Chereads / Eunoia - Between Feuds as a Fake Heiress / Chapter 8 - Cat and Princess - Part Two

Chapter 8 - Cat and Princess - Part Two

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"Hello, cuties!" Chloe chimes, mostly to herself. She makes eye contact with Isabelle and the both of them squeal at the same time, embracing one another.

"Chloe! Perfect timing, I have got to tell you this."

Isabelle grabs a juice box out of the mini ref and offers it to Chloe. She re-told the important parts of the event last night. Minus the absentees. Just as she wraps up the story, the oven timer went off. Ian leaves to get the fresh batch out and returns with a tray of hot cookies. Chocolate chip. Can't go wrong with a classic.

The smell of melted cocoa and cookie dough fills the bakery.

"You had a princess moment and I was attending a meeting. That's so unfair." Chloe takes a bite out of a cookie. Ian narrowed his eyes and put the rest of the cookies on display. With the gathering being full of socialites and people with far too much money on their hands, her two companions would've been out of place. With Ian looking after his siblings at home, her best friend had work to worry about.

It's shameful to admit that she sometimes forgets the importance of money.

"What about the cute boy from earlier?" Ian asked, placing the treats into small individual paper bags. He leaned on the cashier as he listened to them talk. She gasps and pinches her nose.

"Hey!" Isabelle protests. Not funny! Did she even wash her hands?

"One for you and one for your bestie, right Izzy?" Chloe wiggles her eyebrows. Ian coughed. Not anymore, humph! She wipes her face with a wet wipe.

"Don't you have a boyfriend?" He asked. She places her hands on her hips. Ian shrugs, innocently whistling away as he set the products for display.

"Details, details!" She waves her hand. As irresponsible as always. Isabelle laughs. She remembers the first time the two met and how silent it was between them. Oh, if only it could be that quiet again. Once Chloe got an office job nearby, she dropped by the bakery often. Before Isabelle could do anything, the two were already bickering like children.

"Aaron is just a friend." Isabelle pops a candy into her mouth. The taste of warm vanilla made her think of Tristan. If not vanilla, he'd pick strawberry flavor. She baked a cheesecake for his birthday last year and he teared up with just one bite. It was a small celebration, spent with their circle of friends. She pats her cheeks and forces herself not to daydream.

Going down memory lane today, huh? Gosh.

"I need a friend like Aaron." Chloe sighs. She takes out a small compact mirror and did a quick touch-up of makeup. She's used up the foundation already? Looks like Isabelle would need to buy a whole pack for her best friend.

"Totally." Ian nods. He stuffs his hands in his pockets. Chloe's daily makeup is gorgeous. Just a simple, clean look of foundation, winged eyeliner, and lipstick. With her thick eyebrows, she doesn't have to worry about an eyebrow pencil.

"Right, before I forget we should go see Ashley."

"Her cold hasn't gone away?" Isabelle said. How long has it been since the three of them hanged out?

" 'fraid not. You should come with us, Ian." Chloe suggested. Ian gives a soft smile. Isabelle knew Ian is fond of Ashley, having common interests. From a simple game of chess to talking about novels, they got along quite well. Chloe of course tried to join in but fell asleep then.

"I have another job after this. Maybe next time." Ian declines. He didn't say it outright, but Isabelle saw his shoulders shrink. She pats his shoulder. He's such a hard worker. In everything he does, from getting a tattoo to handling a delivery, he gives it his all.

"Don't exhaust yourself, okay?" Isabelle said.

Ian nods and sees them off. Chloe rambles on about her boyfriend as she drives. It's always Ryan this and Ryan that with this woman. Isabelle couldn't pay attention, tired of repeating the same advice. They bought takeout before heading to Ashley's condo.

"I don't think fast food is good for someone sick." Isabelle comments. She didn't see how a coke float and a burger would be much help.

Won't this just worsen her sore throat? Oily food isn't good. Considering the calories and nutrition in these, it may cause more harm than good.

"It's the thought that counts." Chloe points out. She just didn't want to admit she can't cook well.

"The Diva is a terrible cook?" Isabelle snickers. She threw a neck pillow at Isabelle, her eyes glued to the road. She continues to talk about her boyfriend throughout the ride. Oh god.

They step out of the elevator and rang the doorbell. A young woman answers. She wore a blue, floral-patterned dress. She looks straight past them, her eyes a cloudy pale color.

"You two finally decided to visit." Ashley deadpans. She looked past them.

"Is my perfume that much of a giveaway?" Chloe teases. She bites her lip, holding back her laughter. With such a unique scent, of course it is! Goodness. Ashley had always had a keen sense of hearing. With the jangle of her earrings and footsteps, it's easy to tell who's coming.

"It's good to see you, Ashley." Isabelle said.

"Alright, alright. Come in. " Ashley waves her hand. The three giggle and got together in a group hug. She welcomes them inside and told them to make themselves at home. The condo hadn't changed much from how she remembered, aside from the faint smell of pumpkin spice in the air. Moonbucks again?

"Mind if I cook?" Isabelle asked, staring at a shelf full of ingredients.

"As long as you don't break, burn or misplace anything." Ashley said, facing the ceiling. She wraps herself in a blanket. She isn't Chloe.

"You brought fast food?" Ashley said. She links her arm with Chloe's and snuggles. She claps her hands twice and the lights switch on.

"What, you don't want it?"

"Soda is the only exception." She scoops some ice cream onto the straw. She closes her eyes, devouring the drink.

"How does pork stew sound?" Isabelle put on a thin apron and took out a pot from the cupboard. She put her hair up in a loose bun. It's been a while. The place needs a quick vacuum, stat!

"Great!" Ashley said. She sneezes. Chloe gives her a tissue and takes a bite out of the burger. How did she eat so much with such a small body? Where does all that food even go?

Isabelle washes her hands and slices the meat and vegetables. After a dash of some spices, she places the ingredients in a pressure cooker and lets them sit. That'll do. Ashley walks around slowly and refills the pet feeder. The dog, a lovely golden retriever, approaches her master immediately.

"You're so sweet." She pats the dog's head once and walks into the kitchen.

"Is it ready yet?" Ashley sighs. Isabelle immediately shuts a half-open drawer. Close one. Satisfied with not finding any, she grabs a yogurt drink from the refrigerator and helped herself.

"Give it a couple more minutes." Isabelle answers. She watches Ashley sit in a chair and hands her utensils. Chloe began to talk about her boyfriend. Again? The two made a face and Isabelle brings Ashley out to the balcony.

"She won't notice we aren't listening." Ashley said. She finger combs her hair, the blonde strands fluttering with the wind. Isabelle chuckles. Of course not. If they've heard it once, they heard it all.

"You think they'll break up again?" She asks. Isabelle stretches her arms. The wind travels from the nape of her neck to the hem of her shirt. Chloe is a little obsessed with her boyfriend, maybe to a fault, but she does care for him deeply. When he's around, she looks at him like she's a lovesick drunk.

"She won't notice we aren't listening." Ashley said. She finger combs her hair, the blonde strands fluttering with the wind. Isabelle chuckles. Of course not. If they've heard it once, they heard it all.

"Iza, I received a parcel the other day."

She combs through her friends room chock full of books, covering a variety of topics. Being an addict to online shopping, packages are no surprise.

But one with no return address?

Isabelle recalls cramming for exams in this room with them getting lectured by Jake for not listening. In the end, Tristan got the perfect score and he didn't even attend the study session.

She reclines on a leather seat and finds a thick file under the coffee table. She reaches out and flips through it, coming across a report among reports with attached photos.

What?

Isabelle furrows her eyebrows. Did she read that right? Her eyes skim through the words repeatedly, as if that would change what had been printed.

She goes back to the living room, where the two were now laughing. She grips the files in her hand and hides them behind her back.

Isabelle goes back into the kitchen and opens the pressure cooker. Satisfied, she serves her friends a bowl of jasmine rice and stew. Chloe dug in first, content. She'll be quiet, on the bright side.

"That's just delicious! How do you make it so good?" Chloe asked. Perhaps she spoke too soon. Isabelle smiles, the recipe Ian had taught her. It has red beans and seasoning, accompanied by large cuts of pig feet and a special ingredient that makes it sour.

Ashley ate slowly, savoring the stew. After they finish their meal, Chloe clears the table and set the dishes in the sink.

"Girl, you got to fill Ashley in about that boy." Chloe winks. Isabelle laughed. She wanted to tell them about Aaron and his uncle but didn't want to dampen the happy mood.

She re-told the events of when Tristan hit on her and her first meeting with Stephen, to last night. With emphasis, gestures, and changes in voice of course. After she was done, Ashley blushes and slaps her arm. The three talked for a while longer before Chloe had to leave, having a curfew.

Ashley falls asleep on the couch, listening to music. Isabelle picks up the file. Upon reading the first page, she holds her breath. She drops the file, scattering the documents. A few photos of rather graphic images were in the pile.

She covers her mouth, a whimper escaping her lips. Who would send such a thing? Her head spins, trying to figure out whom.

Whatever the reason, she wanted to get to the bottom of this. even if it'd be the last thing she'd do.

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