Chloe Bourgeois-Dumont, for lack of better words, crumbling apart. Champagne and wine glasses became filled closer and closer to the brim, nights spent longer in bed with the light on, waiting for her husband to finish so she could finally try to go to sleep; days spent sitting on her balcony as she watched life below her continue on.

That's just that though. That silly word. Try. She could try many things. Anything she wanted in fact, anything in the world.

Chloe could hardly remember the day when statements like that rang true through her head twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Days when all she had to worry about was seeing her best friend Adrien Agreste, finding new ways to torment Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and wondering what type of Coffee Sabrina was going to bring her in the morning.

Adrien and Marinette were now married; Chloe had even heard rumors that she was pregnant with a child. Adrien had opened a bakery, and even taught piano lessons to little kids in the park on the piano that had magically gotten there all those years ago during an Akuma attack and hasn't left since. It's a miracle it still works as well as it does quite honestly.

As for Marinette, she was an international fashion designer. If people had thought that Gabriel Agreste was the biggest designer of the century they were most definitely wrong–had they been living under a rock for the last eleven years? In a matter of two years after her debut line (debuting at the young age of fifteen), she had shot Agreste Industries' top income from one line out of the roof. She was known everywhere, though she still stayed the kind, competitive Chloe had known during school.

Though that last statement could have been all but true, Chloe hadn't the slightest idea. She hadn't talked to either of them in seven years.

Sabrina…Sabrina started a real estate business. One that had quickly climbed to the top of the industry and covered quite a bit of Paris, even fanning out to the rest of France.

All of her former classmates seemed to have made it further in life than Chloe had. Even Kim– who went on to join the Olympics and bring back silver for France. A jock that had often been labeled as an idiot by Chloe in high school had gone to the Olympics.

At the age of seventeen Chloe had made an…awful mistake, one that still haunted her years later, and she was then told to save the family's respect within Paris, she must get married as soon as she turned eighteen. Audrey Bourgeois– her mother– had chosen her fiance of course, seeing as she couldn't trust her daughter to ever make the right decision.

Three months later she got married to Pierre Dumont, a twenty-two-year-old who was due to finish university and then take over his father's multimillion-dollar company. The said man was the reason why she was currently sitting at a table in the corner of a large room, dressed in a mahogany (Deep red-brown) low-cut dress, a small diamond stud covered string hanging down the small of her back as the fabric wrapped delicately across her hips. Her blonde hair was wrapped in a crown on her head, a white diamond pin pressed into the side as her head raised to take another sip from her champagne.

"This Gentleman, as I'm sure you know, is my wife," Pierre turned towards Chloe with a soft smile, a warning flashing through his eyes to act professional.

Ah, Chloe thought with certainty, standing to shake the small group of men's hands, New possible clients. "It's nice to meet you gentleman. My name's Chloe Dumont," Chloe had long since learned not to add her maiden name into the mix. It often confused people; her husband wasn't too fond of the choice for her to also keep her maiden name. But, at eighteen, it was the only thing she could control without her mother pitching in. So she kept it. "Nice to meet you, I hope my husband hasn't been boring you too much."

She wasn't joking, but the men seemed to take it as one, patting Pierre on the shoulder as they all laugh. Not one of the men would dare touch Chloe's bare shoulders, her pasty skin tempting, but not enough to risk it with her husband right in front of them.

Putting his hand on the small of her back, Chloe knew that it was a signal for her to excuse herself. She had been introduced, claimed in front of these men, now she may leave. "Excuse me, Gentleman, as much as I'd like to stay and chat, I have to get home to my daughter." Turning towards her husband she continued, "Honey? I hope it's okay with you. I only paid Bianca enough for five hours. I could of course call her to tell her I'll be later if you'd like?" That was a lie. Bianca, her daughter's au pair, lived in the mansion with them, watching over her daughter as basically a nanny.

"No," Pierre kissed the top of her head, looking down at her. "It's quite alright, Mi Amor, you can go home now. I'll probably be in late so don't wait up okay?" Chloe nodded, smiling towards her husband and nodding at the gentleman who all nodded back in understanding. They were all the age to know how important it was to get home to their children, all of them who had already grown up and moved out of their houses.

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow. I love you, honey."

"Love you too."

Those were also lies.

Chloe stood in the doorway of her eight-year-old daughter's room, watching the black-haired beauty sleep. She was going to a private academy on the edge of Paris that specialized in the arts. Angelica, her daughter, had always had a knack for art and loved doing it.

Angelica loved to make music and artwork that left people in awe, or really just changed them after they saw it. She was so small, innocent, almost nine years old now. Even at eight, she was more than her mother has ever been.

"Ma'am? Are you okay?" Bianca asked, placing her hand on Chloe's bare shoulder. Her afro was pulled back in a bun and glittery makeup was covering her face. Chloe cracked a small smile at the sight.

"Yes, I am. Are you, Bianca?" Chloe motioned to her own face, circling it, "You have a little something th– well everywhere."

Biana laughed softly, rubbing the back of her neck; Chloe immediately remembered that that was something Adrien used to always do. The air rushed out of her chest, pain exploding in her heart as she continued to smile at the twenty-two-year-old au pair. "Yeah, well although Angelica is good at art, it's safe to say she is not going to be a makeup artist anytime soon."

"No," Chloe laughed out, staring longingly at her daughter. "I don't think she will be," Angelica turned in her sleep, rubbing her eyes as she sat up, wincing at the light coming from the hallway outside of her room.

"Mama?" She said upon seeing her mother standing in the doorway. "I thought you were out with Dad?"

Chloe took a shaky breath and stepped outside of her heels, walking over to her daughter's bed and sitting next to her small frame. "Well love, I was out at a party with him, but then I decided to come home," She said with a smile.

"Oh…how come? Is Dad home too?" Angelica questioned, laying back down as Chloe tucked her back under the covers of her bed.

"No, he'll be home in time to have breakfast with you tomorrow before school though, don't worry," Chloe kissed Angelica's forehead and brushed some of her black hair back softly.

The eight-year-old closed her eyes at the comfort of her mother's thin fingers running through her hair. "Promise?" She yawned, grabbing onto the black cat stuffed animal sitting next to her. Chloe believed she had named it Lumiere.

"I promise, sleep now, I'll see you in the morning."

Angelica nodded, turning onto her side while still cuddling the black cat.

Chloe left the room and closed the door. As she walked to the other side of the house to the room she and Pierre shared, she spent the whole time hoping she hadn't just lied to her daughter.

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Please don't forget to show support for this story. Updates may be infrequent, but I do plan on finishing it. Please have in mind that I am a high school student involved in many extracurriculars. What do you think is going to happen next?