The Billionare And I

Chapter 3 (Cassandra)

CHAPTER 3 (Cassandra)

I don't know why I was so cruel and vain, I wasn't brought up like this. I had a pretty normal family, we weren't extremely rich, neither were we famous - I had no reason to be so obnoxious or act as if I were Paris Hilton or something. But I did. I acted as if I was some stuck-up, posh, snobby, rich girl from Beverly Hills. I knew that I was prettier than the average twelve year old when I started high school, I had reached puberty earlier, hence my features enhanced more rapidly. Gone was my lanky body and bad posture, with the help of ballet; gone was my badly done bob haircut and pale skin; and of course, gone was my flat chest.

I soon turned into a girl with beautiful long, chocolate brown hair, with a curvy body, my breasts were considerably larger than the average - it ran in the family. My love for Christian Louboutin's happened when I turned sixteen and received them as a gift from my parents, during that year my dad got a huge promotion and we became incredibly rich. He showered my mother with diamonds and me with shoes; I had the time of my life. We went on vacations every holiday, Paris, Italy, New York, Australia, Thailand, etc. until dad got sick.

He told us the reason why he was spending a lot of family time and making sure his girls had everything they wanted. He was on stage 3 of cancer and nobody even knew. Our doctor advised him to live his life to the fullest and to make sure he was happy, and he did. He died when I was 17, that was when I grew, somewhat, cold. I wore everything my dad had ever given me, all the expensive clothing and shoes he had bought me before he died, and I always wore the diamond necklace he gave to mom. Mom couldn't bear to wear it, she was too depressed, she over-worked and pretty much forgot about me, even when I became cheer captain, aced my exams, etc. Which was when my grades started slipping and cares less, and less about school.

I knew I was a bitch, but that was the image I wanted to portray, better to be a bitch than be depressed like mom. It wasn't like I didn't feel bad every time I ignored girls wanting to be my friend, or rejecting boys, or bullying people - because I did. I cried every time I went home, I knew what people said about me behind my backs, I knew my 'friends' were only hanging out with me out of fear and using me for my popularity and fashion. But I went along with my Oscar-worthy act all the way till the end of graduation.

Graduation made me cringe every time I thought about it. The poor boy, who I humiliated in front of the entire grade, his family and teachers. I mean he was getting a scholarship as well, and I wasn't exactly sure what to do when he proclaimed his love for me. I panicked; it was a moment of 'what the fuck is happening' sort of state. People were staring at me as the boy, who I don't know, since I didn't both to acknowledge my whole life, said he loved me. Love! Why would anyone love a cruel person like me? I had to save him from the misery!

So, before I could register what I was doing, I drenched him with my drink, yelled at him and walked away fuming. I saw people laughing and taking photos of the boy, and a wave of guilt came upon me. I wanted to apologise, to explain myself, but I didn't have the guts to face him again. What a story to tell. I, Cassandra Marshall, scared to face a boy. I never saw him again; I looked for him after the ceremony and awards after realising that my own mother didn't show up for her only child's graduation.

I moved away after a year of working as a waitress, died my hair blonde and then I was scouted by a New York modelling scout, that was the highlight of my life. When I told mom that I was moving, she didn't care, or help me buy tickets or pack or gush to her friends that I was becoming a model. No, she was emotionless and went back to her stupid laptop and kept working. I didn't cry that day, instead, I called the scout and told him that I was leaving with him tomorrow morning. And I did. Mom didn't even wish me luck or say bye.