Chapter Forty-One

Bad Blood

''We all have one foot in a fairytale,

And the other in the abyss.''

''I'm here not to discuss matters at hand,'' Bart spoke clearly, skimming through papers in front of him. ''It's about Tropic-''

At that very moment, the meeting was interrupted by a figure storming into the spacious office. Bart stiffened at the sight of his renegade son.

''You'll drop charges.'' Chuck demanded vehemently, ignoring everyone else in the room, though it was filled with important Manhattan businessmen invested in notable Millennium - Tropic partnership. ''Immediately.''

''Get out.'' His father spat, looking at him in disdain.

Not even his brief escapade had managed to flush the damned girl out of his system. How humiliating. Bart smiled imperceptibly, for a pang of sadistic pleasure struck him as he thought of that triumphant lawsuit. Did those moronic mundanes really think they could drag the Bass name through the mud without repercussions?

''You'll drop them!'' His son slammed his fist on the table upon detecting the smug expression of his father, his eyes blazing that fire Bart often saw in his ex-wife. The son and the mother sometimes suffered the same violent temper, smoothed over with elegant sleek manners. Something in him stirred unpleasantly. He said nothing as Diana dialed reception and summoned forth the security, letting her make the call.

''This is the last time you're making a scene.'' Bart calmly replied after she was done, recognizing the right time to instill some fierceness in his speech - aware that all eyes are trained on him. He couldn't just let this outburst slide, especially not with an audience, and was sure that even if Chuck was dumb enough to retaliate, security would already be kicking him out. ''I've had it with your attitude.''

''Are you threatening me?'' Chuck said in a low voice, looking down at his father in a way no son should be allowed to. With scorn, with aversion. ''With what?! What do I have to lose?''

''Money?'' He went on more loudly as Bart shifted his shoulders in vivid discomfort. ''Power? My father?''

There ensued an awkward pause after that heavy word, a word which carried so much meaning and yet, in the end, meant nothing at all. At that moment, security came and Chuck proudly straightened himself, his nostrils flaring in fury. ''I'll make my own money. I don't need yours.''

So typical of Bart Bass to buy his way into love and after that to blackmail you with it. So typical, so crushing, so disappointing.

''As if you were ever even a father.''

''What are you waiting for? Escort him out.'' Bart snapped, nervously rolling a pen in his hand, making an effort to stay collected under his son's intense gaze. A gaze that said 'You can pretend here, in front of these clowns that don't know you, but I know you. You can't pretend with me.'

''Please,'' A young guard in a dark black suit gestured towards doors, hand on his earpiece, keeping his respectful distance, knowing all to well about the great Chuck Bass. ''Sir, please.''

With last disgusted glance at Diana, Chuck left the office.

It was already night when they passed the Williamsburg bridge and entered Manhattan. The stars had disappeared behind a thick curtain of smog, the stale air hung heavy and suffocating. The familiar blur of city lights, ones she had almost forgotten about, ran past her sleepy eyes. Dazed, she watched the rush of loud traffic and shadows of people on the sidewalk, all the while holding Chuck's hand.

The scene felt grim. It was too crowded, too bright, too noisy. It almost felt like Manhattan didn't want them here, as if it resented their elopement into the beautiful, untouched country.

But Chuck felt her unease and squeezed her fingers lightly, drawing her to his chest. Sighing, she closed her eyes and, worn out with journey, fell asleep.

Blair was awoken by the irritating ringing of the doorbell. Groggily, she rubbed her eyes and sat up. Without warning, walls spun around her in infinite vertigo. Her eyes fluttered against the breaking light between purple silken curtains, world slowing down and finally staying still. She froze as disorientation took over, having no recollection of the unfamiliar room she stood in.

Was it a dream? She was so used to the cabin after the past few days, her brain had forgotten they had come back to New York. The ringing of the doorbell once again recommenced, shaking her out of momentary confusion. Blair flung the silken covers away, only now recognizing Chuck's old apartment - a penthouse in San Remo. It had been months since she had last come to the place.

She quickly snatched a bathrobe from the hanger and covered her half-naked body. Affectionate warmth flooded over her body as snippets of last night settled in through the curtain of fatigue; Chuck carrying her sleeping body, Chuck gently undressing her, Chuck kissing her forehead and tucking her in.

She opened the doors and was shocked to find furious Evelyn on the other side.

''You.'' Evelyn said with poorly hidden contempt. ''Of course you'd be here.''

The woman, clad in an elegant rose-colored wool coat, shouldered past her and stalked into the apartment. Though her voice appeared stable, her eyes were narrowed in a solid glower.

''Chuck isn't here.'' Blair brushed her off, struggling hard to sound airy. She was painfully aware of heavy disadvantage at hand: still undressed even though the hour just struck noon, sporting awful case of bed hair and eyes puffy from sleep. All in all, Blair looked like Amanda Bynes in 2014. ''I think it's best we don't speak.''

''I don't care what you think,'' The woman's dark eyes flashed, her gloved hands clutching a Chanel purse. ''Don't you dare try to emotionally blackmail me. Whatever happened is all your own doing.''

''You're filled with such hate,'' Blair thought out loud, still clinging to that raw honesty, beauty and simplicity she had experienced out in the country. And for the first time, she saw not elegance in Evelyn, not glamor, nor poise. Instead there was bitterness, resentment and hatred. How could she be like that next to everything she had? How was it possible? ''I can't understand you.''

''Let me explain things to you in a way you'll understand them'' Evelyn smiled tightly, her voice dripping with disdain. ''Chuck will lose everything. We're at the point where situation turned dangerously serious. His father will stop financing him. If you continue with this circus, soon enough he'll lose his last name as well.''

''Mere Chuck, unlike Charles Bass, will be of no use for you.'' She finished ominously, crossing arms at her chest.

''I feel sorry for you,'' Blair's upper lip curled in distaste as she eyed the hysterical woman in front of her, a woman that kept downplaying their love, refusing vehemently to accept the truth. Evelyn had no idea what Chuck and Blair went through to get to the point where they are now - a place of perfect unity. Soul mates. ''You don't even know your son. He doesn't care about his last name and the prestige it brings. Yet you don't know that.''

''Before you found out who I really am,'' She went on, building more confidence as her opponent listened in silent rage, but still stood mesmerized with incoming words. ''You told me I helped with your relationship. You were wrong. There was never a relationship to begin with.''

''You've got a lot of nerve, don't you,'' Evelyn hissed, suddenly closing the distance with a short stride, getting into her face. ''Drop the act, we both know what you're after. But you will lose. Listen to me carefully, when Chuck loses - so will you.''

Once again, they thought them to be someone else, a shadow of themselves. They thought them to be materialistic and greedy as they themselves were. They thought them to be selfish and phony. Nobody thought them to be in love.

''You're not even aware you're losing Chuck like this,'' Blair stared at his mother without blinking, willing her to see things in new light. Maybe things have a shot to be fixed, maybe it wasn't too late. ''You're losing him to this hatred. Not me - you.''

And then something happened that struck the late hour, that point when even most refined people let loose the animal in them. When even the most sophisticated, rational people succumb to their unrelenting frustrations and resort to the ways of the cruel brutality. Evelyn slapped Blair, staring at her with blazing fire.

Shocked by the sudden act of violence, Blair pressed her hand to her burning cheek, but had the good sense to refuse to buckle down. She was better than that. Brushing off the viciousness of the attack, she dropped her hands and held her head up high majestically - challenging the seething woman, proving her how wrong she was, in so many different ways.

Evelyn's town car sped off in a smoke just as Chuck's limo pulled into the driveway. He got out of the vehicle, warily watching the disappearing car, catching the familiar license plate. Something quivered in him, a bad feeling stirring down the spine in a creeping scale. He hurried inside the building and up the elevator, finding Blair staring out the window.

It was such an odd sight to see her out of the shabby woolen coat, snow in her hair and cute blush on her smiling cheeks. He couldn't help but feel that coming back to Manhattan was a mistake. They had been here for only a couple of hours, and the trouble had arisen greatly.

''Mother stopped by?'' He inquired, watching her back carefully, loosing his red scarf and popping buttons of his black coat.

''Yes.'' Blair's voice sounded somehow distant, but she didn't turn around.

''Did she say something?'' He pressed on while simultaneously ordering brunch. There were no plates in the sink, she must be starving. Was she aware she could order the food by herself? What an idiot he was, he should have told her or written a note. He should have ordered the breakfast so it could have been waiting for her when she awoke.

Chuck Bass had been used to living alone and taking care only of himself, ever since he was a little boy. Things needed to change, he realized. He needed to make an effort in order to make things work. There was so much to learn.

Nevertheless, Chuck sensed trouble, sensed something was off with Blair. His doubts were confirmed the moment he set his hands on her tense shoulders.

She shook her head, adamantly staring out at the barren Central Park, clouded by mist and grayness. ''Nothing happened.''

But then Chuck turned her around and saw the damned red cheek, faint traces of a palm. Something in him snapped. It was as if a hand encircled his throat and he saw everything bad he tried to protect Blair from, inflicted by his own mother.

There it was, the clear sign of monstrosity his wife suffered - something that belonged on his cheek, not on her beautiful porcelain skin.

''Chuck,'' She choked out as he cursed under his breath, madly grabbing his sleeve as he turned around to go. ''Please, don't-''

''It will only be worse if I don't go,'' He barked, pulling his hand away from her grip, stubborn in resolving this. White flashing light of rage blinded him and he thought he could tear down the Olympus with his bare hands. ''This needs to be taken care of, now!''

''Chuck, please!'' She resorted to throwing herself at his chest and encircling his waist. ''Don't go!''

He exhaled loudly, trying to tame his fury, as she put her chin on his chest and looked up with teary eyes.

''Please stay.'' She whispered, her voice trembling. And it was that quiver in her voice, that fell like a blanket over his fire, simmering it down. ''I need you here. I'm tired, Chuck, I'm tired.''

And just so he'd spare her more tears, Chuck stayed.

Because he knew there were dozens of reasons more to cry, one of them being the lawsuit his father filed against Blair's. It was something he could spare her of, for now.

''Evelyn?'' Diana glanced warily at his phone, subtly taking a desperate sip of the wine.

Bart rolled his eyes, turning off the phone promptly. ''She keeps calling me which means she knows Chuck is back in town.''

Jazz music filled the prestigious bar of the Millennium hotel as they chatted over their pricey bottle of Domaine de la Romanée-Conti. It was one of those casual Thursday nights when chandeliers on the ceiling reflected against expensive jewelry and black mink fur coats. Perfume hung in the air, laden with intrigue. The mentioned pair enjoyed each other's company, good looks, and mutual ambition. They fashioned themselves young and crazy, free to indulge in hedonistic pleasures while they thought nobody was watching.

They were wrong.

''I really don't feel like listening to how awful of a parent I am right now.'' He said all of a sudden with such sobriety that was so unlike him, Diana stifled a gasp.

Did he care, she questioned herself cautiously while looking at his downcast eyes. Did he care after all?

''Interesting,'' She spoke out loud, twirling the crystal glass in her hand. ''She seems to be coming to you quite often. If I didn't know her, I'd have said she doesn't have a husband. As if her life is consisting of nothing but Chuck's problems and you.''

''Interesting.'' She repeated once again, quieter this time, watching the shift on Bart's face - just the right effect she wanted her words to produce. It went from wondering, to doubtful, to somber.

''Well, of course,'' S velvety voice said from behind them and two heads snapped back. ''It was obvious where he'd be, especially since he refuses to answer his phone.''

''Welcome.'' Diana didn't even bother to look at her, forcing up her lips into her poorest society smile. ''We were just talking about you, Evelyn.''

Evelyn flinched at those bold words, spoken with precision to inject poison. She shook her head and turned to her ex-husband. ''Bart, can I have a moment with you? Alone?''

''Evelyn.'' He sighed in obvious annoyance, but not dared to meet her eyes. Instead, he focused them on the alluring luster of Diana's green orbs encircled with heavy black make-up. ''Honestly, I've had it for today.''

''What is that supposed to mean?''

''Your son,'' He spewed, heavily enunciating the first word, as if she alone was responsible for the existence of the boy. As if she alone raised him and was to blame for his erratic behavior. ''Your son barged into an important meeting I had this morning. He made quite a ruckus. I won't let his mother ruin the night for me too.''

Bart spoke with such astounding coldness and abuse that Evelyn froze for a solid while. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Diana hide a smile behind her hand.

''How dare you talk to me like that?'' She had the dignity to ask, clutching her Chanel bag tightly in front of herself.

''Evelyn, go back to your husband,'' This time Bart looked at her and it was such a look of ill-manner, inflicting nothing but anguish. How could she ever have loved him? ''Spend your energy on him, don't waste it on those who don't care. Go back to your own life.''

It was the early morning after her encounter with Bart, on her way to see doctor Lockwood, when Evelyn finally had a chance to see her boy - after endless weeks of absence.

''Charles!'' She had called him out with such love, such desperation - he couldn't stop strings of her heart from moving. ''My son!''

''Mother,'' He put his hands on her shoulders as she tried to hug him, effectively stopping her. It'd been a while since they last met each other. Whatever instinctive feeling of love he felt for Evelyn, it was promptly choked. His mother would never do what this woman did to Blair, to the girl he loved. ''Let's keep a distance.''

''She told on me, didn't she?'' Her beautiful face immediately fell and turned into a grotesque of a sheer despair. ''Charles, I didn't do anything. Well, nothing serious at least. I just - she intentionally said a great many things that hurt me - and - and I just lost control of myself-''

''Save it.'' He demanded, cutting her short, not bothering to hear the meaningless excuses. There was no excuse for that savage violence.

''Please,'' Evelyn's lower lip trembled, and she tried to take his hand, but he avoided it. ''Don't look at me like that. It pains me to see it.''

''I don't deserve your anger,'' She stated proudly, her lips curving into a sorrowful frown.

''True.'' Chuck murmured, looking at her with such daring heartache that woman nearly cowered under it. ''You were never in my life long enough, Father even less so, to deserve my anger.''

His mother gaped in disbelief, eyebrows raising up to a hairline. ''Yet that girl, that lying two-faced girl that made you suffer, she has a right to be in your life?''

''Why are you taking it out on Blair so much?'' Chuck clutched his fists in frustration, clenching his jaw. ''Because of me? Because of what Father did? Because of what we went through with him?''

''What?'' Evelyn stammered, hand flying at her throat. ''What are you talking about?''

''Why did you really hit her?'' He grit through his teeth, digging up the mental memory box and taking out every shadowed thought his family shared - one by one. ''Because you couldn't strike Father? Or me? You're angry with me because I won't give up on Blair. You're angry with Bart because that man gave up on both of us a long, long time ago. But you can't touch us. It would mean admitting defeat.''

''You don't know what defeat means,'' She whispered as her eyes pooled with tears. ''But you will, soon enough. Life will teach you. Blair, she will defeat you.''

''It has happened before,'' Her son turned his back to her, his face cast in shadow. ''I already asked you to bury the axe. I'm not going to again.''

He lingered, as if hesitating. ''I love her, Mother. I really do.''

Arthur closed the limo doors after his master got in, tightening his leather gloves for it was unbearably cold in the city that day. The dry, tasteless frost clung to exposed skin, sinking in it's teeth. The dark limo rushed through the streets, stealthily avoiding morning traffic. Arthur knew his master had snuck out to catch Mrs. Evelyn before her regular botox appointment every Friday at 7 am.

He knew master would want to be back to Miss Blair before she awoke. Nevertheless, the driver, so gifted with the accurate observance of an impartial party, was much aware that Miss Blair would most certainly be up before the master's return. The girl was nothing of the Manhattan sort, yet she had every air of prestige and resourcefulness.

He had arrived precisely at half past 7. Elevator doors dinged upon reaching the floor and Chuck stepped in, only to find Blair dressed in her old clothes. Everything he had ordered his stylist to buy for her was still left untouched in the shopping bags by the doors. In her hands were tightly grasped wedding papers and pictures. He recognized his smiling face that hid behind her thumb.

''What's going on?'' He asked, alerted at her too calm appearance. Had she found out he went out to meet Evelyn?

''I'm going home.'' She steadily replied, though he noticed how clutch on the papers tightened, fingers curling until they turned pale. Chuck took a step forward, for a strange reason his heart hammering.

''What do you mean?''

''I don't need a PI to gather information,'' She shook her head. Her eyes, so wide, were filled with anxiety. She had found out. ''You thought we could hide out here forever? You thought the world would stop just for us? That we would lounge around the penthouse without having a care in the world? I loved spending time with you here yesterday, but there is a storm outside of these doors and it's waiting just for us.''

''Blair, I wanted to tell you-''

''I know,'' She cut him short, eyes softening. ''And I thank you for that. I really do, Chuck. I know you try, I know you're risking your relationship with your father to drop the charges. I know you've been paying my father's hospital bills. See, I have birds too. They whisper things to me. I know how to be invisible and go through the crowd undetected. I've been invisible my whole life.''

''I didn't want you to have to choose,'' He whispered, his eyebrows knotting dolefully. Because he knew she would have chosen her sick father, suddenly struck with heart-attack some day ago before they came back. She would willingly go back into the pits of fire to care for the ones she loves. Because that was Blair, the warrior, and the angel - all in one, never giving up. That was his wife.

''And I love you for it,'' Blair's lower lip trembled, as she stared back deeply into his eyes. ''But it worked. Though in secret - you helped. My family may never find out, but I know and I'll never forget what you did. My father got better thanks to you. He had asked for me, my dad is giving me a chance to make things right. And now you have to understand, I'm doing this for us. If I ever want us to be a family, this is the first step to take.''

''Alright,'' He nodded, putting his hand on her forearm. How glad was he to hear her talk about them as a family. He always wanted to a part of one. Chuck smiled, showing all the support and love she needed right now. ''If you're ready, so am I.''

''No.'' She calmly said. Seconds ticked by as the silence elongated and the trepidation increased. ''I need to go alone.''

The silence returned, heavy and suffocating. He stared at her and she stared back, craving for courage to leave with each breath. At the back of their mind, snow fell soundlessly on the untouched white ground. Fire crackled, spreading the dingy smell of smoke and cinnamon.

''Aren't we going to tell them we got married?'' He asked.

''Not for some time yet,'' Blair smiled tenderly and he felt the sharp pain of her words, of her expression and the way she gazed at him. As if they would never see each other again. ''You know what the doctor's report said. No stress or strain on his mentality of any kind. I can't tell them that and risk my dad's life.''

He was the source of that stress, he thought to himself. He was the actual problem.

''You're going back home,'' He repeated, looking down on the floor in turmoil, trying to grasp the information. Pictures in his mind suddenly changed, images shuffling and crumbling. He had thought they would live together, start their life as a family. He had thought they would keep low for a while before announcing their union to the whole world. He didn't care what his parents, the world or anyone might think. But, it appears, he hadn't counted on her family. Now, everything changed. His spirit sunk low. ''They won't know we're married. Everything will be like it was.''

''It won't!'' She denied passionately, throwing her arms around his neck. Their eyes locked, something sentimental passing between sheer black and chocolate brown. ''Isn't it enough that we know? It's just for now,'' She comforted, pressing her heated lips to his. ''I promise.''

''Okay'' He breathed out, surrendering under the intense power of her kiss, of the feel of her body pressing against his. ''I know you've already made up your mind, but I'm yielding under one condition only.''

''What is it?''

''I'll be moving back into my apartment, in your building. I'm coming with you.''

Diana hummed a song under her breath as she walked into her home, settling forest green Birkin bag on the antique high table in the foyer. Things with Bart were going exceptionally well, she thought smugly. Though there seemed to be a concern he was still attached to his former family, Diana managed to disperse any doubt of it with that beautiful fiasco last night.

Until she recognized voices in the living room. Evelyn stepped out on the hall, Georgina following her close behind. Bart's ex-wife smiled in such fashion that Diana's heart stopped and dropped somewhere in the end of her guts. It was finest predatory smiled. In that moment, Diana Sparks realized something.

It was a dire mistake crossing Evelyn.

''You've been sleeping with my dad's partner.'' Georgina spat at Diana accusingly when they were left alone, every particle of her skin seething with rage. It was not a question. ''I've been asking you again and again what did you have with that man and each time you lied to me! It's barely been a few months since my dad died! What kind of a woman are you?''

''Georgina!'' Diana cried out in shock as her step-daughter pushed her roughly, forcing her to stumble in her tight dress and high-heels, nearly falling on the floor. ''Listen to me-''

''You killed my dad!'' She screamed, tears streaming down her blotchy, red spotted face. ''You've killed him again! You've killed every memory of him!''

''Georgie!'' The woman begged once more, thinking for the first time that perhaps it had been a bad idea to slip the girl vitamins rather than her prescribed pills. The girl was insane, completely and utterly unstable. Diana was struck with fear for her life. ''Calm down, that woman was talking nonsense-''

''Nonsense?!'' Georgina angrily shoved her step-mother once again, cornering her in the wall. ''Evelyn just told me what everyone else already knows. She wanted to help me. Nonsense? You whoring around is nonsense! Take off that necklace!'' She demoniacally spat, pulling the precious Cartier piece of jewelry from Diana's neck. ''My dad bought you that necklace and I'll be damned if you wear it again! He bought you this too! And this too you got with his money!''

The girl savagely tore off every diamond, every ruby, every sapphire the woman wore. Diana cowered under the assault, staring with gaping mouth, stunned by the final act of vengeance. Her hair was disheveled, her clothes torn, but her make-up remained completely intact, not a tear, or anything of the kind, had been shed to ruin it.

''You got everything thanks to his money!'' Georgina screamed, flinging the expensive items on the floor where they crashed into perfect little sparkles. ''But he is gone! He isn't ever coming back! And I'm supposed to sit back and watch yourself whore around with Bart Bass, spending my inheritance?''

The girl, heaving heavy breaths, suddenly dropped her voice to a threating level. Her eyes, like two death stars, glared - looking to kill. ''Get out. Get out of my home!''

With that, she grabbed Diana's arm, startling the tried nerves of the appalled woman and viciously dragged her. Diana stumbled in her high heels, tripping over the jewelry on the floor, too caught up in act of getting caught. Without taking her coat, bag or anything of the kind for it was freezing outside, Georgina threw the woman out of the apartment, slamming the doors on her shocked face.