Chapter 7 The Luxurious Of Deceit

The leather beneath the chair in which Bernice sat was smooth and cool, much like the life one will slip into so easily. She eased back a bit, letting the soft hum of engines murmur with her mind as she let the world slide by her window, blurring into green, blue, and gray striations. Her reflection stared back at her, a woman in charge now, covered in the type of luxury she had never imagined. Now the mansion, the clothes, the jewels were hers. None of it could turn her mind away from the real reason that she married Rafael—revenge. And the smile stayed on her lips. It didn't waver as she sipped that champagne Rafael had poured for her, filled with admiration and maybe love in his eyes. Ironically, this man had everything: money, power, looks. And he was now totally at her mercy. He didn't know; he had become but a pawn in her game, the tool to punish those who wronged her. When it pulled up in front of the boutique, Bernice turned to find Rafael typing furiously on his phone—no doubt trying to sort out one of the many business hassles he needed to think about. "I'll be back in a minute," she told him, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "Take your time, my love," he replied with a smile. "You deserve everything." Bernice slipped out of the car while putting on her sunglasses. Her heels clicked against the pavement, echoing off the quiet morning air. It was one of Rome's elite boutiques—one of those you might have said once upon a time you could only have dreamed of entering. But not anymore. Now it was just another place on her list to go. The dress is meant for the ball party tonight, a new purse to match the shoes that Rafael gave her a few days ago, and maybe some jewelry just because she could. Inside, the saleswomen treated her with all the respect they would give to their wealthiest clients. They brought Bernice absolutely everything that was the best while she pretended to display bewilderment at the choices. It had all been part of the act. apart from them and Rafael's play to keep her blind to her real intentions. She acted the dumb wife, and the appreciative bride—all just to plot the downfalls of those who betrayed her. Ethan most especially. Bernice's stomach churned at just the thought that today would be the first day Ethan would start teaching her how to drive—a mix of satisfaction and disgust. He hated to do this—she could tell; his barely-checked temper beneath this smug, sincere politeness. But he had to. Because it had been his order from Rafael—the chopper had—so it was his order. The tables were turned, and she was now going to make him feel the way she had felt all that long month: powerless, humiliated, trapped. For another hour, Bernice was busy in the boutique, trying on dresses and playing a rich, indulged wife. Only the reality of it was that she didn't need more things. She needed action, and that was what today would bring. Filling up her arms with her purchases. She bid the store clerks goodbye and stepped back into the car where Rafael sat waiting, still ensnared in whatever crisis he was masterminding. “Hope you got all you want?”& He asked, his eyes flicking up to meet mine briefly. "Yes," I said, smiling sweetly. "Thank you for this card, Rafael. I really can't wait to wear all this tonight." He let out a smug smile, so pleased. "I'm glad you like it, Bernice. You deserve it." Bernice looked down the window and watched as they drove back to the mansion, her thoughts drifting to Ethan. She knew he'd be waiting for her with the keys of her new car in his hand, ready to play the part of the obedient nephew. The thought of it made her smile. She will survive the frustration that would be in his eyes as she didn't quite get the gears right; the anger boiling under the surface was palpable. This was all just too perfect. Finally, when they parked in front of the mansion, Rafael gave Bernice a quick peck on the lips before he reminded her not to stay out too late. She smiled and promised she wouldn't, still waving as he drove off to his meeting. As soon as he was out of sight, she whirled toward the waiting car, Ethan standing by the driver's side and doing a good job of not wearing any expression on his face. "Ready to learn how to drive, Mrs. Fernandez?" he asked, his voice clipped. Bernice beamed an answering smile at him, absolutely reveling in the fact that it was getting on his nerves that much. "Of course, Ethan. I've been waiting all day for this." He held the door open for her as stiff as a board. She slid in on her side, brushing up against him as they went. His jaw clenched. She bit back a smile. “Oh, this was so going to be worth it.” Just to be difficult, he leaned in even closer to her, and I mean close enough that she felt the heat of his body as he did it. "You're supposed to adjust the mirrors first," he stated in that condescending tone of his. "Oh, right," I said, pretending to fluster. "Thanks, Ethan. I forgot; I don't know what I'd do without you, helping me." He stood straight up, taking a step back as if he couldn't bear standing another second closer to her. "Put your foot on the brake and start the car." She did, and the engine roared to life. The sound was very thrilling, a potent reflection of how far she had traveled from the woman who had nothing, who had been betrayed by no one other than the very man sitting beside her now. "Now, slowly press the accelerator," he went on, his voice strained. She did so, and this time the car juddered into movement. Ethan unsustainably grabbed the handle of the door so he could hang on. "Careful," he bit out. His patience was beginning to wear thin. "Oops," Bernice said teasingly. "Sorry, guess I'm just a bit overexcited." You could virtually cut glass with that stare, but you just said nothing and directed me through the exercise with hydrogen statements. Bernice did it for the next two hours, driving unhurriedly around the estate, adoring the power she held over him. Each mistake that she made, each time that she acted like she didn't get something simple, was another twist of the knife. It felt like long hours of torturing Ethan, so she figured it was time to go on to take the car outside the estate. "Let's go into town," Bernice said, light and cheerful. "I'm not… What? No, you're not ready for that," he said, the protest slipping out of the controlling role. "Nonsense," she said, already taking the car in that direction. "How am I supposed to learn if I don't practice?’ She didn't want to fight with him because she knew that he couldn't say anything to her; he could not disobey Rafael's instructions. He stiffly sat in his seat as she drove onto the main road, still driving enough to keep him on edge. They drove in silence for the next few minutes, yet every mile made the tension provoke the car. She could feel his anger radiating from him, and some twisted satisfaction washed over her. This was her revenge, her little way of showing him that she wasn't some chick he could just use and then throw away. Yet, coming up to the middle, Bernice found her eyes drawn to something, a tall, blonde figure of a familiar shape, standing outside a café with a shopping bag held in one hand, smirking, its Olivia. Bernice's hands pressed the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles were white. She was halfway convinced to keep driving, completely ignoring her presence, but then she saw the way she looked at Ethan—how her eyes narrowed in on him, like a predator. It was enough to make her slow down, pulling up beside her. "Ah, there we go," Olivia said smugly as she walked to the car. "Mrs. Fernandez and… driver." Bernice tried to smile, but she felt it was in feeble proportions. "Olivia," she said coldly, trying to stop herself from getting affected by her snide remarks. "Looks like someone's enjoying herself." "Oh, totally," she replied with a press of her lips toward Ethan. "Life is awesome." Ethan shifted beside Bernice, the anger mixed with something else—shame, maybe? Good. He deserved a healthy dose of it. "Is it though?" Bernice replied, pitching her voice to hers. "I bet you're doing pretty good for yourself too?" She flipped her hair back, a giggle rising from her throat. "Oh, you know, a little of this, a little of that. Ethan's been very…generous lately. Bernice's heart hit her chest with a thud, but she let nothing show. "I'm sure it does." He was quiet for a long moment—a heavy kind of silence that seemed to leave Olivia feeling vaguely triumphant. "Anyway," she said at last, laying into Bernice with her eyes, "it's been nice seeing the both of you. Enjoy your day. With that, she walked out, her laughter was like a pearl in Bernice's ears. Watching her go, she had pressed so hard against the driving wheel that her knuckles whitened under the skin. Ethan said nothing at all, but his face was a picture of ill-concealed anger. The thickness and suffocation of the tension that had been built up between them at that moment seemed to put Bernice down, and she just refused to break it first. This was all she wanted, to see him squirm, to see him struggle with the outcome of his past actions. As she drove away, her mind was racing with thoughts of revenge—how she would get Ethan and Olivia to pay for what they did to her. After all, speaking, the beginning was yet to start; she knew the game would be on. Finally, they arrived at the mansion. Anger, more than pent up, was boiling over and yet barely held within as he alighted from the car and slammed the door after himself. Bernice got out of the car and followed, with very light, playful steps. "Ethan," she called after him, her voice so sweet, like honey with a smirk plastered on her face. I was enjoying every bit of this.