For the Sake of Appearances Pt. 01

Still, however much she annoyed me, I couldn't help but smirk because ultimately, I had won.

"Hello, Mrs Pemberton," she said with a flashy grin. "Surprised to see me?"

I had to swallow before I answered; I thought I'd seen the last of her and hadn't expected her to show up at our door ever again. "It's Lady Pemberton, actually, and yes, I am." I nodded behind her. "This is private property and you no longer have any business being here."

"That's no way for you to talk to your future daughter-in-law," she said while remaining rigidly in place on my doorstep. "I have every right to be here."

I scoffed at hearing that and had to blink a number of times. "Perhaps you didn't get the memo, young lady, I know your vocabulary is quite limited." I slowed my voice and pronounced each word with intent. "You and Pierce are over. He's finally seen sense."

"Actually," she said, while dipping the sunglasses and staring at me through her piercing blue eyes. "You didn't get the memo, I guess? We're engaged!" She waved her hand around, but there were so many rings all over her fingers, that it was hardly evidence of an engagement. She cocked her head and pouted. "Or maybe you did get the memo, and have forgotten it? Maybe you're getting confused in your old age? Should I have Pierce check you into the elderly residence?"

I gasped at the venom of her. "Leave at once," I said, exasperated and flustered by her cruel bile. "Just go away and leave me alone. I've had enough of your poison in our lives."

Zara's posture relaxed, and she rested a hand on her hip. "I'm not going anywhere. I will be marrying your son and there is not a thing you can do about it. The sooner you get on board, the easier this will be for you."

"You're delusional," I said with confidence. "I've shown him what you're really like and he's had enough."

Zara smirked, then she took her phone from her handbag and showed me a series of text messages. My heart sank as I read through them, and my shoulders sunk at the last one:

Pierce: it's okay baby she'll understand that you're the one for me, you're the love of my life

"This is a joke, right?" I asked while glancing up from her phone. Even as I saw the evidence right there before me, I still couldn't quite believe that my own son would be so stupid and capitulate to the bullshit spewing from this selfish wench. I looked around the large parking lot outside my residence, trying to find the hidden camera men. "This has to be a prank of some sort? Am I on television?"

Zara shrugged. "No joke at all. We'll be getting married within weeks. Everything has been arranged." With that, she slipped a hand into her bag and plucked out an envelope. "Here's your invitation," she said with a patronising smile. "Pierce wasn't sure whether you'd want to come, but I reassured him you were his mom and it was only right we invite you, just like a nice daughter-in-law." She grinned. "See, I really am nice, aren't I?"

My lip was trembling as I tore open the letter and read through the fancy lettering. My eyes were wide and I looked up at her astonished. "How can you afford all of this? I'm not paying for this."

"Actually, you've already paid for the deposits. That credit card you gave Pierce came in really handy. Thanks for that." She then clutched her hands to her chest, popped one heel up and fluttered her eyelashes. "You're such a loving mother. I can't wait for when we're finally married, if you're already this generous."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" My breathing quickened and sweat tickled my back. "You enjoy gloating and rubbing it in my face?"

Zara smirked, and she held her manicured fingers to her full lips as she giggled. "Well, yes, but also"--the girl's expression suddenly vanished and her face became a lot more serious--"I'm here for more, well, productive reasons. We need to come to some kind of understanding, because I'm fed up of this happening again and again. You keep causing me problems and it needs to stop. I knew as soon as you found out about the wedding that you were going to become a thorn in my side again, so I'm getting it out there right now so we can sort this out. I'm marrying your son and there's nothing you can do to stop it. You already tried to get rid of me, and you failed, so, let's come to an understanding right now."

I stared at her in silence for a moment, considering the things I could do to stop this charade going ahead. "That's why you're here? For pragmatic reasons?"

She nodded. "Yeah...that's why I'm here."

"Well," I scratched my chin. "You know I'm never going to approve of this."

She rolled her eyes. "You've made that clear, and if you want me to battle you over it: let's go, grandma. I'm younger and have way more energy."

I scowled. "And I have way more resources."

"How much did that stupid photographer cost you?" She grinned. "Fat lot of good that did you, didn't it? If you want to waste some more money on trying to stop me, go right ahead." She gestured up and down the length of her body. "See everything I'm wearing, right here? Bought and paid for by your son since you thought you'd got rid of me."

I sighed, and after a deep breath, I folded my arms. "You're really not going to make this easy, are you?"

"Nope. So, you better get used to me."

I shook my head. "What sort of understanding are we talking about? You want to be paid off or something? How much are we talking? I can write you a cheque right now."

Zara held a hand to her chest and looked mortally offended. "Really, you think that's what it'll take? How rude." She clutched her hands again as if was about to belt out a ballad. "I'm, like, so you in love with your son and all."

I leant against the doorframe and pouted. "Don't pretend like you're not in this for the money. I've dealt with your sort my whole life."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "If you stopped being so rude and invited me inside, then we could discuss this properly." She cocked her head. "Seems your hospitality still hasn't improved from the first time I was here. Remember? You made me feel really unwelcome and started this whole"--she arrogantly flicked her fingers towards me--"monster-in-law act or whatever it is you're doing. All of this anger between us is because of you!"

"You honestly think I'm the bad guy in all of this?" I grit my teeth at the delusional front of her. I wasn't used to someone talking to me in the way she was. It was like she believed her words as fact and considered everything else irrelevant.

Zara bit her lip and merely nodded, before raising a palm in a shrug.

"God," I said. "Let's get this over with."

As we entered the living area, Zara was taking excited glances around all of our vintage furniture and extravagant ornaments once again. "I forgot how much I love your home," she said with a smile, showing off the polished set of veneers she'd had done since dating my son. I was about to accidentally smile at the compliment, when she added, "I can't wait until the day we move in here."

I balked at that travesty of an assumption. Just the thought of having to share my home with this ghastly excuse of a girl left me with a bitter taste in my mouth. I wanted her out of our lives completely. It was bad enough that she'd snivelled her way back in, but the suggestion that she was going to marry my son made me queasy. The thought of her moving in almost led me to vomit. "What makes you think you'll ever be living here?"

Zara squinted at me as if I'd asked a ridiculous question. "Well, Pierce is your only son, right?" She stared at me as if waiting for me to fill in the blanks, then, she slowly, almost patronisingly, dipped her head and looked at me through her arched eyebrows. "He'll be inheriting this one day, yeah?" She turned her head to the side as my forehead wrinkled. "And, since I'll be his wife, it'll be mine too, won't it?" She looked me up and down, then animatedly sniggered. "You're hardly a spring chicken, are you? I'll give you, what, twenty years at most and this place will be ours?"

"I..." I couldn't even think of something to say in response, such was the gall of her entitlement. It was as if she couldn't even be bothered to hide her greed anymore. Now she'd reeled my son back in, despite her obvious betrayal, it was as if she was completely emboldened that she could do whatever she wanted. As if every selfish thought floating around her head needed to be aired. I mean, why wouldn't she after the pathetic way Pierce had welcomed her back? She'd blatantly cheated on my son and now they were engaged! "I..."

Zara ignored my stuttering, and instead she walked over and tapped a couple of the keys on our grand piano. "I'll be completely honest with you," she said while running her finger along the curves of its body. "Ever since I've been with your son, I've developed quite a taste for the expensive life." She picked up a decorative egg from a nearby cabinet and tossed it up a few inches, causing me to lurch forward with arms outstretched. Didn't she know how much that bloody thing cost, ignorant girl? Once she caught it, she looked over at me and leered, "There's no way I'm letting you screw that up for me now." She placed it back on its stand with little regard for the delicate and intricate nature of its design. I in turn, stepped forth to cradle and ensure it was set securely.

Zara had already stridden over to another shelf of ornaments, while I, hearing her becoming so brazen about her relentless, acquisitive intent, felt compelled to put her in her place. "Actually, darling, you screwed that up for yourself by being a rotten cheat."

Zara raised an eyebrow. "It's not my fault your son isn't physically attractive and I have needs." She then looked me up and down and arrogantly snarled with a curled lip. "I guess he takes after you in that department."

My jaw dropped at the rudeness of such an insult, but then I felt a burning in my chest at the reality of her words. Yes, I'd seen better days. My face was more wrinkled than it used to be and my hips a little larger, but I was a middle-aged woman by now. I was hardly still in my twenties, was I? I'd birthed a son, for Christ's sake. I didn't swan around between salons and spas like this vapid airhead. I was about to respond in as cutting a manner as I could, but Zara arrogantly waved my retort away before it had even come to fruition.

"I get it," she said with nonchalant sneer. "You think you're the matriarch or whatever." She took a step towards me and wiggled her shoulders mockingly. "That you rule the roost. There's a pecking order or whatever. Well, guess what? I don't care about any of that and things are going to be changing around here." She puckered her lips and rolled her eyes at an antique globe, before spinning it with a finger. "This place needs new life in it."

I blinked while watching Zara turn and slowly edge towards me. Her steps were determined and considered, as if a predator steering its pray into a corner. "What...what are you talking about?" I asked. "This is my home, not yours. Even if you marry my son, nothing will change. You're not getting your greedy mitts into me the same way you have my son."

Zara sighed as she came in close. We were about the same height, but due to the way she stood and carried herself, it was almost as if it boosted her a few inches over me. "I've tried everything with you, Miranda. I've tried to be nice, I've tried to be decent and respectful."

I snorted. "It's Lady Pemberton, to you, young lady. Besides, when have you ever tried to be nice and respectful? That first hello when I met you? After that, you were nothing but arrogant and aloof. Your eyes almost had dollar signs in as you looked around my home."

My words fell on deaf ears as she continued in her rehearsed spiel, "I've tried to be civil and even pretend that I love your son and I'm not simply marrying him for his money, but you throw everything back in my face. You've dedicated your whole existence to causing problems for me, and I'm not giving up on this life I deserve." She glanced at her diamond-encrusted watch. "I've invested a lot of time and effort into your son, so, you're just going to have to deal with it." She stepped away from me finally and ran a finger along the fireplace. "I'm younger, I'm more beautiful, I'm the candy on your son's arm, and"--her grin was so vicious that it was on the verge of being evil--"one day, I'll be the matriarch of this house, while you're clinging on for every crumb you can get."

I scoffed and almost doubled over at the absurdity of the rubbish she was saying. Zara? This spoiled and immature bitch, thought she was capable of running a family such as ours? She wasn't even capable of running a bloody bath! There was prestige associated with our family name, and everything was about appearances, knowing the right people and how to act accordingly. Zara, stumbling around in her glitzy high heels and sparkling trinkets reeked of young money. Frankly, the way she postured about and flaunted the wealth she'd stolen from my son was embarrassing and a travesty against our class. There was no way I was letting her even fly under the stewardship of our family name, never mind represent it. Perhaps I couldn't stop her from marrying Pierce if he was dopey enough to go along with it, but I certainly could stop her from infiltrating the privileges our family name would afford her.

"I want you to leave my house at once." I pointed forcefully through the foyer and towards the front door. "You're not welcome and I don't want you here one minute longer. Pierce will see sense before this farce of a wedding takes place, I'm sure of it and I'll be ready to welcome him back with open arms. Please leave, right now."

Zara glanced towards the front door, then she turned to me with a bland, unimpressed expression. She adjusted her luxury handbag on her shoulder, then tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. Her head dipped, before she looked up at me in thought while taking a step towards me. Meanwhile, I stood there unsure what was about to happen; her quiet demeanour catching me off guard in comparison to her usual boisterous and loud personality. A tiny smirk emerged on her ruby lips, just before she said, "What if I do this instead?"

Zara's arm suddenly moved in a blur, and my whole body rippled before I could comprehend what had just happened; my left cheek lighting up on fire. I stood, motionless, in shock, a buzz vibrating from my skin as I watched Zara fold her arms across her inflated bust and languidly stand there in place. My fingers caressed my stinging cheek and it took me a few seconds to process what had just happened; had this little scamp actually just slapped me? There was a smirk settled on her face, and she seemed to be waiting patiently for me to react.

I continued to stare at her while rubbing the pain from my cheek. My bottom lip trembled after being so brutally smacked in such a way. What were usually clear and concise thoughts had been rattled, and I felt lost and out of place in my own home. Zara turned her head and eyed me curiously, her mouth parting slightly in anticipation of what was to come; the expected retaliation no doubt.

However, amidst confusion and a desire to escape such a hostile predicament, I turned towards a dresser, and began shuffling through that day's mail awkwardly, as if the slap hadn't even occurred. While Zara watched me curiously, I buried my face in the letters as a tremble ran down my spine and my cheek flushed over. The pain was resonating through my face, though there was a greater, intense throbbing burning my skin; bore from utter shame and humiliation. Zara had brazenly slapped me in my own home and I was doing absolutely nothing about it. She'd basically slapped the words of defiance straight out of my mouth. She'd slapped out my justification and reasoning. She'd slapped away my confidence and composure. She'd slapped me into complete silence and turned me to a dithering wreck.

"What are you doing?" she asked, breaking the awkward silence that had taken over since that fateful meeting of her palm and my cheek. She shuffled closer and stood with her arms folded, an amused sneer visible.

I glanced sideways at her, then returned my attention to the letters as if they were the most important thing in the world and needed sorting at that moment. "I'm checking the mail," I answered, in barely a whisper, my voice struggling to not collapse under the weight of my nervous energy. I wanted her to pretend this hadn't happened, just as I was doing, then to leave me alone.

However, Zara reached over towards my face, causing me to immediately flinch and hide behind the letters, braced for another slap to sting my already sore skin. She eased her hand beyond my attempted barrier, and grasped my chin with her fingers. While I closed my eyes and wanted to disappear, Zara slowly turned my face from side to side, looking at each of my cheeks with interest.

"Wow," she said, while reaching out with her other hand and lightly stroking my enflamed cheek. Despite my attempts to wriggle free, she held me in place, and caressed my cheek as she wished. "It's so red already. I really caught you good, huh?"

My eyes remained firmly closed, burning in shame. I'd never been one for physical confrontation, so Zara's abrupt assault had disrupted my usual measured composure. She continued to stroke and poke at my face, turning it without resistance so that she could take in every inch. "Open your eyes," she said, and after a moment of hesitancy from me, she lightly squeezed my chin and placed the palm of her other hand flat against my cheek. "I said open your eyes." When I still kept them closed, her fingers dug slightly into my chin and her usual, piercing shriek followed, "NOW."

That was enough to jolt me into opening my eyes, and I found myself looking straight into Zara's grinning face. Her eyes then narrowed, almost inquisitively. "Are you really not going to do anything after I just slapped you?" After a brief silence, where I still couldn't fathom a single word, she added, "Do you still want me to leave your house?"

I struggled to maintain eye contact with her, and, even though I wanted her gone more than anything, I was too scared to verbalise it. Her palm was pressed against the same cheek and it was a clear threat; if I asked her to leave then I'd be getting another slap. Still, despite my cowardice in speaking up, my pride wouldn't let me completely give in. As a result, I gave a sheepish nod of my head, void of any conviction.

My head rocked once more as Zara harshly slapped me again, this time while staring me straight in the face. There was a smirk plastered all over her youthful features, seemingly both baffled and pleased that she could freely assault me in this way without any resistance. She took a step back, and while I remained morosely flustered and caressed my cheek, Zara seemed to seize on my confusion. Her eyes scornfully glared, and they dropped from my own towards my chest, lasered and focused on their target. "And what if I say no, flappy tits? What do you have to say about that?"

A stabbing pain shot through me, which hurt even more so than my stinging cheek. I looked down at my breasts, housed decently in my favourite blouse, astonished. I was a mother and I'd breastfed Pierce in his young age. Of course, my breasts weren't going to be perky. However, I'd never had someone insult their shape straight to my face, especially a girl far younger and in the height of her youth. It just wasn't a fair comparison, was it? "W-w-what did you call me?" I asked in a hesitant, tentative voice barely above a whisper.

"Flappy tits," Zara said again while cupping her own nicely-shaped breasts. "I mean, look at that pair of cow udders hanging off you, and you have the face to tell me I look out of place here? You should be ashamed of yourself. You should wear a smock and cover yourself up." She raised her palm again, causing me to recoil on instinct, which only brought an amused giggle from her.