Chapter 8 – Game On
Lila's POV:
God, I hate her.
Sitting there with that fake little princess posture, pretending she's unbothered.
Like she didn't just see the photos of Adrien and me standing under golden chandeliers, side by side, like we belonged.
And let's be honest, we does belong there. In that world of class, cameras, and connections.
And her? She belongs behind a sewing machine. Doodling in the margins of a textbook. Playing house in some cramped little bakery apartment with flour on her face and no future in sight.
And yet she had the audacity to smile.
Not even a real one. That tight lipped, trying-not-to-choke-on-my-own-insecurity kind of smile.
As if she didn't just feel her whole world shake under her feet.
I watched her. I watched everything.
Her fingers went still for a second. Her shoulders stiffened just slightly. Her eyes flicked toward Adrien's photo for a fraction too long.
And then she looked away, pretending like it didn't gut her.
Nice try.
You can fake it all you want, bitch.
I felt that hit.
I live for that hit.
I didn't say anything cruel. I didn't have to.
I just dropped the right names, played the part of the grateful model, talked about how Adrien was 'so sweet' and how I was 'so tired and weak'
I didn't even looked at her when I said he helped me.
I don't need to.
Because I knew she's listening. She'll listen to anything and everything that concerns Adrien.
She's probably still chewing on every word.
Trying to act like she's fine.
But I know.
She's spiraling inside that little overthinking brain of hers.
My heels cost more than her entire closet.
My dress was from the runway she'll never set foot on.
And when Adrien helped me walk through that ballroom even though it was because of his father's instructions.
But nobody cares about the truth.They all care whether it's interesting or not.
Every camera that turned towards us, made us look like a fucking power couple.
And Marinette will never be at the center. Not where I'm aiming.
Adrien is a prize, yeah but he's also a key.
The key. To status. To power. To everything I fucking deserve.
And right now? Marinette's standing in my way like a frizzy-haired, giggly little roadblock.
Acting like she's gotten a claim over him.
Like she means something.
Like she's not just a temporary distraction that I'll wipe off the board when I'm good and ready.
And the way she tensed up when I showed that photo.
She probably wanted to throw the whole damn juice box in my face.
God, I wish she threw that juice or made a scene.
I would've cried. Made a scene.
Turned her friends against her.
But nope.
She held it in. She stayed polite.
Which means she's not just insecure, she's scared.
Scared to react. Scared to lose him.
Scared that if she says the wrong thing, he'll start to notice what a clingy, desperate little mess she actually is.
And she's right.
He would.
Guys like Adrien don't stay with girls like her.
She's all sunshine and freckles but I'm class. I'm poise. I'm Lila Rossi
And when I want something, I get it.
Gabriel Agreste might've told me 'Remove all the distractions from my son's path'. But I'm not doing this for him anymore.
This is about me. About her.
I want her gone.
I want to take everything she thinks is hers and grind it beneath my heel.
I want her friends to start side-eyeing her, doubting her, whispering behind her back.
I want her to lose their trust, bit by bit, until there's no one left.
I want her to snap, to break down in front of everyone, to cry and scream and beg like the pathetic little thing she is.
And then?
I'll be standing right there on the top. Watching. Smiling.
Maybe I'll even offer her a tissue.
Or better, a back-row seat at my wedding with Adrien.
In a dress custom-made by someone who actually matters in fashion.
With Alya as my bridesmaid, maybe. Or not. She's a bit much.
Chloe's a good choice. Even though she's a dumb brat, she has the Money and Power.
Marinette?
She can watch from the back.
No cameras. No spotlight.
No Adrien.
Just me. Winning.
People think I'm lying when I say I've lived through worse.
Like I haven't clawed my way through every fake smile, every lie, every plan.
This isn't some childish little rivalry.
This is warfare.
And I don't play fair.
I win.
She thinks being Adrien's girlfriend makes her safe?
That it means something?
No, sweetheart.
It means the countdown's started.
Enjoy it while it lasts.
Because every second that passes is one closer to me taking it all.
So yeah, Game on, bitch.
Let's see how long you last.