CRAZY RICH ILLÉANS

VI

Actions and Consequences


The soft rays of the sun tickling her cheeks wake Maeve up. She lies, bedded in soft, black velvet sheets, and the quiet whistling of the wind, the city and breathing welcome her in the morning. She opens her eyes and yawns. Maeve doesn't recognise the bedroom she's in—and yes, of course she doesn't, because its Alex Langston', and she's slept over here after yesterday. Yesterday. Maeve smiles to herself. She glances to Langston, still fast asleep, and choses not to let him see her with her glorious bed hair.

As quiet as possible,—because Gemma Maeve Schreave isn't an asshole and won't wake him up just yet—she leaves the master bedroom. She still wears his fancy shirt from yesterday—she had all prepared but pyjamas—when she walks down the stairs to the living room. It's almost a mini dress for her.

The penthouse is state of the art, wow. It's all she would expect from one of Illéa's richest, and given last night… Maybe Alex Langston is an even better candidate than Juan Santiago. Actors always lose their flair as they get older… The living room is large, spacious and has an aquarium spanning a whole wall. She can't find fish though. Odd, but still pretty. There's a whole wall with first class alcoholic drinks, too.

(Her mind roams to the possibilities of what she'd put in there.)

"Good morning, miss!"

Maeve, more than just surprised, turns around to find someone who appears to be a housekeeper. It's not like she and her mum don't have one, but they don't usually linger around like a hawk waiting for its prey. Heat shoots into her face. She's still wearing Alex' shirt and it's pretty damn obvious why she was here.

"Is Mr Langston awake?'

Play dumb. "Qui est-ce?" Not that dumb. You aren't Miles Morales. Or French. Isn't he Hispanic or something? Couldn't you at least reply in Spanish? As much as she loves spider-man, that's a big no. Again, she's not French and there's not the tiniest reason for her to start speaking French.

"Alexander Langston?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Sorry. Tired."

"Ah. Is he awake now?"

"No, don't think so."

"Then, would you like some breakfast?"

"Why not?" If that means getting Miss Housekeeper away from her, yes. She will take all the breakfast in the world. Maeve puts on a terribly forced smile and, instead, turns around to figure out where she's put her clothes.

Upstairs, of course.

She groans at her own stupidity and heads back, where Alex Langston is still fast asleep. She fishes her pants, clothes, and what not from the floor—yikes, wrinkles—and, eyeing the still sleeping Langston, quickly changes. At least he only wakes up when she's changed.

(That doesn't mean her bed hair is gone, but details.)

"Move a bit to the left, the sun's blending," Alex mutters between the sheets.

"What?"

"Just do it, Rina."

Ouch. She's not Rina. That's not even close to her name. How's she meant to react to that? That's not happened to her until now! She's Gemma Maeve Schreave! This doesn't happen to her! How does he dare! When she doesn't respond, Alex blinks at her and realises what's up.

"Ah, right, hello Emma."

"Gemma," Maeve huffs. Is he kidding her? "Gemma Maeve Schreave."

"Right. Can you move to the left a little now?"

Out of principle, Maeve does not move. Alex groans, but now he's got no choice but get used to the light. Maeve grabs her clothes, unsure if she's meant to be angry or ignore it. She's Gemma Maeve Schreave; he's got to say something next!

When Maeve doesn't move, Alex glares at her, and sighs. "Oh my. Not getting a hint, huh?" he says to himself. He then turns to Gemma. "You're boring me, darling. Leave."

What. The. Fuck. How dare you!

Dumbfounded, Maeve takes a moment to leave. She does, with the staff watching her voiceless. Do they know? Does this happen a lot? Is this normal? Is this normal? She blushes, and grabs her bag closer. Go away, just away, everything is fine.

(No, it isn't. It never was.)

How does he dare!? She's Gemma Maeve Schreave; you don't drop her like that! She's the heiress to one of the grandest fortunes in the world. He can't just send her out like that! Yet, he does.

Outside is, as Maeve quickly realises, not the pretty avenues, with trees by the sides and cafés opening up, she is used to from Likely, the business district where she grew up in, but some a tad more questionable street. Fennley. Illéa's good old red-light-district. Why is she not surprised that Alex Langston lives here?

Either way, she needs to get away from here before anyone comes onto the idea of questioning what Gemma Maeve Schreave is doing here. That means she picks up her phone and dials the only number that she could—in this situation.

Anna Lee sounds surprised when she picks up. "Maevy? What's up?"

"Where do you live again?"

"Columbia, why? Do you want to buy me an apartment?"

"Nah. Are you heading to work? If so, can you pick me up and drop me at home?"

"It's eleven o'clock. I've been at work for two hours."

"Oh."

"I can get you an uber though, or driver, if you fancy that. Where are you?"

Maeve glances around herself, but to her great dismay, the most noticeable landmark remains to be the entrance to the Goldfinger. That's Alex Langston's club, and a pretty clear indicator, if Griff's words were true. She should have listened to him. Really. With a sigh, she names it to Anna.

"Alex Langston? Seriously? No wonder I didn't catch you on any stories online. I was wondering if you ditched the party."

"You follow Noah? His friends?" How dare she? Noah is her archenemy!

"Among others, yes. Why—are you jealous that I don't follow you?"

"He's related to your employer!" Maeve insists. As much as she can with the phone in her hand, she crosses her arms and glances around. There isn't even a café where she can get herself a drink. Terrible. Note to self—never go to Fennley unless you want to go clubbing.

(She's totally not jealous.)

"The driver is coming to pick you up. Should be ten minutes, twenty at best. I told him you're at the Goldfinger. Can you cope for that long?"

"Yeah, thanks."

The call ends, and Maeve wants to disappear into the ground. Great. Rebecca will definitely end up hearing of that. Maybe, Maeve thinks, she can sell this as a try to settle down—although one-night stand and a "you're boring me, darling" afterwards doesn't sound all too good.

"I shouldn't have given in that easily..." She shakes her head. Yet, Langston was hot, rich, and he was inviting her to a helicopter trip—something he probably does do with everyone else after all.

Her phone beeps. Maeve fully expects it to be a text from Anna, or the driver, but when she looks down, she finds that it isn't. It's a notification about being added to a group chat, named "Questionable Life Choices".

(Maeve sighs. What is she doing with her life?)


/ Questionable Life Choices (13 unread messages)

Rina (rinasong): say hi to our newest club member

Kenzie (choikenzie): Didn't we say we wouldn't add anyone without everyone agreeing and knowing her?

Poppy (poppypoppypoppy): I agree, but it's pretty much too late now, isn't it?

Poppy (poppypoppypoppy): Hi Gemma 💕

Poppy (poppypoppypoppy): Welcome to the club 💕

Vienna (ViennaVanWell): I thought this chat was dead?

Vivian (vivirosethorne): I agree. It was only one time for most of us here.

Mariposa (mariposamua): Heyyy! Nice to meet you!

Noah (noahthesurfer): Yeah.

Noah (noahthesurfer): Also. Why am I in this chat again? Isn't this about having slept with Alex?

Vienna (ViennaVanWell): Happy birthday, Noah. I hope the party went well. Sorry I couldn't come.

Rina (rinasong): you're in every gc, noah, so you're in this one too, congratz

Noah (noahthesurfer): Don't worry. I hope that Europe is fun.

Maeve (gemmaeve): what is this? i'm confused.

Rina (rinasong): a gc with everyone who slept with alex

Rina (rinasong): well not everyone-everyone but the cool people

Rina (rinasong): welcome

Maeve (gemmaeve): thanks…?


(At least this Rina—must be the girl Langston mentioned—says she's cool.)

The driver arrives, and Maeve is given a five second break from questioning her life choices. In the car, she tells the driver to drop her home, and she leans against the cold window in the Illéan heat. Great. Noah knows. So much about 'let's not tell family'. And worse, it's Noah. Noah sucks.

(Maeve also does not comprehend how Rina got her contact details.)

At home, she disappears into the shower—hides there. Maybe going back abroad would be better after all. Who needs inheritance—Maeve wouldn't mind working in teaching English again, or maybe work in a business abroad. Just avoid life here! Who knows—she probably could have gotten a decent job somewhere else and just continued pretending to Maeve Daulton! No need to deal with rich arrogant guys who have no interest in her except for a goddamn one-night stand!

(It's not like she could have guessed. No, never.)

Besides, she is Gemma Maeve Schreave. Gemma Schreave is the Schreave heiress. She's wealthy, makes the right decisions, and she's Rebecca Schreave's granddaughter. Because she's Rebecca Schreave's granddaughter. Rebecca Schreave is that woman that came back from the bottom, with nothing but her own wit, wisdom and talent. Gemma Schreave will inherit the Schreave Empire, with all that Rebecca Schreave has built and done. She'll change the world, and reign from her throne. Gemma Schreave is the girl all of Illéa is watching. It's the girl that a mysterious hacker talks about, because who doesn't want to know more.

That all—that isn't Maeve.

Her phone rings again when Maeve leaves the bathroom in the fluffy comfy bathrobe. She eyes the caller ID. Mum. There isn't exactly much she can do but pick it up, can she? Stand still, answer and then figure out how she's going to escape this mess.

"Hi, mum," she says into the phone and steps to the window. Even though the sun is high in the sky, the window is still cold. As cold as her disappointment into, well, everything.

"Gemma, honey, where are you?"

"At home, why?"

"You were going to come in into work today." Daphne is disappointed too.

Oh great. Everyone's disappointed. May as well just rename myself to Gemma Disappointment Schreave, Maeve thinks.

"People have fixed work hours, honey. You can't just skip on it."

"Mum, I worked as assistant English teacher. I know that."

"May I ask why you're not here, then?"

"I—I messed up." Hasn't Anna told her yet?

There's a pause, and some talking in the background happens. Maeve wants to roll her eyes, but she can't look up. Not when she's evidently not managing to be Gemma Schreave, like she's meant to be. Not compared to mum who's running a real estate empire for her mother-in-law as if it's just getting up out of her bed in the morning—and that's something Daphne Daulton-Schreave actually struggles with.

"Alex Langston?"

Maeve has nothing to say.

"At least you got his number in case someone hacks Estelle again?" Daphne jokes.

Not fun, mum. Not fun. "I don't."

"You slept with him!" she calls out. "How did you not get his number?"

"No need to shout that through the office…?"

"Why did you do that in the first place?" Maeve can hear Anna in the office, calling out. "It's Alex Langston. There is no way you wouldn't have heard about his reputation. Even your mum knows that, and she's got no friends!"

"Excuse me?" Daphne feigns indignation.

"Boyfriend Selection™. Gotta get someone, and he was pretty… open for it."

"Since when do you fall in love with your one-night stand, honey? I'm fifty-three years old, and even I know that. Gosh, I'm old…"

Maeve groans. Shut up mum. You have no idea. "It was worth a shot, okay?"

"It's Alex Langston."

"I haven't been in Illéa for ages! Mum, seriously! There's no reason to bully me for this!" She's about to throw her Fortune 8, Elysian tech's newest phone—actually a year old— against the wall.

"Theoretically, I'm just a salty boss because you aren't at work."

Does Daphne get what she is on about? If she could turn time back, then yes, she'd be there! Of course, she'd be there! Shut up, mum, you have no idea what this is about. You have no idea, no idea what is going on and what this means—you'd never get this.

She bits on her lip, desperate not to jump at her mother. "Alright. I'm on my way. Give me time to dress and I'll be there."

"Great. You can accompany me to lunch with a client."

"Fun."

(More fun than Alex Langston, at least.)

[ - - - ]

/ Rose Cotillion Support Group

Maeve (gemmaeve): alex langston sucks. don't take him to the cotillion.

Sia (fioraderossi): I must agree.

Sia (fioraderossi): "Pizza". I don't have time for that. It's demeaning.

Gabby (GabbyCantHearYou): Yeah, he is. He calls me a child. I AM NINETEEN YEARS OLD.

[ - - - ]

Besides the (fortunate) affirmation by her lovely friends (busy working and studying, busy in Thailand, Maeve wishes she was), Maeve goes along to a fancy-dancy business lunch with a French lady, regarding an upcoming deal. Anna eyes her like a little child—Maeve wants to scream, "I know, leave me alone!", but at least both Daphne and Anna don't say a word. A deal isn't worth bullying Maeve, at least.. Maeve leaves work at point five o'clock, throws herself on her bed and prays that Daphne has physiotherapy and won't be here.

She stares at the wall for hours as if it holds answers, until she grabs her phone. Sia is asking if the dress she is wearing looks good. Simi likes it, she states, and so does Gabby. Even if she's late, Maeve agrees, without even looking. For what is it, again? Right—Noah's birthday. Because he needs two of them. Before she can dive into the rabbit holes of the internet, she gets a peculiar twitter notification—Estelle Mun is live with The Love Report.

"Why not?" she wonders. At least Estelle is nice to her. She gets through immediately, doesn't even need to threaten with who she is.

(Which probably wouldn't work either way.)

"Hello there! You're live on The Love Report, and this is Estelle Mun. Why don't you introduce yourself to our listeners?"

Maeve channels her best 'This is how Celeste and Tessa talk'. "Hi, it's me, America Singer. I totally called before about a week ago, if you, like, remember." She better does, given how much the internet talked about her for one day. Then, the Hack happened, and the topic switched to Gemma Schreave. God knows where it's now. She doesn't dare to look.

"Oh, yes, I do," Estelle replies. She chuckles amused. "How is your search going?"

"Totally terrible. Like, to totally make a long story short, I, like, slept with this guy, and he flirted with me, and yes, I totally know how one night stands work, but now, like, kinda' everyone knows, and my mum is totally low-key bullying me, barf!"

There's a pause. "I see…" It's almost as if Estelle knows Alex. Maybe Maeve really underestimated his reputation. "Uhm… When did this all happen?"

"Like, last night. Ohmigod this is really happening…"

Estelle takes a deep breath. "I see. To be honest, I wouldn't say that he's even worth your time. I've only spoken to you twice now, but is some random guy worth dragging you down?" She pauses. "Do sit down your parents and explain to them that their behaviour makes you uncomfortable. Be the adult in the situation."

She nods. "Ah, yeah. Seriously, I totally think that someone else I know—and hate!-like, heard about the whole tea. What do I, like, do if he's all making fun of me, like I think?"

Estelle pauses again. "Hmm… Do they seem like a person that would do it?"

"To me? Totally, lol." Maeve glances at her nails. Anna wanted to get a professional to do them for her, but wasting that much money on nails? It sends cold shivers down her spine. She coped well enough without professionals doing them. For years, to be exact. "Seriously, like, I totally think he'd be all happy if I don't come today. Geez…"

"May I ask why you are meeting in the first place?"

"Like, a family function."

"Ah, I see. Would he bring that up in front of your family, though?"

"Totally. And, like, my inheritance is still seriously at stake, and like, his mum is, like, seriously, a major bitch. His dad, too."

"I see. If everyone knows, could you—"

"Like, seriously, she's such a bitch and like always, gossips around me and my mum, whom she, like, really hates. It's ridiculous! And, like, his dad is just jealous of me. He's like a big nightmare, honestly, and I wish he'd just stop, because, like—"

"Would they? Besides, is having a one-night stand in itself bad?"

Can she imagine the Schreaves listening to The Love Report? No—not at all. Impossible. As if Mary Schreave would waste her time on a podcast. "No," Maeve decides therefore.

"So even if your mother teases you, what could you to do make them think that this little detail doesn't affect you?"

"Like—I don't really now? Own it? That's, like, totally a no. It's, like, so embarrassing!"

Estelle chuckles. "But can anyone in your family mind-read?"

"… No, they can't."

"So, what stops you from owning it?"

Maeve huffs. "Like, me."

"There you go! Just go, and own it!" Estelle hums.

"Hmhm. Thanks." She forces a smile. "As if that'll work."

"Give your best. People don't spend that much time thinking about others."

Unless you're Gemma Maeve Schreave, but alright. The call ends. Yikes. Yeah—she'll totally own the whole thing, including Alex Langston! She'll wing it! To proof that (to herself), she gets up, into the closet and begins looking through the countless dresses. If she's owning this, then she needs to look that way.

Doing her nails by herself (because why would she pay someone if she can do it herself) takes a little bit more time, but unlike this morning, Maeve is on-time at Noah's childhood home. It's far less impressive when you compare it to the Illéa Palace, but it's old, and even if Maeve ever would have wanted, she couldn't have lived in one of these fancy buildings.

(Wheelchairs, you know.)

This time, and probably because of the party, she's neither late nor extraordinary early. She walks past the entrance and what not, and given her arrival, there are quite a few people in the reception hall. Illéa may not be old, but to Maeve the building could be from Victorian times. The style was probably chosen on purpose.

"Hello!" A confident young woman with strawberry blonde hair approaches her. Maeve recognises her from the party. "I haven't seen you around yet."

The way she talks makes it clear—she expects no need for an introduction. Marina Klydeworth did, however, not count on Gemma Maeve Schreave and her absolute lack of knowledge of anyone upper class in Illéa. Maeve can't avoid saying that she doesn't capture the attention of the guests as she approaches Maeve, and she's not a fan. That's meant to be her!

(That's not true, she recognises Rina from Instagram, but that doesn't mean she knows her name.)

"Gemma Maeve Schreave," Maeve replies.

"Aah, yeah, I remember. You're Alex newest one-night stand." Fuck. So much about people not knowing. Maeve slowly pieces things together. Marina must be Rina. Yikes. "I like your dress. It fits the theme well."

"… Theme?"

Rina points at pretty much everything and Maeve gets the hint. There's an obvious theme in the decoration going on—light blue, sea shells and beach in general. Given Noah's love for the beach—understandable. At least Maeve's light blue off shoulder dress fits the theme… Damn—she needs to get Mary to organise her birthday…

"I'm fairly sure Mary was pretty proud of it all. Not so sure if Noah isn't embarrassed to death, but hey," she shrugs, "I guess it looks good?"

"A bit like a children's party," Maeve admits, "but they did do a lot. It doesn't look like the ball room looked like when I was here last."

"Oh, that's true. I heard that you've been travelling for a while? Where were you?"

Cue Maeve listing all the different places she's been to longer than 'for just a sightseeing trip' on the planet. Given the fact that Maeve has been to every country on the planet, she can't list that. "Last was Hong Kong, again. It was… eye-opening."

"Aha." Rina flips her hair. "I saw that Tessa Tamble follows you on Instagram. Do you know her?"

Maeve nods. It's that friend from California that was about to debut with her first album, thanks to dad's money and all. "Do you?"

"She just signed with Worthy Productions. My parents run it. She's going to have a concert Illéa soon, isn't she? I heard she signed some other contract too."

Maeve shrugs. She hasn't been in contact. "Dunno, is she?"

Rina flips her hair and nods. Tessa Tamble is a pretty, stereotypical valley girl with a dad who succeeded at Wall Street and/or Silicon Valley (she forgot, one of them, maybe both if Tessa got lucky), who always dreamt of her big break. She's also a friend of Celeste, and that's never good.

"Aww, too bad. Let me know if you hear about anything more. I heard it's something quite interesting."

"If she's signing with your parents' company," Gemma realises, "then why don't you ask them?"

The cheerful, social smile falls from her face. "Oh please," she huffs, "I'd rather listen to Poppy's nerd rants than talk to my dad. He's worse than new-rich."

Maeve cringes. "How can you be worse than new-rich."

Worse than Celeste sounds round about impossible, and Celeste Newsome is the worst of the new-rich.

"Wait until you meet my dad," Rina replies. She shrugs. "Have fun at the party. With good old Mary around, I doubt we'll have much fun."

She walks off and leaves Maeve in the crowd, alone. She finds her mum—because of course, her goddamn mum is the only person in this room she can stand that won't leave her or knows of her late night activities, wait, mum does that too—and given the lack of other choices, heads there. She's with Mary. Great. And Julian. Better. She might as well leave.

"The whole Estelle Mun is a huge problem," Julian insists. "Stocks, ladies. It's my name on the line too."

Daphne sighs, "I am very well aware. I've had a client bring it up too. I'm a tad more worried for Gemma's safety."

"It's been a week. Illéa is over it. People talk about Tessa Tamble and her arrival in Illéa. Thank god she's not coming to the Rose Cotillion. We have enough of that new-rich folk over there."

"Today, just having money makes you wealthy," Julian complains, "It's horrific. Back when I was young, money meant something. Now it means driving Lamborghinis."

Mary sighs. "The amount of Louis Vuitton I am seeing today is just as terrible. There is no high society left to associate with…"

"… Hi." Maeve waves awkwardly.

"Ah. The heart of the problem," Julian mutters.

"It's not like I'm the only one in the news, or rumours," Maeve jags back. She throws up her head, high in pride and totally not stumbling over her words in worry. "Look at Alex Langston—" So much about owning it. Better, not mentioning it.

"We all know that Titus Junior is a lost case," Mary deadpans.

"I can hear you!" Alex called out from awfully close. Maeve naturally tenses up, but he walks past, Griffin Vael by his side, and towards Rina Klydeworth. She turns back (puts her head up high again) and ignores them because Estelle Mun is right, she's better than that and she will own it!

(She just needs to tell herself that often enough.)

"I'm well aware." Mary's smile is a killer. "Gemma, dear," she hums, "have you spoken to Noah yet? My darling, what did you get him?" She looks like she's won, because she thinks that she's got her. Too bad that Gemma Maeve Schreave has this one thing planned.

"It'ts surprise," she hums back. "I've been collecting sand from all kinds of beaches in the world, and had it made into a beautiful decorative wall piece."

"Oh." Mary is impressed by the obvious, natural-coming thoughtfulness of the present. Of course she is, this is Gemma Maeve Schreave behind it!

They're not an option to talk to either. Daphne is lovely (if not slow, yikes, she's always been super slow here) but if Mary and Julian are around, no thanks. She's got better things to do with her time. She waves them bye, and heads through the crowd. Grabs a drink and sips on it, when she finds a familiar, equally solemn face in the crowd. Jared, the Peasant.

"Hello you," she hums at him. He's no choice, obviously, but he's a decent guy to talk to, and looks well enough. "What are you doing here?"

"Noah's my flatmate. When his mum picked up on that, she invited me. The wrong choice, evidently."

Yeah, in your clothes, you looks like a rubbish bin. Even Maeve realises that. "It's only as fun as you make it."

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Jared huffs. "You didn't mention you're loaded."

"I'm not loaded." She's Gemma Maeve Schreave. She's more.

"Well, not loaded real estate heiress, you're the cousin of my flatmate, and he's loaded. Sounds pretty damn loaded to me."

"Of course, Noah is your flat mate."

"Unlike you—he mentioned you live with your mum?—he pays his own bills," Jared notes. He's got his own glass. Maybe his inhibitions are lower; elsewise he wouldn't dare to speak to Gemma Maeve Schreave like that.

"How'd this arrangement come to be?"

"I needed a side job, got it at the club as front desk dude, got thrown out of my old flat because the rents here in Illéa are worse than in Hong Kong and Seoul combined—can you do something on that?—and he offered me a room to crash. His old flatmate just left, I think. Then my sister came over because of her PhD and now we're three. How about you?"

"I make my own bills too," Gemma spits. "I work at my family's company."

"Ah, yes, daddy got you a job?"

Gemma's smile drops. "Sweetie, don't talk about things you don't know about."

"Of course, rich kid jargon I don't know? How about Estelle Mun?"

If her smile could drop any further, it would. Maeve sighs. "I am terribly sorry as to what happened to Miss Mun, but I do not have any connection to it. Anyone claiming that will hear of my lawyers." More, Jared Kim does not need to know. He's a peasant, she tells herself, and worse, he is friends with Noah. Evidently no company she wants to keep. "Do excuse me, I have other people to greet."

(Great. Maeve screwed up the one person she get along a bit.)

She looks around. There's no Juan Santiago to talk to, and Alex Langston and Griff Vael are off-limit. She won't deal with them one more time. There! At least one guy she knows—Perci Santos, the cutie from the bar—but he's with another two girls. Redheads.

"Oh great," Maeve mutters but heads on. "Hi there! Hi, Perci."[ML1]

The two red-heads and Perci turn to her. The two redheads eye her, almost as if they know her. The older one—probably her age—wears a dark blue sequin cocktail dress; even Maeve with her limited knowledge of high society fashion recognises that the contrast between her dress and the fiery hair makes her one of the event's best dressed. She matches with Rina Klydeworth's style and natural beauty; either of them could be models.

That's what Maeve is up against. Great.

"Do you know another?" the second girl, equally dressed beautifully but apparently even younger than Kenzie Choi, asks Perci.

"Oh, uhm, yeah," he laughs awkwardly. Then, that charming boyish smile comes back. "This is Maeve. We met in elementary school, before I went to Britain."

"Nice to meet you," the younger redhead says. The other smiles, too, but she fiddles with her immaculately painted nails. It's awfully distracting. "I'm Rosalind Astor, and this is my sister, Poppy. Do you know Noah?"

"He's my cousin," Maeve replies. "I just got back home."

How have these people not heard of me yet? If even through Estelle?

"You're Gemma, then?" Poppy Astor concludes.

"Yes, that's me. Gemma Maeve Schreave."

"Oh, dad talked about you! You should have said that." Rosalind remembers. "It's so nice to meet you, Gemma. I heard a lot about you."

(Is that why Illéa doesn't recognise her? Her name? Kind of makes sense. They only know her as Gemma, not Maeve… Good one, Maeve. Forgot that.)

Poppy draws in a sharp breath. "Right. Great. You're from his dad's side, then?"

"Yes, Julian is my uncle." Time to change topic. "I like your accent; are you from Britain, too?"

"We grew up there," Rosalind beams. Her eyes are big, like those of a little puppy. "There's a whole group of people we know who grew up in Britain. It's amazing how many did. Perci, Sia, Kenzie, us two…" she trails off after throwing in more names Maeve doesn't know.

"What's with all the Brits? It's almost the only place I've never been to," she jokes.

"Grandma Agreste always said that if you want your child to grow up as a decent person, you send them to England. Only new-rich chose America."

Maeve laughs. "I chose America, and I am not new-rich." She catches the mistake in her words just as she talks. She can see that in Rosalind's forced smile. "I get what you mean, though…" Celeste. Tessa. Kirstie. They're one big nightmare.

"You do you," Poppy insists. "If it's what you enjoy, then by all means, you should go for it."

Maeve smiles. Thank god, Poppy is a good person. She likes her. Maybe—even with her age—she's new to the Cotillion too? Maybe this is yet another friend? "Are you going to the Rose Cotillion, too?"

Rosalind sighs. "Next year. I'm still too young this year. Poppy is going, though. She goes every year."

"I am," Poppy nods. "You'll too, then? Got a date yet?" To Perci, she asks, "Has the Bachelor's Brunch happened yet?"

"It's next week," Maeve replies for him. If Poppy 'goes every year', then she won't be a debutante this year. Too bad, but it means she's not rivalry or anything. That's good, isn't it? "You're going, aren't you?"

"Probably, yes," Perci replies. He still blushes. "Maeve, have you met Ori yet? She was in our school too. The Russian doll?"

"Pardon me?" Maeve repeats. She's not (even if the name rings a bell) met her. Not in the past ten years, at least. "Who?"

"Kenzie's best friend,"a Poppy elaborates. "Were you at Noah's party yesterday? You would have met her. I think I missed Kenzie, though…"

"I didn't, unfortunately. Can you point her out for me?" Not that she actually wants to meet her. If this Ori is close with Kenzie Choi, then she's probably close to Noah too. No, thanks.

Of course, Poppy does so ("It's the girl talking to Nate and Arabella!" whom she doesn't find) and after exchanging numbers (and also finally getting Percival Santos' contact details), she heads on through the crowd, past her dear mother and her friends, and into the direction of Ori (a blonde that looks like Barbie and yes, Maeve remembers her) as pointed out. Rosalind is a lovely person, but unfortunately too young. Poppy too, even if a bit nervous. She might be a good friend in the future. On her way to Orianna Vasilieva (and Kenzie Choi, with new hair colour), that's when she catches up on Julian speaking.

(Anyone but him, please.)

"I'm just saying, you know that Noah at least knows how to run a business. His surf club has pushed competition into closure."

"I'm aware of that, Julian," Rebecca replies, just as calm as she always does.

"Please don't tell him, but I heard he's planning to set up a second one too." He sighs. "Do look at Gemma. She has no idea on how to do business. A piece of paper doesn't mean she has any actual knowledge. I doubt she knows how to handle money at all."

"Noah learned how to handle money through mistakes in the surf club. Gemma grew up budgeting money because we both know that the American Daulton branch has no real money. She has done internships all over the planet, too. Look at her. That dress? Not haute couture. I wouldn't put it past being from some small boutique here, where everyone buys."

Is Rebecca saying that she looks cheap!? Hell she does, Maeve has seen the bill for her outfit today.

"Are you judging her based on that? Have you seen that girl growing up?"

Maeve speeds up her walk. She needs to hear no more. She's not cheap! She has style and class and has Julian even seen the whole bill? She doesn't head for Orianna (hell she would) but to the balcony where nobody could see the tears on her cheeks.

She's not cheap! She has style! She belongs here! She is Gemma Maeve Schreave, for crying out loud!

"Gemma?" someone calls out, like the kind, caring saviour. Except it's Noah and he's the last goddamn person on this planet that Maeve wants to see.

"What is it," she spats at him. She doesn't look cheap—he does, in his old shaggy beach club that's so much more established in Illéa than the heiress to literally most land in the whole goddamn country.

"Why are you here? People haven't even finished arriving…" Noah worries. "Are you alright? Do you need a doctor? You look pale…"

"I'm not pale!" she hisses. "I'm fine!" She's totally not screwing up her whole life on this god forsaken island that she kind of wants. She's totally not going to lose her inheritance over looking cheap and being cheap by sleeping with Alex fucking Langston.

"Sure…?" Noah hesitates.

Goddamn it, can't Noah shut up for once? Does he always need to be the good saviour guy? He isn't even white! Who else is watching, besides Rebecca and mum and Julian and Mary and everyone else on this island that she might care about? Of course, Noah Schreave is always the good guy and the hero and the one that everyone loves so much.

(Noah Schreave has to be the bad guy here.)

"Shut up!" she calls out, too loud. God knows how many people turn to her. Typically Noah! He's making this happen on purpose; making it look like she's causing a scene. She's not doing anything! Absolutely nothing!

Noah frowns. "Alright…? Do you need anything, though?"

The confusion in his face is genuine, and maybe, that's actually the worst part of it. Maeve isn't the bad guy. Noah is the bad guy. She's not causing a scene either! Her reaction is totally valid and absolutely not overdramatic!

"No! Just, go away!"

His hands rise defensive. Of course, he has to pretend to be the good guy who didn't do a single thing. He steps back, almost turns around, but no—Gemma Maeve Schreave has enough. She doesn't want to deal with him here, not right now because Noah Schreave is always right and she doesn't need to deal with that right now.

"Leave me alone!" she calls out, too loud.

Gemma Maeve Schreave rushes off, through the crowd, to the door. Away from the party, to the outside to drive home and get away. As you do.


Chapter Recap:

After waking up at Alex Langston's house, Maeve's pride is quickly insulted by Alex not being interested in anything else but a one night stand. Anna and Daphne tease her for falling for him, which she doesn't take well either. She calls Estelle for help, whose advice summarises to 'own it'. She attempts that at Noah's formal birthday celebration, but besides Rina Klydeworth calling her Alex' newest one-night-stand, Jared being salty at her for being rich, Julian and Mary being bothered by the drama she is causing, and her meeting Poppy Astor and her sister, when Noah meets her concerned about her mood, she causes a scene.

Next Chapter: Maeve goes to an event to find a boyfriend, but only finds girls and people in relationships


This chapter was brought to you by Maeve being a drama queen. It also introduces Poppy and Rina!

I had zero motivation editing this month, so I'm sorry for doing this to you. In other news, I've finally (in the chapters I have written but not uploaded, unsurprisingly) introduced everyone and started with the first round of dates! I'm excited! We'll have met all 13 cast members by chapter 10 (I think). I hope. Also check out the Pinterest board; a new wave of aesthetics has arrived!

Let me know what you think of the events of this chapter, the new characters and what you think will happen next! I hope you got lots of second-hand embarrassment!