embarrass me."

And with that she left the penthouse.

Kate looked over at the half-empty bottle back on the counter, she shook her head at the thought of her mother's expectations. "Fuck this," she muttered to herself. Kate lifted the whiskey bottle once more. This time, she took a longer swig, savoring the burn as it trailed down her throat.