Plastic surgery would alter her face permanently and that wasn't something she wanted. She liked her face. It reminded her of who her parents were. The makeover was her way out. Face prosthetic was salvation. She never thought she would look this good as a grey-eyed brunette. That was what the moving company saw when they looked at her. She had looked herself over in the mirror and marveled at the wonders of science. For five years they had been trapped in the body of well-developed teenagers but teenagers none the rest. She couldn't say she understood why her father would have done anything for this face but she had to give it credit. Anabelle Stone wasn't your proverbial hag, siren perhaps. She smiled for the umpteenth time at the man that had been checking her out.
She should be twenty this year. How time flies. She thought, adjusting her huge sunglasses. From child genius to child assassin, either way, she was a prodigy. She was beginning to like her narcissistic side.
"Aren't you too young to be living here all by yourself?" The older man asked. She sat up on her chaise lounge. She smiled yet again twirling her ash-brown hair. Humans and their fake chivalry.
"My parents will be living here, I'm the only one with a sense of interior style that can tell recherché from kitschy." She replied
What family!? She had thought about erasing them after they are done with her work but then she wasn't done moving just yet. She could have moved all these by herself but she wanted to know the value of wealth. She looked around. Her eyesight has gotten better. Her mom had added an extra pupil for her which she can extract and retract from the primary at will to see better. She could see the entire golf course, down to the lake and beyond. She blew out her breath from her mouth and licked her lips. The woman could have at least added an extra brain. There was so much to see with four pupils! She retracted her secondary pupils.
Anabelle Anabelle Anabelle
She could bet her mom was already working on herself. Not only did she want to punish her, but she also needed a similar subject to test what she could bet Anabelle wanted to use on herself minus the destructive parts of course. Now she knows why her mom was obsessed with modification, this stuff rocks! Another slang she picked up from her research.
"I'm sorry were you talking to me" Rosetta pulled herself out of her thoughts. What's with humans and their aversion to peace?
"I said your place is really beautiful" the guy that had been checking her out repeated.
Social climber! Did she blame him? She didn't care. She had heard him answering calls from his strings of girlfriends. He was quite good-looking. If she had a type, he would have qualified. That pleasure of life held no appeal for her. She looked at him and wondered what she wanted to do. She smiled.
"It is and it has a lake too" she replied like the pampered brat he expected
"Wow! That's cool. I didn't get to see it though."
"Bummer!" Another new slang. "It's the highlight to me" big lie
"Since today is the last day of our work here maybe you could show me later before we go. Hope it's not too much trouble, I don't want it to seem like I'm galavanting on your property." He said with a self-conscious smile
I see you! I see you!
"Sure. You could take a quick dip. I won't tell if you don't"
"That would be great! I won't! Promise!"
Idiota!
"Okay. Say in two hours."
"Yes! It's a date! I…I mean…I'll be there!" He said and took off
From the charismatic to the shy and socially awkward. He was testing what would work on her and from the way he was sticking with this pathetic act, he felt it was a winner. She would place him within her age bracket. She lay back on the chaise lounge and closed her eyes.
The workers went about their work and ignored her, thankfully. She chose this particular location because she liked it. Was it convenient for her? Of course! Was it convenient for Cynthia? She didn't care. She fiddled in her bag for the hand mirror she put there. Taking off her sunglasses, she stared at the face she had carefully picked. Cynthia Amanda Coralez, the only child of money magnet and diplomat Alfred Coralez and his superstar movie director wife Serena Coralez. She was also one of the possible heirs of Coralez and Co. as well as the heiress of A&C Pharmaceuticals.
She put on her sunglasses. Were they expecting her to take on a random identity? Her identity was better but this one was amusing. She was bummed that she discovered her sense of humor late. Where was the real Cynthia? In a fridge somewhere, not dead, older but definitely not dead. At that time she didn't feel like killing her but…
She had options but she would rather be run over by a bus than assume them. Not that it would do much damage. Wait! She hasn't tried that! She needed to find a bus! It would have to wait. She could smell her two hours looking in her direction.
Tsk! Cynthia was pretty but not jaw-dropping drop-dead gorgeous. She was saying this as someone whose mother had out of this world's beauty standards and was almost ranked as a goddess. Now back to Cynthia, she was passable but her major appeal was her background. 'The pea brain, raw heiress set to inherit everything' at least that's what Anabelle viewed her as after one dinner when she was twelve. It took her one conversation to agree with her mother. However, after coming out of hibernation and cracking her mom's pattern, she investigated those that were left out. This particular character was amusing. Her success story was more hilarious than Cinderella's slippers and pumpkin. The secrets the elites hide were always amusing just like hers.
"The two hours….sorry I'm just so eager," he said.
It was said Cynthia loved the attention. Well, then this was a new Cynthia!
"Let's go!" She said standing getting up and walking past him. The guy whose name she couldn't remember gave a sly smile and followed her. So she was either tough or playing hard to get. These rich brats loved the attention.
He walked beside her and tried striking up conversations. The girl was bipolar as hell. She would answer enthusiastically one minute and the next would seem bored out of her mind answering with noncommittal 'hmms' and 'aahs'. It was frustrating but he was determined to work. He couldn't even initiate his trademark accidental physical contact. She was always moving or stopping rapidly.
Rosetta was enjoying this game. She was toying with him. Who said she had to keep in character? She was Rosetta Stone! Besides she was not adopting a new identity, she was using an identity that suited her. She was prone to changing her mind so why invest her energy in continuously being in character?
Brandon looked at the girl, so she was a little older than him but she didn't look it. He thought she used filters but up close it didn't do her justice. He had studied her as soon as his boss told him they would be renovating a property that likely belonged to her. He didn't mind an older woman especially one this loaded and pretty so he had been putting the feet he thought would appeal to her. He had observed from her social media handles, she loved compliments which was why he complimented the house knowing full well it was her house.
He was looking for ways to complement her. He cannot just blurt out 'You're so beautiful'. He could but the opportunity has not presented itself. He tried a different approach.
"The view here is amazing…"
"It's appealing" she replied like she had seen better and he didn't doubt it.
"Was the appeal the reason you decided to live here"
"No. Lots of resting place" she replied.
Okay? He was not sure why that was her reason but you can never really understand the reasoning of the wealthy.
Rosetta looked around. The property was huge. Lots of space to put a lot of things to rest. Easy, accessible, and stress-free.
"By the way, you have an excellent skin tone…"
"I know, right!?" It was a rhetorical question
"…oh, I just thought I should tell you. I was observing you under the afternoon sun…" he began
Rosetta wanted to cut in with 'I wanted to give you a microscope" but held her peace.
"I can wait to see you under the sunset. I'm sorry…did I make you uncomfortable? I'm so sorry… I get carried away by things of beauty. I'm an artist…"
"So am I"
"Oh really! Then we might have a lot of things in common"
Not really!
Rosetta was finding herself bidding her tongue. Of all the nonsensical things to say!
"What do you like to paint?"
Dead people!
"It depends on my mood" default bratty answer.
"I love portraits. I feel that you get to see more than just the person and sometimes connect not just with the person but sometimes help the person connect with something else, a part of themselves…."
So the dude was passionate about fine art, well she only took those classes because Annabelle forced her to and later because Annabelle didn't want her to. However, there was an art she was becoming interested in, performing arts.
"….i just like that sometimes I can help people connect" he finished. Rosetta did well to plaster the star-struck expression she had learned from those soap operas she had reviewed. She would never sit down to watch a movie, not when there are documentaries to watch but she had to know how far humanity had progressed, sentiments and all.
From the look on his face and the sly smile he tried to hide, he bought it. She wouldn't buy it if she was in his position which would be never but then again she was a good actress. If this didn't work out she could always try business or showbiz.
"What do you think about a self-portrait? I could do it for free. Here see some of my works so you'll know I'm not a scam" he said whipping out his phone. He showed her pictures and she immediately thought of someone.
7! The guy had talents in the art that she had seen in no other person than herself. He could capture everything and draw from memory without tampering with anything. He was a human copier, from the slightest emotion to the obvious attributes. What Annabelle could have done with such a talent? She did groom him a bit. In other things mainly.
"Wow!" It was a bit deflated but he didn't notice. He read with enthusiasm and growing adoration. His narcissistic side was awakened.
"Can I see some of your works?" He asked with fake interest. He did his research well and nowhere was it mentioned that she was talented in arts but what was obvious was her appreciation for arts. Luckily, he was an artist in more sense than one.
Rosetta gave him a once over but not for the reasons he thought. Excuse you!? He wanted to see her work. The audacity! Her works were prized in museums and galleries, somewhere not for public eyes and he wants to see some of her works. Does he know who her mother is? Annabelle will have his eyes before using him for her next experiment. Annabelle had used her in every possible way and most of them yielded profits in millions. Luckily for her, she had access to that money. Cynthia wasn't good at arts but she was an art lover. Well, she was only Cynthia in the name.
"I don't have snapshots of my works…"
He was already expecting that. The only creative bone she had was spending her father's money. The fact that she lied about being an artist showed two things. She wanted to learn or she was learning, either way, this was an opportunity for him.
"Good thing I always carry a small sketchpad and a supply of pencils, maybe you can show me a thing or two," he said miraculously producing them.
"Stand over there," Rosetta said collecting the things from him.
Her confidence startled him but he attributed it to false bravado. She couldn't draw anything and that was it. He walked towards the edge she pointed to. She moved closer with the sketchpad. Hmmm! Decisions! Decisions! Decisions! A different idea popped into her head. He was a con artist, wasn't he? Or wants to be.
She watched him take off his shirt. Interesting! He had a fit lean body with abs and all. He thought that would sway her. She had seen better. A little more muscle might get her attention. However, Cynthia was quite shallow with no standards.
"Sorry. I'm also a model. I'm mostly required to go shirtless."
"Mmm"
He watched as she bent down to scribble something. Was she going to draw him as a stick figure? She looked at him and tilted her head to the side then walked towards him. Was she finally going to get close for him to initiate one of his trademark moves? He had noticed his shirtless didn't have the desired effect or maybe she had delayed reaction.
He watched as she approached him slowly and then the pencil he gave her dropped.
"I dropped it" was all she said before she elegantly squatted to retrieve it. That was the last thing he remembered.