CHAPTER EIGHTY EIGHT – CRAZY WOMAN

When the beleaguered blonde finally spoke again, it was in a tremulous, brittle husk of a voice that sounded remarkably small and uncertain. "Is...is that what you all really believe?" she whispered with an almost childlike fragility, peering up at Charlotte in particular with glistening eyes that rooted her to the spot. "That I'm just some sad, delusional hanger-on desperately clinging to Julian...?" Charlotte found herself momentarily transfixed, almost unnerved by this unexpected glimpse of vulnerability and self-doubt she'd never witnessed from the usually insufferable woman. An instinctive flicker of sympathy tugged at her conscience, regardless of whether the apparent emotion was genuine or not. But of course, it was precisely that fleeting empathy that rendered her completely unguarded for the lightning-quick shift back into Vanessa's true, nefarious colors. No sooner had Charlotte opened her mouth to offer some vague concession or reassurance, than the wounded doe-eyed gaze