For the Sake of Appearances Pt. 01

As if to goad me further, her toes had still gripped the cup's handle as I poured the tea. Despite trying to concentrate and keep steady, her rude behaviour had rattled me, my hands shaking with both nervousness and annoyance, and unfortunately, a single droplet of tea spilled.

"Owww," Zara had suddenly yelped, before rapidly pulling her legs from the table. "She burned me," she had said accusingly while making a show of clutching her foot. "Did to you see that? She deliberately poured tea on me."

Pierce had already reached over and checked her foot with concern. "Are you hurt?"

"It was an accident," I had scoffed while looking at Pierce aghast. "I didn't do that on purpose."

"We should be going," Zara had said while scooping up her handbag. "This was a mistake."

"Already? But you haven't long arrived."

Zara had practically scowled in my direction. "And you've made me feel unwelcome the whole time." She turned her attention towards my son. "Your mother clearly has an issue with me, babe. Maybe it's because I'm not like one of the stuck-up cows she'd used to?"

Before I could utter a word in my defence, Zara had already stomped her way through the foyer and out the front door.

"You know that's not what happened, don't you, dear?" I had said hopefully towards my son.

"I know, mother," he had said with a sigh. "I'll talk to her, alright?"

"She seems a handful," I had replied while caressing his arm. "Pierce, do you really think she's the right sort--"

"PIERCE!" had come a screech from outside. "I want to go right now."

My son's usually wide shoulders sunk, and he had numbly leant forwards and given me a hug. "I'll call you, mother, alright? I'll smooth things over and we'll try again."

I tongued my teeth and had known that I couldn't let things end like that. "Can we meet without her? We really need to talk--"

"PIERCE!"

And with that, my son had scampered off to the demand of that wretched girl.

I didn't see my son for the next few weeks after that day. Whenever I managed to catch him on the phone, I'd hear Zara complaining in the background, huffs and tuts followed by whines of her demanding he hang up. Gradually, the phone calls descended to mere seconds until eventually he didn't answer the calls at all. Sometimes, my text would be responded to in a way that I knew wasn't him; clearly, Zara had access to his phone and would read everything I was sending him. As a result, I reduced my criticism of her and instead simply pleaded to meet with him and talk things through.

It was during this desperate time that I had managed to find all of Zara's social media accounts, and the barrage of expensive shopping sprees and lunches tugged at me. While I was being ignored by my own son, and all at the direction of that awful girl, he was out wining and dining her, lavishing the family fortune on her and treating her to a pampered lifestyle. I wondered why he didn't feel bad with the way that he was treating his own mother. Obviously, I knew it was all because of her, but I never truly realised just how spineless my son could be. He was choosing that awful girl over me, the woman who had been there through his whole life.

By chance, I had bumped into them both at the fresh foods market. Their trolley was filled to the brim with expensive, organic food, which I knew Pierce was going to be paying for.

"Would you like to come over next week?" I had asked, while flashing a forced smile at them both.

"I suppose if it was early in the week--"

"We don't have time," Zara had said. "We have things to do." She had slipped her arm through his and pulled him close. "We need to get ready for our vacation, don't we, babe?"

Pierce had furrowed his brow. "A couple of hours won't hurt."

"I said we don't have time," Zara had spat, and I noted Pierce's tall, strong stature sagged slightly.

"I'm sorry, mother," he had said. "We're heading away for the weekend. Zara has found a lovely cottage out in the countryside and we're going for a romantic break."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah," Zara had said with a gleam in her eye. "It's going to be lush. I've booked up a few sessions at a spa. Lots of pampering and spoiling." She had reached over and squeezed Pierce's hand. "Pierce is planning to get some work done while I'm relaxing, aren't you, babe?"

"Yes," he had said, almost robotically. "Zara needs some time to get away."

I had looked between the two of them in astonishment. "Get away from what?" I turned my attention directly towards her. "Do you even have a job?"

A roll of her eyes came in response, followed by her palm being abruptly held up in my face. "Talk to the hand because the face doesn't want to hear it," she had said, leaving me stood there both confused and baffled by her bizarre street-like talk.

As they had walked off, I overheard Zara's grating, nasally voice peppering my son's ear. "I'm really getting fed up of your mom," she had said. "She's always interfering and sticking her nose in. Did you see the way she was looking at me? The sooner we cut her off, the better. Stupid cow."

I had stood there, paralysed in shock in the aisle. I didn't know what I found more astonishing, the fact that Zara felt comfortable saying such awful things about me within earshot, or the devastating reality that my own son simply followed her without rebuttal.

Months later, while relaxing in the coffee shop, I took another sip of my cappuccino, savouring the exquisite flavour and breathing in the aromatic spices that the barista had so expertly prepared for me. This was the greatest coffee I'd ever tasted, perhaps due to what lay ahead; could foresight actually improve the sensitivity of one's tongue? My plan had reached its fruition, and by this afternoon, when the oblivious couple returned from their trip, I was sure we'd be rid of this truly awful opportunist.

You see, for the past months, ever since Zara had come into our lives, I'd been dealing with the reality that my son had been brainwashed. There was no other way of describing the situation he was trapped in. Things had only got worse since those initial encounters I shared with Zara. Somehow, he'd become entangled with that girl who clearly didn't care about him at all. She was only interested in one thing: our wealth. It was pretty obvious from the way that she constantly hid photos of them together on social media, instead painting herself as some kind of independent socialite. To all of her followers she appeared like the self-made success story, travelling around various countries, leading a life of leisure and flaunting her defined figure in designer brands. The only problem was this whole charade was being bankrolled by my son, who in turn, was being bankrolled by me! Sure, he had his own job, but his credit card was always paid off via my account. It wasn't such a problem when it was his own expenses, but I'd noticed from the bills that he was frequently visiting stores he'd previously never be seen dead in.

On the occasions I'd managed to catch him alone at his job, I'd had countless conversations with him, attempting to bring him out of the fog so he could see things for what they really were: a complete farce. However, my dear son was unmistakeably blinded by looks, enmeshed in what he considered to be true love, but in reality, was toxicity. He'd look around awkwardly while we spoke, as if he was convinced that Zara was nearby and ready to pounce. That if he said a single bad word about her, that somehow, she would know and appear, ready to berate him with a lethal tongue-lashing.

Of course, it didn't help my situation that this girl, Zara del le Fonte, was absolutely gorgeous. I'd known it from the initial photos of her, and meeting her in person had only confirmed that she was an exquisite beauty. Though, beyond her appearance there wasn't much else going on and once she opened her mouth, all expectations of a classy girl disappeared. There were no talents other than manipulating my son, no ambitions other than leaching off my family. She claimed to come from some prestigious family of her own and the splendour of her name totally fit the bill, that was until you realised it was a fabrication: selected entirely for social media appearances. Her real name, Zara Jones, which I'd uncovered via some poll record snooping, was far less impressive. Every aspect of the glamorous life that she enjoyed had zilch to her do with her family; her mother being a cleaner and her father on disability. Her accent was common and didn't at all match the decadent bloodline she claimed to come from.

So, it was thankful, that while stalking Zara's social media, I discovered that they were now back from their recent extravagant trip around Europe. Not only that, but the ridiculous girl had felt that she needed a pampering session at a spa to unwind from the stresses of all the travelling. That's exactly how she phrased it in the story she shared on her profile. Unwinding after my exhausting vacation, the caption read. The absolute gall of her. I liked my travels abroad, but even I didn't possess that level of arrogance. Utter dross! The only saving grace was that it was posted minutes earlier, which meant, she was busy spending Pierce's money while he was at work. Finally, a chance to get him completely alone!

As expected, when I crept into his office, Pierce appeared evasive and unwilling to talk. "Mother, I have work to get on with," he said. "Can we do this another time?"

"No, we can't," I said defiantly. "She's always around and I'm fed up of her turning you against me. She's busy right now, and I wanted to talk while I have you alone."

Pierce sighed, and he reached for the phone on his desk. He began dialling a number, "Mother, I have clients I need to--"

I pushed down on the button and ended the call. "I have something I need to show you, dear." I dropped a file onto his desk and spread the contents all over its surface. "Look," I said, while pointing at one photograph in particular. "Take a look at what your beloved fiancée has been up to."

"Mom, do we really need to go through this all again?" Pierce asked while he rolled his eyes. "You don't like her, I get it, but, please." He gestured his arms around erratically over the pile of papers I'd spread over the table. "Stop with all of this. Zara is right, you're out to destroy our relationship. Why can't you just let us be happy?"

"Dear, would you please just take a look?" I urged, while sliding the pile closer towards him. "There's something you really need to see this time."

"I've seen all of this before, mother. It's just your wild imagination and I'm tired of it. You need to accept I've made my decision. I'm dating Zara and I've had enough of your interfering."

I took a seat opposite, grabbed his hands and looked at him in the eyes pleadingly. "Pierce, you're my little boy. Please, listen to me. This is important." I nodded at the photograph on top of the papers. "I had someone following her. She's been meeting another man."

Pierce was in the midst of rolling his eyes once more when he paused upon capturing sight of the photograph. He plucked it from the pile and squinted while holding it aloft. He then tutted and shook his head. "That's her personal trainer, mother," he said. "They meet twice a week for her sessions."

It was my turn to roll my eyes. "And I suppose you're the one that pays for that, right?"

He wriggled his hand free from mine and placed it flat on his desk. "Enough of this. We're happy. If you can't be happy for us, then maybe it's better we lead separate lives."

"And what about this one?" I said, unperturbed by his hostility. I plucked another photograph from the pile and slid it between his hands. "What kind of personal training session does this come under?" I tapped the glossy print with my fingernail, right where Zara was clearly kissing her apparent personal trainer. "Exercising her lips, is it?"

Pierce was in the middle of rolling his eyes again, when he paused, hunkered down, and grasped the photo. He squinted while seeming to analyse every inch of the evidence, before finally, he looked up at me in confusion. "Mother, what is this?"

I sat back in the chair and crossed my arms. "It's proof that she's been lying to you this whole time, dear. She's a rotten cheat, and she's been making a fool of you this whole time." I leant forward and tapped the photo more ferociously. "She's turned you against me, and this whole time, she's been up to no good behind your back."

"This must be edited or something?" He looked at me hopefully, but I merely separated the pile and arranged the series of photos together. Their make-out session had lasted for a good quarter hour, and my detective had earned his money by documenting every obscene embrace.

"She's been using you, dear," I said with a sigh. "Think about it. You pay for everything. Does she ever post photos of the two of you?"

He shook his head.

"Because she only wants our money! She's a rotten gold-digger, son. I've been trying to protect you this whole time."

"I've...I've been so foolish." A tear came to his eye; I reached over and wiped his cheek with my thumb. "Mother, what should I do?"

For the next hour, I listened to my son interrogate that gold-digging skank on the phone, and couldn't help but smugly grin at my work. Whenever I'd see his spine waning, on the verge of giving in to whatever lie she was brewing up, I'd reach over, squeeze his shoulder and show my support. Gradually, her whines shifted from denial, to pleading, to catty and spiteful insults.

"This is your mom's doing, isn't it?" she snarled through the phone.

"This is your doing," Pierce said in response, and my heart swelled with pride. "You have no one to blame but yourself. I gave you everything, and you've betrayed me this whole time. We're over."

"No, we're not," Zara said back with force. "I do not accept. You can't just break up with me if I don't want to, Pierce. That's not how a relationship works. It's between two adults, not adult and child, and unless both of us agree, then it's not happening."

"I...ummm..." Pierce gulped, and it was at this point that I snatched the phone from him.

"Your relationship with my son is over, young lady," I said, keeping my voice muted and firm. "End of discussion. You've had your cake and eaten it, but the plate is now empty. He's finally seen through your act."

"I knew it!" She screeched, ringing my ear in the process. "I knew you were behind this, you jealous cow. Pierce, get back on the phone, right now."

I looked towards my son and rolled my eyes as he listened. "See, there you go, demonstrating what a classy girl she is."

"You think this is funny? You wait," Zara threatened. "You think you're better than me, but you just wait. You haven't seen the last of--"

I clicked the phone off, sat back in my chair and finally felt relief. I'd been trying to open his eyes and get rid of her for months, but she'd always find a way of weaselling out of it and keeping her claws latched onto him. At first, upon the detective's discovery, I'd even arranged to meet him for lunch in the same restaurant that I knew Zara was meeting the personal trainer at, figuring that seeing her cheating for himself would be enough. However, she must have noticed us as she swiftly disappeared before he caught sight of her.

Not that any of those past failures at exposing her mattered anymore, because now she'd been caught red-handed and the private investigator had been a worthy investment. It was clear that she was only dating my son because of our family's wealth. I knew it, Zara definitely knew it and finally: Pierce knew it. We could all move on and go our separate ways. There was surely a lovely girl waiting just around the corner for my son.

Things settled down after that, and though Pierce was obviously upset by the betrayal, I was happy to see that he was finally free of that gold-digging skank. He was hurting and an emotional wreck, but over time, he'd appreciate what I'd done for him and he could put his energy into finding another partner, someone who came from a good family and had honourable intentions. A girl that would love and support him, bring the very best out of him and with which he could build a lasting family together. I wanted him to continue the legacy of our family name, not burn it to the ground with someone like Zara tarnishing everything we'd built.

Despite the benefits to my son's life, I was also pleased with myself for finally finding a way to conquer and banish Zara. She'd been so close to getting her claws into my son for good, and it was a relief to have made him see the light barely a month before another extravagant vacation that she'd planned. Make no mistake, she'd gone all out with the extras, pushing the total cost into many thousands. Some of the expenses we had already lost through un-refundable deposits, however, I didn't care by this point, I was just thankful to be rid of her. I even suggested that Pierce should just go ahead and take the trip on his own, which he considered but ultimately wasn't in the right frame of mind after everything he'd been through.

Zara's social media had been decidedly quiet, ever since the break-up. I still checked it on occasion, just to see if she was up to another scheme or if she'd latched on to some other poor unfortunate. If she had, I didn't know whether I'd feel sorry for the poor guy or relieved that she'd finally moved on from Pierce. In some ways, it would have been a dream come true to see her married off to some gullible idiot.

A month or so after the big break-up, I was relaxing in the living space, enjoying a quiet book and a cup of tea. The preceding months had been so lonely and anxiety-fuelled, every day a worry about what Zara was putting my son through. So, with her well and truly out of the equation, it was a relaxing affair to actually sit down and read a book for once. It was still morning, and I'd already ploughed through fifteen chapters when there was a knock on the door, likely the mailman bringing me my next book to get through.

When I opened the door, I was surprised to see Zara waiting outside. She was dressed in some designer clothes I didn't recognise from her social media, a figure-hugging mini dress along with a pair of expensive sandals. Her nails, on both feet and hands, were decorated with a French style, which I found odd; was she paying for her own pampering these days or had she really found some other fool to fund her vices? Both her fingers and toes were adorned with multiple expensive golden rings. Her long, curly dark hair was smooth and sheen-like, probably as a result of a recent visit to a salon. Her pretty blue eyes were hidden behind a pair of stylish sunglasses. Dangling from her wrist was a beautiful chic handbag, just above an absurdly expensive, diamond-encrusted wristwatch. Even I could admit, that if I didn't know the truth, I'd suspect that she was some sort of rich celebrity.

While I looked her up and down, and Zara smiled back at me, my jaw-dropped that she actually had the audacity to turn up at my place after everything that had happened. For a moment, our last conversation made my spine tingle: why was she even here?

I grimaced at all of the new money she was showing off. Girls like her, who had never grown up with wealth, simply didn't know that it was in poor taste to buy all of these flashy trinkets and known brands. It so obviously came off as a new thing for her, but I suppose it's particularly nice being able to show off when you haven't paid for any of it yourself. They'd been separated almost two months by this point, so it was a surprise to see that Zara was still so well kept. Perhaps she really had found a replacement in that short amount of time, she was an adept parasite after all. She wasn't the classy girl that Pierce deserved, but rather the wealth-hungry succubus that would move amongst sugar daddies about to roll over and croak.