Chapter 1.7: Mad Woman

Leila looked out the carriage’s window as it pulled into the dense forest of Cleo’s family estate. A family of deer stared back at her before running off into the endless tree line. She couldn't help but feel glum as she rubbed at her eyes. The teenager knew that Cleo's mother would never turn against her. The woman favored her daughter so much that she was blind to any wrongdoing by her. And her father wanted to please his wife so he wouldn't bother unless she really messed up. Her head tilted as she saw the tall manor take shape from the distance. It was so hard to feel like any of this was real. Leila felt uncomfortable at times inhabiting a dead woman's body. But then, she was overtaken by a wave of indifference that washed away any regrets.

Unlike the body's former owner, she wouldn't allow herself to die. She wouldn't open her heart to anyone and if she did they needed to serve a purpose. That's why she intended on using Cleo's brothers. She was aware of the bare bones of their relationship. Cleo, the golden child was looked down upon. She took it as them seeing her as weak which drove her to leave home. In actuality they were jealous, it was clear that Cleo mattered the most to the family. Even extended relatives showered her with love and closed their hearts to the then boys. Leila felt happy to be the one favored in this life. She knew what it was like being the forgotten child. This would make her plan of emotionally manipulating them easier.

Golden brown gates came into view as the manor took its full form. She stared in amazement, it really was something out of a Gothic fairy tale. As the book had described, the manor towered over the treeline like a beacon. She could see men and women standing by the entrance. They were her family's contracted workers. They had been in the military and attempted to be mercenaries in the past. When that failed her father pulled some strings, got their names, and convinced them to serve under her mother. Some enjoyed their new status as the pay was pretty good and the food was delicious. Others showed disdain behind closed doors but respected her father too much to leave.

The carriage stopped and she heard the driver get up. The man had been quiet the entire ride but she could see he was nervous. Leila looked like hell, she was covered in bruises that barely healed. The man did his best to look away from her as he opened the door. She rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand. You would think someone working for assassins would be used to torture. But she bit her tongue and let out a fake sniffle. Now wasn't the time to act as she had in the trial. She let her eyes water and slipped so the man had to catch her. Various eyes were on them and she could feel the man's heart beating rapidly.

"I'm sorry," Leila wiped her eyes as she gave a whimper. One of her hands touched the man's chest briefly and she curled into herself. "I just feel dizzy."

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The driver scrambled to help her stand and wrapped an arm around her waist. It hurt to have him touching her but she smiled. This way he could feel just how skinny she had gotten. The man's entire arm could easily wrap over her waist twice. His face twitched and he looked sick. This was alright, she needed him to be shocked. Employees gossiped with one another and she wanted the word to spread. By the time night came every worker present would witness her display of weakness. They would have to see the royal family's crime firsthand. She looked at the man and covered her face in a panic.

"All of you…" She panted and grabbed at her skin manically. "...you're looking at my body…"

"Please! Don't look at me!" She cried out and hid her face in her hands. From across the grass, she could hear some of the women gasping. With her arms up, her purple bruises were on display.

To them, this was a tragedy worse than death. She was a woman famed for her immense beauty and allure. As a young girl, families had swamped Cleo's parents with marriage proposals. Anyone who was in the circle of the middle class knew how charming she was. People wanted to look like her and her brothers were seen as lesser. A timeless beauty, it was sickening to see that marred by a man's hand. Even beaten she looked desirable but that frightened them. It was a beauty only a wounded fawn could have. Leila smirked under her hands as she feigned a sob and begged the man to look away. She called her body a disgrace to her family name and practically collapsed.

"Help…" The teenager dug her nails into her face like a mad woman as her gaze turned uneasy. "No…no! Get away, help!"

"Miss!" One of the women shouted and she heard someone call for her mother. Another looked pale as she hurried away to get a doctor.

Leila shivered and shielded herself from the desperate touch of the driver. She played her part of the wounded, traumatized woman fearful of being touched. Her eyes widened as the man looked at her in shock. She pushed away from him, untangling herself from his grip in a mad dash to escape. By now the workers had started to run over with panic. Leila was thrilled, her acting was working. All she needed to do was add the finishing touch. Dramatically, she dropped to her knees and held her arms above her head. This hurt like hell as dirt mixed into her sore legs but she bit her lip. No time to focus on that, her plan was almost done.

"No! Stay away!" She directed her attention at the helpless driver as her breathing became erratic. Her chest moved rapidly as she screamed. "Don't touch me!"

A stunned silence overtook the man as he stumbled away. One of the women who managed to come close stopped in horror. Seeing their young mistress sobbing and screaming about being touched sent a chill down their spine. And their hearts were overtaken with anger. They all knew who had done this but they didn't dare imagine what exactly she'd gone through. The teenager acted terrified, screaming wildly at anyone to back away or to stop looking at her. For her to flip so fast, the workers feared that the prince had beaten her into madness. And this made Leila grin underneath her arms. She needed the workers to sympathize with her and to believe that she was a victim.

Only then could the next step begin.