Wanna learn how to believe again
Find the innocence in me again
Chloé blinked herself awake and slowly sat up. She glanced around and realized she was back in her bedroom. Something about that didn't seem right, so she played back her memories of the previous night. She met Nathanaël for dinner, but dinner never happened because he didn't have the guts to admit he still wanted to be with Marinette. She walked outside to tell him where he could shove his altruism, she slipped on some ice...
She lifted a hand to the back of her head, expecting stitches or at least a lump, but found nothing out of the ordinary. Odd. A fall like that should have left some evidence.
I wanna see Christmas through your eyes
I want everything to be the way it used to be
'Well, we can agree on that, Gloria.' The way it used to be...Adrien at her side and Marinette in her place. Chloé snatched up her phone and turned off her alarm. She quickly replaced the song with a generic alert and laid back down in bed, ready to sleep in. But then again, Daddy might have some Christmas presents waiting for her in the lobby, and she was already awake due to someone setting her alarm for her. She clambered her way out of bed and walked over to her suitcase. She was a bit shocked to find her clothes from the previous day already washed and folded. Including the hollandaise stained clothes. Whoever had done it had also tucked them back into her suitcase exactly where she'd packed them. She shrugged. No big deal. Probably trying to earn their Christmas bonus.
She got dressed, did her makeup, and looked everywhere for the coat her father had gifted her, but couldn't find it. She did, however, find her first coat in her garment bag. The white coat that should have been thrown out. She looked on it with disgust, at first furious that someone would shove this disgusting and stained thing back in with her clean clothes, but upon turning it around, couldn't find the barest trace of hollandaise. Had the server girl gone out of her way to have it dry-cleaned? Chloé actually smiled. Maybe there was hope for that girl yet.
During the short stroll to the elevators, she contemplated how today would go. She'd already lost one day. She'd made some progress in 'befriending' Marinette, sure, but there was no telling whether or not Nathanaël had blabbed about her plans. If he had, Chloé's mission was ruined. She might as well book the next flight to Los Angeles and leave with her tail between her legs. But...something felt strange. The thought of ruining her chances at winning Adrien back bothered her, yes, but what bothered her more was...
Losing Marinette's friendship. She'd seemed so eager to just put the past behind them, to forgive years of cruelty. The sincerity in her voice, in her eyes. And how did Chloé decide to repay her forgiveness? By plotting to steal away her fiance.
...no. Marinette stole Adrien from her. This wasn't about friendship or forgiveness or free croissants. This was about Chloé getting what was hers and it didn't matter who stood in her way. It didn't matter–
"Oh my god is this the only song in the universe right now?"
That same instrumental of 'Christmas Through Your Eyes' played through the elevator speakers. It was official. That song was stalking her. She groaned, happy when the elevator doors opened and she sped out into the lobby, which seemed abnormally busy for Christmas Day. People checking in, bellhops carrying luggage, everything seemed eerily familiar. Déjà vu. She rounded the corner into the dining room and spotted her father sitting at the same table he'd sat at the previous day. The same half-interested look on his face.
"So good to see you doing well, Chloé." Even the same greeting.
"I'm doing as well as can be expected," she responded, taking her seat across from him.
"What happened, dearest?" Only the faintest hint of concern in his voice.
"I slipped on some ice last night and..." Images flashed through her mind. Blue surgical gowns. Light glinting off a scalpel. A clock steadily ticking its way closer to midnight. She lifted a hand to the back of her head. "I think I hit my head."
"That's odd, I'm sure M. Barbiche would have mentioned that after picking you up at the airport last night."
"M. Barbiche? He wasn't even with me last...wait." The airport? Last night? "No, I was at Chartier meeting a fri...meeting someone for dinner."
"Are you sure, Chloé?" André laced his fingers together and leaned across the table. "It was my understanding that you went to bed immediately after you got back to Paris."
"Well, yeah, but that was two days ago. I woke up yesterday morning, came down for breakfast–"
"S-sorry to interrupt, dearest." André turned his head and waved M. Barbiche over. They spoke in hushed tones while Chloé fumed and flicked at the silverware arranged on the table. 'What is going on? They think I'm crazy, Daddy doesn't even wish me a Merry Christmas, and he barely shows concern over me getting hurt last night. And that would have been a big deal. Someone would have had to carry me to my room. Set my alarm. Change me back into my Ladybug pajamas oh god whoever did that saw me naked.' Her eyes widened at the revelation just as André finished his conversation with the butler.
"M. Barbiche assures me that you didn't slip last night. Perhaps it happened before you got on the plane? In Los Angeles?"
"No, Daddy," she spat. "I slipped last night, around eight o'clock, outside Chartier."
André furrowed his brow at his daughter. "Chloé, what is today?"
Chloé sneered. "Uh, duh. Christmas Day."
André looked up to M. Barbiche then back to his daughter. "Chloé...today is Christmas Eve. Your plane came in last night." She opened her mouth to argue, but stopped when her father nodded to her left.
Chloé turned her head and spotted a television tuned to the news. Nadja Chamack was reporting on...well, whatever it was, it was irrelevant, because what drew Chloé's attention was a string of numbers in the lower corner of the screen. 24/12/22. December 24th. Christmas Eve.
But that was...impossible. She remembered yesterday so clearly. The free croissants. The Akuma. Paon being a total bitch. Lunch with Marinette and Adrien, the almost-dinner with Nathanaël. It all happened...hadn't it? Was it all a dream? An incredibly vivid dream?
That had to be it. Only in a dream would Marinette want to be friends with her. Only in a dream would one of Paris' heroes be that rude to her. Only in a dream would...would Nathanaël tolerate her presence for more than a few seconds.
"I...I guess it was a dream," Chloé mumbled. "Or maybe I'm getting my days crossed because of jet lag. Who knows?"
"Well, so long as you're alright, dearest." He must have seen something over Chloé's shoulder because his eyes brightened up. "Ah, breakfast is served! I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of ordering Eggs Benedict for you. I remember you mentioned craving the dish earlier this year."
'Okay, that's exactly what he said yeste...uh...in my dream. A...coincidence. It has to be a coincidence. It's all a dream.' She smelled the poached eggs approaching the table and her stomach turned. 'Ugh, I just wish that Christmas party last year was a dream.'
"Sorry, Daddy. But I'm meeting Adrien later this morning so I–"
As Chloé stood, her chair pushed backwards behind her. She heard the chair legs scuff on the hardwood floor, felt the chair pitch to her left with her legs, and felt something warm and wet spill down her back. Her shoulders hitched upwards, a look of shock on her face. She knew exactly what had happened even before she turned. The same server on her knees and staring up at Chloé in abject horror.
"I-I-I'm s-so sorry, Mlle. Bourgeois!" the server stuttered. "I'll have this cleaned up in a moment and I swear, I'll pay to have your coat dry-cleaned!"
Even as the hollandaise dripped down her back, Chloe found herself unable to move. Daddy's words, the hollandaise spill, then the same server, her exact same words. Coincidence. It had to be a coincidence...right?
"See..." Chloé muttered, somehow unable to summon the same fury she'd exhibited...yesterday? In her dream? What was true anymore? "See that you do."
"Oh, dearest, what an unfortunate accident." André rose from his chair and began to rest his arm across his daughter's shoulders, only to pull away at the sight of the sauce oozing across her collar. "I'll buy you a new coat at once. Call, uh, call it a Christmas present!"
An hour later, after a shower, Chloé stood dressed in her room with the coat her father had left her in her hands. Yellow with black lining and white fur around the collar. The same coat. Not a similar coat, but the exact same coat. She slipped it on and felt it sit across her shoulders just as she remembered.
"What is going on?" she asked no one.
There were only two explanations. Okay, make it three: Either Chloé's dreams had become prophetic, an Akuma was involved in this, or the stress and shock of Adrien choosing someone else had finally caught up to her and she was truly losing her mind. She could strike out the third possibility. She was stronger than that. If she could withstand the trauma of multiple Akuma attacks and Marinette's presence, she could withstand anything. Also, the second explanation didn't seem to hold weight. It had become generally accepted fact that Hawkmoth could only create one Akuma at a time and unless he'd become stronger in the last four years, Éboueur was his one Akuma. But that meant...
The growling of her stomach told her what she needed to do next. The bakery. Her croissants. If she could truly predict the future with her dreams, that meant Marinette would give her free croissants, invite her to lunch at La Belle Rouge, and arrive late due to Éboueur's attack.
A fifteen minute walk later, and the bell above the door to the Dupain-Cheng Boulangerie Patisserie jingled just as it had in Chloé's dream. Marinette straightened up from behind the counter and smiled. "Good morning! Welcome to the Dupain-Che...Chloé?"
'So far, so good.' "Good morning, Marinette. Three croissants, please?"
The same lag in her response. "Oh, yeah, sure!" She ducked behind the counter and came up with a small bag and a pair of tongs. "So, when did you get back in Paris?"
"Last night." 'Oh my god, this is actually happening! I can predict the future!' The rest of their conversation went exactly as Chloé dreamt, right down to the invitation to La Belle Rouge. She wandered out of the bakery, her free croissants in hand and a smirk on her face. Now, all she needed was to dream up some winning lottery numbers, sports scores, or perhaps even Adrien's wedding so she could see exactly how brutally she takes down Marinette.
She strolled through the park, eyeing the statue again, wondering if she would see Paris' heroes again. Éboueur came next in her dream, but getting covered in trash and breaking her phone wasn't exactly on her list of things to do today...
"'Scuse me, Mlle, can you spare a centimes for a hungry man?"
...so Chloé just ignored the beggar, kept walking, and continued munching on her croissants. If she didn't call him a 'garbage man' he wouldn't turn into a garbage villain. That easy.
"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Chloé flinched at the guttural roar and the subsequent screams of terror. She slowly turned and faced not an amalgamated monstrosity made of garbage but a much smaller man with pale skin, a white mask, and a suit that, if possible, was even more hideous than the garbage...thing he had become in Chloe's dream. Imagine, if you will, that you have entered a home improvement warehouse and meandered to the paint department. Now imagine that you have before you the expansive wall of little cards covered in color palettes and swatches. Now, take those colors, turn them into paintballs, and fire them at random at a wall, each color overlapping and blending with each other until they become a garish, clashing mess.
That would be an approximate description of the suit this Akuma wore.
"Ignore me, will you?" He threw out a hand and blasted a multi-colored beam that struck a few panicking civilians and...disintegrated them. Nothing remained. No ashes, no piles of clothes, nothing save for...their screams of terror? He blasted a car in the street and it also vanished, leaving a floating woman in a seated position. She swerved to the left and a street lamp in front of her buckled under some unseen force.
Unseen...
"Soon, no one will be able to ignore me because no one will see anything but me!"
Chloé ran. She ran, unconsciously taking the same route she had taken in her dream. But she was beginning to question the veracity of her precognitive vision. 'That shouldn't have happened. That shouldn't have happened. I didn't call him a garbage man this time, so he shouldn't have become an Akuma. Unless...he would have become an Akuma no matter what I did. But I changed it...that means...'
The Akuma (now called Desparaître) fired a beam that caught Chloé in the back and erased her from sight. She stopped running and glanced down at her hands. Still visible, to her at least, but saw them only in black and white. Desparaître cackled as he whirled around and blasted everything in sight until nothing was in sight. And just as in Chloé's dream, because some things never change, Chat Noir dropped from the rooftops and knocked the Akuma onto his back.
"Sorry, big guy, but you're reign of terror has been canceled due to unforeseen circumstances."
Volpina dropped to his side a second later. "That was bad even for you, Kitty Cat."
"I make no apologies."
"Hey guys!" Paon shouted from above. She landed between them and planted a fist on her hip. "What are we up against?"
Chat turned back to the Akuma. "He can turn anything he blasts invisible. You're powers are gonna come in super handy for keeping track of all the invisible stuff around us."
"Wow, I can already see this is gonna be a pain." She glanced around with the same green and blue aura she'd had around her eyes in Chloé's dream. What kind of power was she using? Could she actually see everything Desparaître had rendered invisible? "Car..tree...street light..." Her eyes widened as they centered on the invisible blonde. "Chloé?"
"Chloé Bourgeois?" Volpina gawked. "She's back in Paris?"
"And already causing trouble, I see." Paon crossed her arms.
"Uh, I'm invisible, not deaf," Chloé huffed.
"Hey!" came Ladybug's voice from behind Volpina and Chat. They all turned to spot her deflecting Desparaître's invisiblasts (Chloé cringed again. 'Why can't I stop with the puns?') with her yoyo. "You can socialize later. We've got a city to protect!"
Chat smirked and turned to his other teammates. "Best not to keep my Lady waiting."
Volpina and Chat both leapt into the fight with their weapons raised, but Paon wasn't so quick to join them. She pulled her fans from her belt and glared at Chloé. "Look, I don't know what you did to get this poor guy akumatized, and frankly, I don't care. Just do us a favor and try not to be a total Akuma-triggering brat tomorrow, alright? It's Christmas."
Chloé fumed. Paon. And she thought Chat Noir was obnoxious. That stupid bird was by far more annoying. Acting as though Chloé had personally wronged her. As though she knew Chloé from before she moved to America. Who was she? Hmm...red hair, teal eyes, couldn't stand Chloé's guts, and started out her superhero career as a timid lump desperate for validation. Why did that sound familiar?
...
...nope. Nothing.
(#)
As it would turn out, Akuma powers were so random and wide-ranging that the servers at La Belle Rouge had no issue with seating an invisible patron. Chloé absently stirred her coffee, letting her mind wander to her 'date' tonight, until Ladybug's Miraculous Cure descended on the city and set everything right. Should she still agree to the date with Nathanaël? In her dream, it seemed Adrien thought she might refuse if she knew who she was meeting. Maybe because they hated each other back in collège. Well, no. Chloé didn't hate Nathanaël, but she certainly wouldn't entertain the idea of a relationship with him, not when she could have Adrien. He was the one who should have hated her for getting him akumatized and for calling out his crush on Marinette.
But they were fine in the dream. They held a civil conversation, they smiled, and he even said he thought she had changed. That was...good, right? Yes. Yes, that was good. If anything, the encounter with the new Akuma taught her one thing: she could change the events in her dream. That meant she just needed to be more subtle with Nathanaël. Don't make an upfront offer to disrupt the wedding. Gain his trust, talk about their lycée days, then steer the conversation towards Marinette. Get him to divulge all her nasty little secrets under the guise of wanting to be her friend.
Marinette and Adrien arrived late, just as they had in her dream. Chloé gave Marinette the same brief handshake and Adrien the same hug, though a little more abbreviated. Marinette ordered the same meal and Adrien gave her the same cloying eskimo kiss. Chloé had to cough to cover up her groan is displeasure. Even though she seen the gesture already, it didn't make it any more tolerable.
"So good to see you, Chlo," Adrien said. "I'm glad you could make it. Did Marinette already apologize for getting the invite to you so late?"
"Yes, yes, everything's fine." She waved off his concerns. "She successfully bought me off with free croissants." Marinette giggled and Chloé scowled. "Which I still dropped." Adrien quirked his eyebrow just as Chloé realized her error. "I...n-never mind."
Other than that small hiccup, their conversation went much the same as in the dream. Marinette's admission that she wanted to be Chloé's friend. Idle chit chat over lunch accompanied by that same warmth in Chloé's chest. Her mind drifted back to the dream, what Nathanaël had said right before her abandoned her at Chartier.
'...happy for your best friend...Oh, I'm sorry. You're only friend...'
That wasn't true. Chloé had plenty of friends. She had Melissa, Adrien, Ladybug, and Marinette said she wanted to give friendship a chance. That was four. Shows what you know, you stupid tomato.
She paused with her coffee cup almost at her lips. Had...had she counted Marinette as a friend? She shook her head and took a sip of her coffee. No. Marinette wasn't...wasn't her friend. She was her enemy. Three. Three friends was fine. Except she had never really interacted with Ladybug outside of Akuma attacks, and they'd never exchanged numbers so they could talk while Chloé was in America. Two. People usually only have two good friends anyway, right? Except Melissa was little more than a roommate. They had casual conversations, bought each other ice cream and chocolate during their periods, ranted about bad dates, but did they really know each other? Small matter. Adrien was the only friend she neede–
'Oh, I'm sorry. You're only friend...'
...the damn tomato child was right. Adrien was her only friend. Is that why she wanted Marinette's friendship? Is that why she had enjoyed spending time with Nathanaël in the dream? Is that why some small part of her wanted to seek out and make amends with Sabri–
'No. Sabrina said she never wanted to see me again, and that's what she'll get.'
She set her coffee cup down with a little more force than she intended and some of the hot liquid splashed up on her hand where her thumb met her wrist. She recoiled with a small yelp and immediately clamped her free hand over thumb.
"Whoa, hey!" Marinette yanked her napkin from her lap and dipped it in her water glass. "You okay, Chloé?"
"Oh, y-yeah, I'm ffff–" she fought to keep a certain f-word she'd learned in America behind her teeth "–f-fine."
Marinette took her hand and dabbed the cool cloth over the burn. It felt better immediately, and Chloé found it strange that one: Marinette would be so quick to help her and two: she wasn't sickened or put off by the contact. It felt nice to have someone willing to drop everything and help her.
"Might want to put something on that when you get back to the hotel," Adrien recommended.
Chloé nodded as Marinette tied the napkin around her wrist. "Doesn't look like that big of a scald. Just keep cool water on it, aloe lotion and...this is gonna sound weird, but mustard works wonders on burns." Chloé jerked back and Marinette smiled. "Like I said, weird, but we see a lot of burns in the bakery, and Papa always keeps a bottle of cheap mustard handy."
Her nose turned up at the thought. Smearing condiments on her perfect skin? As if.
"So...this may not be the best time to ask, but," Marinette started. "Do you have any plans tonight?"
Oh, right. The 'blind' date. Chloé pretended to think about it then shook her head. Marinette then proceeded to fill her in on the details, but she wasn't paying attention. She already knew everything she needed to know: Chartier, eight o'clock, Nathanaël. What she focused on more was how she would gain his trust and his friendship, then use whatever he knew about Marinette to smear her name through the mud. And even if she couldn't do that, even if Nathanaël decided he didn't want to see her after their date, at least she'd have a...decent time. Nathanaël wasn't the worst company she could imagine for a date, so she might as well enjoy herself.
Even if it was for only one night.
(#)
She didn't even have to search through the dining room when she walked in, dressed just as she was in her dream. Dream-Chloé had good fashion sense. Her eyes locked onto his messy tomato mop the moment it came into view. He was flicking his straw again, unfocused and absently glancing around. When she approached him, he gave her the same shocked and disbelieving look he had in the dream.
"Uh, Ch...Chloé?"
"So you're the guy Marinette set me up with?"
He huffed and flashed a wan smile. "I, uh, I guess so."
Chloé slid into the chair opposite Nathanaël's and noticed something different. Now that she wasn't pondering why Marinette would think they'd be compatible, she could focus on Nathanaël. His hair was only slightly longer that it used to be, his shoulders more broad, his jaw more angled, completely clear of scruff or fuzz, and his smile, as forced as it was, still seemed to light up his face. He actually looked...kinda...handsome.
'...okay whoa. Where the hell did that thought come from? No, no, stop it Chloé! You are here to win Adrien back not fall for the stupid artist! Get your head together!'
"Chloé? Earth to Chloé!"
She shook her head and refocused. She was doing that a lot lately. What was it about being back in Paris that had made her so introspective?
"Sorry, just trying to figure out why Marinette would want to set us up."
Nathanaël shrugged. "Maybe she's like Rose. You know, a–"
"Romantic?" Chloé interrupted. She knew how this conversation would go. "And maybe, also like Rose, she has no sense of compatibility. Like how Rose swore Alix and Kim would get together, but Kim asked Max out in première."
"And Alix ended up–"
"Being ace?" they finished together. They were silent for a few seconds before they both began to laugh. For the life of her, she couldn't figure out why it was so easy to relax around him. So easy to just talk about their collège days. So easy to laugh and smile.
Their conversation carried through the server taking their drink orders. They sat with their menus propped open, yet their eyes were only on each other, so when the server returned, Chloé struggled to speed-read her menu.
"I'm sorry," she said to the server, her second apology of the night and it made Nathanaël's eyes widen. "I've never eaten here before so–"
"Wait, never?" Nathanaël interrupted. Chloé nodded. "Oh, I guess this is too 'commoner' for you, huh?"
Her nose bunched up. "Uh, excuse you." But her eyes betrayed her embarrassment and her face warmed.
"Just so you know," he smiled, "the duck confit is to die for."
She glanced down at the menu, then back up to Nathanaël. She folded up the menu and held it up to the server. "Duck confit it is."
"Whoa, what happened to your hand?" he pointed at the white bandage wound around her right wrist.
Chloé dropped her eyes to it and shrugged. "Some coffee splashed on my wrist when I met Marinette for lunch. No big."
Nathanaël tilted his head. "Uh, since when do you have lunch dates with Marinette?"
Chloe groaned. "Since she invited me to the wedding and insisted we put the past behind us. She actually wants to...be my friend."
"Would it be such a bad thing to be Marinette's friend?"
'Oh, yes it would, especially since she stole my future husband from me. But I can't let you know that.'
"I...guess not." Perfect segue in three...two...one... "I just don't know that much about her." Chloé grinned and leaned her elbows on the table. "What can you tell me about her?"
Nathanaël smiled and dove into story after story about Marinette. Even through dinner and a beautifully prepared duck that made Chloé's eyes roll back in her head, he continued to sing her praises. But that wasn't what Chloé wanted. She wanted embarrassing anecdotes. She wanted dirt. She wanted filthy little secrets that would make Adrien run back into her arms. But the worst she got was Marinette is stubborn, had a bit of a temper that makes her act hastily, and she hates liars. Nothing new.
But this was just one night. One date, one conversation. There would be plenty of times during the following week to grill Nathanaël for the juicy details. She just had to play along, pretend she was having a good time, and gain his trust. Then, maybe just before the wedding, reveal all to Adrien and leave poor Marinette alone and heartbroken. Oh, and if Marinette got akumatized, that would just be the icing on the cake. Watching Ladybug and her team pummel that stupid girl would cap off Chloe's plan beautifully.
"I have to admit," she said, dabbing her lips with her napkin. "That was...good."
"Oh, wow. Chloé Bourgeois singing the praises of commoner food."
"Shut up, you." She averted her eyes. "I've...developed a taste for less refined things since living in America."
"And eating at McDonald's? What's the world coming to?"
She tossed her napkin across the table at him, but he only laughed it off. Despite her foul temperament and displeasure at constant embarrassment, she found herself smiling with him, though the smile was accompanied by the internal mantra: 'It's all an act. It's all an act.'
"Any plans with your father tomorrow?"
Chloé shrugged. "Likely. Nothing concrete. Probably just dinner and a small gift exchange. What about you? Any Christmas plans?"
Nathanaël put on an uncomfortable smile. "Not that you ever bothered to ask back in lycée, but...I'm Jewish."
She blinked. "Oh, I'm...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume..."
"It's fine, it's fine." He held up a hand and smiled at her. "It's worth it to hear you apologize for the third time tonight."
"Is that so far out of character for me?"
"It kinda is. But in a good way."
How many more times would she blush tonight? And how was it so easy for him to make her blush? Yeah, she'd apologized for assuming he observed Christmas, but it wasn't because it was him. Melissa observed Kwanzaa and gave her a stern talking to when she just 'assumed' her religion. But...she'd still meant it. It wasn't just to earn his trust, she actually didn't mean to assume, didn't mean to hurt his feelings.
'...what is happening to me?'
"But if you must know, there's nothing too special going on tomorrow, but I will be having diner with Marinette's family."
"Do they typically invite Jews over for Christmas dinner?"
"No," he chuckled, "but for the past couple years, the Dupain-Chengs have had pretty big dinner parties at the Agreste Mansion. Since Adrien and Marinette got engaged, anyway. They usually end up making too much food, so they invite almost everyone from our old class. They uh..." He swished his water glass around, the ice clinked inside, and he took a small sip, but it did nothing to dispel the crimson aura on his cheeks. "They...that is, Marinette said, that if our date tonight went well, I could uh...invite you to dinner tomorrow?"
Chloé froze, her own hand on her water glass. "Are...are you asking me out? I thought you hated me."
"Back in lycée, yeah, but seeing you so eager to make amends with..." He shrugged. "Spending time with you tonight was..." He sighed and pushed his fingers through his hair, baring both of his eyes to the world. Both of his beautiful, bright teal eyes...dammit Chloé! "I'll admit. When I saw you were my date, I didn't have high hopes for my evening. But, it...hasn't been entirely terrible. And...I wouldn't mind spending more time with you."
A flutter in her heart. Her plan was coming together perfectly. Get on Nathanaël's good side, use what he knows to befriend Marinette, tear her away from Adrien, everyone goes home happy. Except for the man-thieving baker girl. Not like she deserves happiness anyway. Stealing the spotlight, stealing someone else's love, manipulating people, leaving Chloé all alone? Whoever would do such a thing didn't deserve happiness.
'Or is that flutter not because of your plan, but because of Natha–'
Chloé pushed the treacherous thought back down and pulled her phone from her purse. She flicked her fingers across the screen then handed it off to Nathanaël. "Here. Put your number in there. I'll call you if Daddy doesn't have something big up his sleeve." 'Though if this morning is any indicator, he likely doesn't. But if I have Nath's number? That means I control where our...'relationship' goes.'
(#)
Chloé tightened the bandages around her hand, already savoring the cooling effects of the aloe, then wrapped her fingers around her ivory hairbrush. She'd already changed into her second favorite pair of pajamas: an orange tank top and white bottoms dotted with fox faces, and with her brush gliding through her hair, she smiled into her vanity mirror and reflected on just how much of a success the day had been.
She hadn't pushed Nathanaël away like in her dream, she was that much closer to her objective, and perhaps if she found just the right dress, they wouldn't even have to change the wedding date.
"...no. Can't seem too eager to be with Adrien. You've waited seven years to get him back, Chloé. You can wait a few more until your wedding."
A tightness in her chest made her pause. Was...was she starting to feel guilty? Was she starting to regret her decision to ruin Marinette and Adrien's relationship? She shook her head and fixed her intense gaze on her reflection. No. It was just nerves because she still had much to do. Putting a stop to a marriage in less than a week was a tall order, but Chloé Bourgeois wasn't one to back down from a challenge. Her wicked smirk dominated her face and she slowly made her way to her bed. Her head found the familiar dimple in her pillows, her phone found her night stand, and slumber found her still with a smile upon her face.
She was excited for what tomorrow would bring.
When the bells of Notre Dame struck the midnight hour, a bright green wave of light washed across the entire city.