Page 155 of Cashmere Cruelty

The reason I’m going crazy?

Matvey.

To say he’s been acting weird is an understatement. He’s late to dinner, leaves at the crack of dawn, and doesn’t speak a word to me if he doesn’t absolutely have to. I went to pick a piece of lint off his shoulder the other day and I could swear he almost lunged for his gun.

But I can’t let myself think about it. I can’t let myself obsess over it; I’m gonna go insane. Frankly, I feel like I’ve already started.

So I’m going to do what I do best: deep-dive into my work. The more grueling, the better.

“Alright, alright,” Elias relents. “I can see I’m not going to change your mind. I admit defeat.”

“You’re a saint amongst men, Elias. Thank you.”

After getting my assignments, I hug my boss goodbye at the door.

“Oh!” Elias says. “Almost forgot.” He hands me a pamphlet.

I take it with a frown. I recognize the location printed on the front: the Mallard Expo Hall. At the center, a beautiful blue gown with a matching tiara, all diamond-studded from head to toe. “Last year’s winner?” I guess.

My boss nods. “The designer called itOpulence.A fitting name.”

“Yeah, no wonder,” I mutter bitterly. “This piece is probably worth more than all my organs combined.”

“And mine,” Elias agrees.

The Mallard Fashion Expo: the impossible dream of every designer out there. Every year, they hold a fashion contest for new talent. Technically, anyone’s free to join.

Realistically? The winning pieces usually look likethis.

In a word:expensive.

“What’s the grand prize this year?” I ask anyway. Because, apparently, I enjoy torturing myself. “Tour of European fashion museums? Internship at Versace? Interview with Vivienne Westwood via Ouija board?”

“A scholarship for the Mallard Institute.”

I stop snarking on the spot. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, dead serious,” Elias assures me. “Three years, full ride.”

The living room starts spinning again. This time, I have to hold myself up against the back of the couch.

A full ride. To theMallard Fashion Institute.The single most prestigious fashion academy in New York City.

“That’s… nice,” I croak at last. “Whatever rich kid wins that is going to make their parents really happy. Let them buy the fourth mansion of their dreams.”

If I sound salty, it’s because I am. No one ever wins these contests who couldn’t buy their way into the prizes in the first place. Touring Europe? That’s the Upper East Side’s run-of-the-mill summer vacation. Interning at Versace? With the right connections, you’d get a job there before you even graduate. And now, attending Mallard?

If it’s a joke, it’s a really poor one. Pun intended.

But Elias doesn’t seem to agree. With a soft smile, he puts his hand on my shoulder. “Oh, April. Why do you never give yourself a chance?”

I swallow. Elias’s words hit deeper than I’d like. “I just…”Don’t want to get my hopes up. Not again.“I just have so much on my plate. You know, with the baby and all.”

“Promise me you’ll consider it,” Elias says with a squeeze of my shoulder.

I give a small nod. “Alright. I promise.”

It’s a lie. But sometimes, lies are easier. Lies make everybody happier.

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