Adelle smiled and shook her head, pretending to be amused by her friend's husband as he badly sang a rendition of a latest hit. She hoped her eyes looked engaged despite the fact her fingers were flying across a keyboard, making sure that nothing was amiss despite her absence.

Not that she didn't trust her staff. Quite the contrary- in recent weeks, she had felt more secure than she had in ages, despite the problems with certain Actives.

This was another party she had to endure. Her father, a prominent professor at a local university, had left shit loads of money when he died for various charities, causes, and scientific research. That was part of the reason she'd secured a job so early at Rossum.

But after his death, she was finding herself more and more frequently attending such functions.

And it bored her.

Worse than bored her, really. It made her feel more alien and unreal than the Dolls in her house.

"What do you do again, Adelle?"

"Scientific research management."

"And what does that consist of?"

"Paperwork."

They would laugh, and think Oh how charming his daughter is! but internally she was screaming and dying, miserable beyond words. She couldn't speak a word- couldn't utter a single syllable about her real work even if someone had a gun to her head.

She was in deeper than she ever imagined.

Adelle lifted the cognac to her lips and took a deep swing, making her throat burn deliciously and her stomach flame up in appreciation.

That was her house, her home, and god damn it, she would get it back.

She dressed deliberately the next morning, selecting her wardrobe like a well-tailored armor.

What a ridiculous idiot she must sound like, she thought to herself. I am not a warrior, I am not a fighter. I am nothing, I am a pawn, I am on the front line, I am to die first.

And Adelle believed this true. She wasn't blind. She knew the power balance was going out of her favor. The indiscretions and knowledge that her particular Dollhouse house would be revealed, and she would be sent to the Attic for good.

The Attic.

It jolted her awake. Hangover momentarily forgotten, she selected a gray suit with the simple silver lining.

Stepping out of her night gown, she pulled on an underwear ensemble of black lace and studied herself in the mirror. Could she still be considered pretty? Beautiful? Desirable?

She felt so empty, so… utterly worthless. How little human life was worth these days. And worse- how little her life was worth.

As she straightened her oxford and slipped into her skirt, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The woman staring back felt foreign, as if she was only a façade of the soul of the real person underneath.

Real person? She laughed at herself.

"You, Topher, were chosen because you have no morals."

She saw the hurt in his eyes and immediately regretted her words. Of course he had morals, of course he did. How could he not? Those big, puppy dog eyes didn't hold a single lie, and she knew that above all, he just wanted to please, and in turn, be allowed to do what he loved. She knew, but Adelle Dewitt, the boss Adelle Dewitt, could never know that.

But inside, she knew. Adelle knew. She was chosen because she didn't have a soul.

The next day she descended down into the Dollhouse, her bag held firmly in her hand. She felt a terrible urge to swing it at everyone who walked past her, as if to knock them out for good and then chuck them into the middle of a bustling city never to see them again- never to have them remember.

But that was a fantasy, and her fantasies, she had learned. Never ever come true.