Chapter Text
Tears welled in her eyes, an unusual vulnerability creeping in as frustration surged. In a fit of rage, she hurled her phone across her room. It hit the wall with a shattering crash, the pieces scattering like her broken ambitions. There was no plot to weave now, no counterattack to devise—Marinette’s words wrapped around her like a suffocating shroud, drowning out her thoughts.
“How dare she speak to me that way?” She bites her lower lip, her eyes red from the multiple times she has cried today. First Sabrina leaves, her father, and the one thing she thought she had was power over the people. Over that pig tailed girl who speaks to her like she was nothing.
“You’ve lost any power over us,” Marinette continued, her voice gaining strength. “You’re the one who’s ridiculous, Chloe. Utterly ridiculous. Enjoy your trip.”
She was acutely aware of the disdainful glances cast her way by her classmates, each scornful sneer serving as a sharp reminder of her profound sense of isolation. It felt as though an invisible barrier separated her from the laughter and chatter that filled the classroom, amplifying her loneliness.
Adrien, who had once been a wellspring of joy and companionship in her life, had transformed in her mind into a poignant symbol of her defeat. She had hoped that, having grown up side by side, he would possess a deeper understanding of her struggles and emotions. Instead, his indifference stung more than any taunt, leaving her to grapple with the painful reality that the bonds they had once shared seemed to have dissolved under the weight of their peers’ judgment. Chloe stared into the mirror, her reflection revealing a girl at war with her emotions. Tears glistened on her cheeks, remnants of a heartfelt breakdown just moments ago.
In three short hours, she would be boarding a plane to New York, yet the crying girl looking back at her seemed a world away from being ready for such a journey. Her blonde hair hung in tangled disarray, a stark contrast to the typically vibrant hair she was proud of. The white tank top she wore was marked with smeared streaks of tear stains, and her body slumped against the bathroom counter, fatigue etched into her features.
The past few weeks had taken a toll on her. What had begun as her usual self had spiraled into something darker. She had made a reckless choice in aligning with Hawkmoth and Lila, seduced by the promise of having any power she desired granted. Her naivety stung; she had been so easily lured by the idea of a clean slate, a chance to reset her life and show the people she wasn’t just some dumb blonde.
Chloe had yearned for redemption, desperate to shed the mean girl persona that had clung to her for so long. Despite her inner desire to change, she found herself trapped in a cycle of biting insults, flinging them at anyone unfortunate enough to cross her path. It was a defense mechanism, a wall built around her heart to shield it from the real pain she carried. It had little to do with the people she targeted; it was a reflection of the turmoil festering within the very hotel room her fractured family had reluctantly called home.
As the clock ticked, getting ready for the trip felt overwhelming. Chloe rifled through her closet, finally selecting a crisp new white top that felt like a fresh start, and layered it with an oversized yellow hoodie for a splash of brightness. She stared at her reflection as she applied her makeup, her hands trembling slightly, betraying the emotional chaos swirling inside her. Despite it all, she managed to paint a flawless façade.
The task of packing was equally daunting; her entire wardrobe felt too vast to fit into the two luggage bags resting open on her bed. She exhaled a heavy sigh, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. “It doesn’t matter,” she muttered to herself, trying to quell the anxiety bubbling within. “I’ll be back soon enough, anyway.” A flicker of optimism crossed her face as she secured her hair into her signature high ponytail, the routine grounding her. “There’s no way Father will leave me in my mother’s care after all this time. He’ll miss me,” she added, a small smile breaking through the veil of sadness as she envisioned the moments ahead. She heads down to the lobby with her butler Jean dragging two heavy luggage's behind her.
Chloe stood quietly, her gaze fixed on the familiar figure of her half-sister, Zoe, across the room. Although she had expected to see her there—after all, their father had been relentless in his attempts to foster some semblance of a relationship between them—Chloe couldn’t shake the bitterness that surged within her. Their father often emphasized that “blood runs thicker than water,” but to Chloe, Zoe was nothing more than a pest, a leech who absorbed all the attention and affection that Chloe so desperately craved. Each time she caught sight of her father's proud smile as he praised Zoe’s latest accomplishments, Chloe felt a fresh wave of resentment wash over her.
Unbeknownst to her family, Chloe grappled with feelings of inadequacy, often berating herself for what she perceived to be a complete lack of talent. If there was a skill that defined her, it was her knack for shopping—an ironic talent that did little to elevate her self-esteem. Her academic performance mirrored her lack of direction; her grades were consistently among the lowest in class, a sharp contrast to the effortlessly high marks achieved by Adrien and Felix. From a young age, her parents threw her into various extracurriculars—piano, violin, English, mathematics, and dancing—each time hoping she might discover a passion or a hidden gift. Yet despite their efforts, Chloe felt like a mere shadow compared to her exceptional peers.
Felix, in particular, often made her feel small; his ability to solve complex college-level math problems or articulate advanced vocabulary with robotic precision seemed almost inhuman. She longed for the simplicity of childhood, reminiscing about carefree days spent devouring ice cream or playing hide and seek in the sprawling expanse of the Argeste family mansion. Chloe’s world was irrevocably shattered when her mother left, a departure that Chloe internalized as a reflection of her own perceived failures. It gnawed at her for years, a relentless whisper that told her she wasn’t bright enough, not impressive enough to retain her mother’s love. With her mother’s return, Chloe felt a renewed urgency to prove herself, desperate to show that she was more than just a disappointment.
But in her quest for validation, she inadvertently transformed into someone she barely recognized, lashing out at those around her without a second thought. The only connection she and her mother seemed to share was their knack for fashion or being arrogant, a superficial bond that did little to mend the deep-seated divide between them. As Chloe navigated this new dynamic, she remained blissfully unaware of just how deeply her actions were hurting the people in her life, blinded by her ambition to regain her mother’s approval and somehow reclaim the love she feared she had lost forever.
“Ugh, what are you wearing?” Her mother’s voice dripped with disdain as she scrutinized Chloe. Dressed in a striking half-white, half-black designer jumpsuit, her mother accessorized with gleaming gold jewelry that caught the light with every movement. The chic Prada sunglasses perched on her nose obscured her gaze and her usual flamboyant wide-brimmed sun hat.
“It’s comfort clothes,” Chloe replied, twirling a lock of her hair absently while meeting her mother’s piercing glare. The lenses of the sunglasses made it nearly impossible to decipher her mother’s emotions, leaving Chloe feeling exposed under the critical scrutiny.
“They look hideous on you; do you even realize there are reporters waiting outside?” Her mother continued, fingers flicking through her phone impatiently. “I can only imagine the questions they have after the disaster you caused today.”
Chloe narrowed her eyes defiantly, a surge of irritation bubbling inside her. “You mean the disaster we both caused, Mother. You were just as involved in it as I was.” She tilted her head slightly, challenging her mother to acknowledge the shared responsibility.
“Darling, what on earth is Chloe talking about?” Her father interjected, his eyes wide with confusion as he looked between them. “I thought you said you were taken hostage when Chloe was akumatized.”
“Can’t you see that this is just another one of her manipulative schemes?!” Audrey exploded, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and disbelief. “After everything she has put you through—the pain, the drama that has torn this family apart—she’s still trying to worm her way in!” Her eyes flickered with a fiery intensity as she spoke, directed solely at Chloe.
“How ridiculous! How dare you lie to me!” Chloe shot back, her blood boiling as she took determined steps toward her mother, her voice rising in defiance.
“That's enough!” Andre’s voice thundered through the room, the raw power of his anger making it clear that he had reached his breaking point. His glare was fierce, focusing on both Audrey and Chloe as if he were shielded in his own storm of frustration. “I don’t want to hear another word from either of you!” His face was flushed, a stark crimson that spoke of the hurt and frustration simmering deep inside him. Chloe had never witnessed her father this furious; even Zoe, who was quietly observing from the corner, looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes.
“Darling, must you shout?” Audrey said softly, a hand reaching up to rub her temple as if to soothe the headache from the escalating tension in the air.
“Yes, I must!” Andre replied, his tone sharp as he pointed an accusatory finger at her. “Because you continue to behave like a child instead of acting like a mother!” The accusation hung heavily between them. “You left me to care for Chloe all on my own while you chased after your career ambitions. You abandoned this family at a time when I was still learning how to be a father.” His voice wavered, a mix of hurt and fury evident as he recalled the memories that haunted him.
“Darling, we’ve talked about this before,” Audrey interjected, her voice now softer, as though she was trying to soothe a wound that did not want to heal. “I had my reasons—”
“Not good enough,” he shot back, his gaze icy, as if he were stripping her bare with his eyes. “Your reasons are nothing but excuses for your absence. You left when we needed you most, and now that you’ve returned, what do we have? Things only seem to have gotten worse.” The heartbreak in his voice was palpable, resonating in the charged atmosphere that surrounded them all.
“This is why I must stay with you, Dad! Why do I have to go with my mother?” Chloe cried out, her voice cracking with desperation and frustration.
Her father’s expression hardened, revealing a deep disappointment. “Because, Chloe, you’ve crossed a line that can’t be uncrossed. I don’t even recognize who you are anymore.” His voice was heavy with pain as he continued. “You betrayed me. You hurt your sister and her friends. You’ve caused so much harm to innocent people, and I’m not even the Mayor anymore.” He let out a weary sigh, shaking his head as if to dispel the gravity of his words. “I cannot give you what you want, and I cannot save you from yourself.”
“Dad?” Chloe felt a lump form in her throat, an aching sensation that threatened to spill over into tears. She willed herself to stay strong, refusing to show any sign of vulnerability in the moment.
“Goodbye, Chloe,” he said quietly, turning away with a heavy heart, ignoring her mother’s frantic protests and shouts. His back was to her, a finality that weighed heavily in the air.
Zoe glanced at her for just a fleeting moment. There was no hint of the concerned sister who had once rushed to her side; instead, she offered only a cold farewell before trailing after their father into the elevator, leaving Chloe feeling more isolated than ever.
As the reality of that day descended upon her like a thick fog, everything began to blur into chaos. The scene outside exploded with flashing lights from cameras and the shouts of reporters eager for a story. Citizens crowded around, some pushing against the barricades, their faces twisted with anger and disdain. They shouted insults and hurled various objects in her direction, a mix of jeers and mocking laughter that filled the air.
Chloe squared her shoulders, determined to stand her ground. She shouted back, throwing insults at anyone who dared to encroach upon her personal space or fire relentless questions her way. But the crowd was no longer intimidated; they retaliated with their own jeers, a volatile exchange that only amplified her isolation.
Through the haze of chaos, a familiar figure emerged from the crowd, a sly smile playing on her lips. It was the Italian girl with the sickly green olive eyes—an unsettling presence that sent a chill down Chloe’s spine. When their eyes locked, the girl's smile widened, reinforcing the realization that had tortured Chloe's mind: she had never been a partner in this plan; rather, she had become merely a puppet in a game far beyond her understanding. With that chilling thought, Chloe’s heart sank as she confronted the truth—she was the one who had become ridiculous, ensnared in a web of manipulation she had not seen coming.