INSATIABLE CRAVINGS
Insatiable Cravings – Episode 51
Subtitle; {Loving You Is A Loosing Game}
TAGS: Age-gap, Mafia, Forbidden Love, Drama, Tragedy and Betrayal.
Settings: United Kingdom, Russia and others.
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
Genevieve’s POV
A mischievous thrill coursed through me as I watched Margot’s face shift from irritation to outright shock. She stared at me, utterly flummoxed. Right on cue, the bell rang, and the hallway was instantly flooded with students, just as I had planned.
Eyes darted our way, curious about the commotion, but neither of us paid them any heed. We were locked in a silent battle of stares—my eyes still glistening with unshed tears, while hers brimmed with confusion.
“And what’s going on here?” Mrs Green’s voice cut through the tension, and I slowly turned to face her. Her gaze flickered between me and Margot, clearly expecting one of us to explain. “What did you do, Genevieve?”
See? She despíses me.
How on earth does the headmistress leap to the conclusion that I’m the cause of this scene? I mean, aren’t I the one standing here on the verge of tears?
One of these days, before I leave this wretchéd place, I swéar I’ll tórch her office, metaphorically speaking.
Or maybe not.
Margot shuffled beside her, her expression now meek, which only made me scoff. “She…”
“I what?” I interrupted, folding my arms and giving her a look that could melt ice. “Choose your words wisely, Margot. They could land you in a world of trouble.”
Mrs Green held my gaze for what felt like an eternity, before addressing the nosy crowd. “Don’t you all have lessons to attend? Off with you!” Then, turning back to us, she ordered, “Both of you—my office. Now.”
Margot glared at me before following her inside like the dutiful little pet she pretends to be. There’s a difference between genuinely being good, like my best friend Julianna, who’s overly kind, and pretending to be good, which Margot has perfected.
I cannot stand hypocrites. Why is it so difficult to just be yourself? I’m perfectly fine with admitting I can be a bit of a nightmare, so why can’t everyone else just own it?
I trailed in behind them, closing the door. Margot was already perched in one of the seats before the desk, and Mrs Green gestured for me to take the other.
“I’d rather stand,” I replied as politely as I could, though it seemed to offend her to no end. “Fine, I’ll sit.”
“What happened?” she asked, though Margot, ever the opportunist, didn’t waste a moment before interjecting.
“Genevieve’s behind my family’s financial troubles.”
The sheer absurdity of it made me laugh. Even Mrs Green, who usually buys into Margot’s nonsense, looked perplexed.
“I beg your pardon?”
Leaning back, I crossed my legs and watched Margot try to explain how I, an eighteen-year-old schoolgirl, had single-handedly bankruptéd her father’s company.
“She…” Margot trailed off, her gaze flicking to me. “She knew about it before I did! How else could she possibly know, unless she’s involved? Not even the press has caught wind of it.”
“Yet,” I interjected with a smirk, earning a warning look from Mrs Green. “Do you honestly believe that? How utterly preposterous.”
“You know what you’ve done, so why are you denying it?”
I eyed her with barely concealed disdain. “Perhaps because I didn’t do anything.”
Well, not directly, at least. Let’s just say, Dominic is worth his weight in gold.
“You’re lying.”
I rolled my eyes and turned to Mrs Green. “She slapped me, you know. That’s a violation of school policy, is it not?”
“I only did it because you were provoking me,” Margot snapped, her eyes filling with tears. “You know what you did, Genevieve. Just stop.”
“I’m calling your parents,” Mrs Green declared, her tone final. Cold dread gripped me at once.
Oh no. If my mother finds out, I’ll be in for it. I’ve already been grounded, and another incident might just extend my sentence indefinitely.
My heart began to race, my palms slick with sweat as I tried to steady my breathing. Mrs Green dialled the numbers, her voice calm as she spoke to our respective parents, confirming their imminent arrival. I sat there, silent and helpless, as the minutes ticked by.
Exactly twenty minutes later, a knock on the door signalled the arrival of my mother. I knew it was her—she always knocks in that particular way, a habit formed after eighteen years under the same roof.
Mariah King entered the room, dressed immaculately as always, the sound of her heels clicking closer with every step. My anxiety spiked as she approached, doing nothing to ease my nerves. When she reached me, I immediately stood up to offer her my seat.
“This had better be important if I’ve had to leave work for it,” she muttered. I couldn’t tell if she was addressing me or the principal, as she didn’t so much as glance in my direction.
Soon after, Margot’s mother arrived, and the meeting began. Mrs Green let out an overly dramatic sigh, clearly wanting everyone to know how ‘exhausted’ she was.
“So, what’s this about?” Margot’s mother asked, resting a hand on her daughter’s shoulder.
The little idiót didn’t even bother to stand up for her own mother and looked as though she couldn’t stand being touched.
“The girls have been involved in another altercation, and Margot is insisting that Genevieve is to blame.”
My mother hummed, nodding slowly in a way that sent a chill down my spine. “And what, exactly, is she blaming her for?”
“Mr Larson’s sudden bankrúptcy.”
A hysterical laugh erupted from somewhere, and to my surprise, it came from my mother. I swallowed hard and wet my lips, waiting for what she’d say next.
“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Anyone with sense would know she didn’t actually want it repeated. She didn’t even give the principal time to respond. “Are you telling me my daughter is responsible for a company’s bankrúptcy?”
My daughter? Did she really just call me her daughter?
“Yes, I know it sounds a bit…” Mrs Green trailed off, and my mother scoffed, letting out another laugh.
“Do you genuinely believe my daughter did this?” Her voice carried that unmistakable edge of intimidation, her blue eyes locked onto the principal. “I asked you a question.”
“If my daughter says she thinks Genevieve is responsible, then I believe she is,” Margot’s mother interjected.
Oh no.
Mariah King slowly turned her head toward Margot’s mother, a look of disdain flickering across her face as though she were inspecting something unpleasant stuck to her expensive shoes.
“That’s the problem. You and your daughter shouldn’t be doing any thinking when you clearly làck the capacíty for it. You’re accúsing my daughter of something as significant as this based on your daughter’s so-called thoughts. Well then, perhaps I should think you’re both idióts—would that be right?”
My jaw dropped. I was utterly speechless, watching this unfold like some sort of grand performance.
The surge of emotions within me was overwhelming. I was simultaneously delighted that my mother was standing up for me, and shocked, because this was the first time she had ever done so. My vision blurred, and I blinked rapidly, realising tears were forming in my eyes.
“That is—”
“Don’t interrupt me when I’m speaking,” my mother cut the woman off, and I couldn’t help the smug smile that spread across my face. She turned to Mrs Green, disappointment clear in her eyes. “You called me here for this nonseñse? Is this why I sent my daughter to this school? Did I send her here to be blamed for trivial things? Do I donate to this school every single year for my daughter, Genevieve King, to be treated with such disrespect?”
One thing about my mother is that she never raises her voice. She speaks with this controlled calmness that’s far more unsettling. She learned that from her father.
“Mrs King…” Mrs Green attempted to speak but paused, exhaling sharply. “Genevieve has a reputation for causing trouble, and you know this.”
“What I know is that my daughter stands up for herself. Yes, I admit she doesn’t always handle things in the most civilised way, but that’s hardly a reason for such a baseless accusation.” She then turned her attention to Margot and her mother. “And why exactly do you think Genevieve made your father bankrúpt?” she asked Margot.
“She hàtes me,” Margot snapped.
“I’m not surprised,” my mother replied coolly. “And that’s your reason?”
“My daughter—”
“Please, be quiet.” Mariah King glanced up at Margot’s mother, a forced smile playing on her lips. “I’m speaking to your daughter, who, might I add, hasn’t even bothered to stand up for you to take a seat. Is this the same person throwing accusations around so carelessly?”
Okay, today is officially the best day of my life!
“She also happens to be the one who made that remark about my husband and me not being around to raise our daughter, isn’t she?” Mrs Green had no response, bowing her head to avoid my mother’s piercing gaze. “There are cameras in this school, yes? I want to see the footage.”
“Is there a reason for that?” Margot’s mother asked.
Mariah King looked up at her again, the same forced smile on her face. “Yes. So we can see exactly how my daughter supposedly led your daughter to such ridiculous thoughts. Am I wrong, Mrs Green?”
“N-no.”
“Good.”
As my mother had requested, the footage from both yesterday and today was brought up and played on the principal’s computer.
It was paiñfully clear from the clip that Margot had been the one to bump into me, without so much as a word of apology, and had the audacity to insúlt my parents in the process. Yes, I may have said a few things that were out of line, like commenting on her upbringing, but she pushed me to it. She didn’t even apologise after ruiníng my uniform and belongings.
I might be a bit of a troublemàker, but I know when to say sorry and thank you. It’s only proper.
My mother’s scoff drew my attention away from the screen. She sat there, arms folded, an expression of deep displeasure etched onto her face. “I do hope you’re seeing what I’m seeing,” she said coldly, turning her gaze to Mrs Green. “Didn’t you say my daughter was… what was it, again?” She feigned a moment of thought, letting out a slow hum before snapping her fingers. “Ah, yes. You said she ‘causes trouble,’ didn’t you, Mrs Green?”
Who knew my mother had this side to her? I was completely stunned, speechless, and, to be quite frank, incredibly proud.
The room was eerily quiet, save for the sound of the CCTV footage still playing. All eyes were on Mariah King, my remarkable mother, as she sat poised and elegant in her seat. Her expression had shifted to one of unnerving calm, and the strangest part was that she was smiling.
“You outright claimed Genevieve was a troublémaker, yet now you’ve gone silent. Her uniform, her books, and her MacBook were all ruinéd by this girl over here, who’s trying to blame my daughter for her father’s…” My mother laughed, though it was tinged with disbelief. “You called me to complain about Genevieve, and like a fool, I assumed she was at fault. I scolded her without hearing her side of the story. Are you tired of being principal?”
The threat was thinly veiled, but it was there, and Mrs Green was sharp enough to pick up on it. Her head dipped, and the next words she uttered brought a grin to my face so wide that my lips began to ache. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? You’re sorry? Well, let’s see if I feel like accepting your apology after watching today’s clip.” My mother’s piercing blue eyes—identical to mine—shifted back to the screen. “Play it.”
As the video began, I couldn’t resist sneaking a glance at Margot, who was glaring at me from her seat. I pouted at her, feigning sympathy, and to my delight, it worked. Her frown deepened, and I smirked, satisfied.
The footage rolled on, showing everything from when I was waiting outside the biology class I’d missed thanks to this little debacle, right up to when Mrs Green had come out of her office.
“As we can all see in the clip, it was your daughter who started it.” My head snapped towards Margot’s mother, who was already glaring at me with thinly veiled hatréd. I made sure to mirror the sentiment right back. “What were you doing there? Why were you eavesdropping?”
I exhaled sharply, the irritation building in me at the accusatory tone in her voice. “You watched the video, didn’t you? The answer’s right there.”
“See? She’s clearly rude,” Margot’s mother declared, her voice full of contémpt.
“Rude to those who are rude to her. I don’t see anything wrong with that,” my mother chimed in before I could get a word in. “Respect is a two-way street, as they say.”
“So, you’re justifying your daughter’s rudeness towards me?”
“Yes, in the same way you’re justifying your daughter’s foolishnéss and her reckless assumptions about mine.”
The tension in the room was palpable, and I was living for it. What I enjoyed even more was watching my mother stand up for me. I had been unnecessarily worried.
I thought she’d come here, tell me off again, and probably extend my grounding sentence. But to my utter shock, none of that happened.
Who knew my mother had this much love for me, going so far as to repeatedly call me her daughter with such pride?
“Mrs King…” Mrs Green interjected, attempting to de-escalate the situation. “You must admit it was rather odd for Genevieve—” she shot me a quick glance before looking back at my mother, “to know about what happened with Mr Larson.”
“And what of it? Does that mean she’s responsible? She’s eighteen, for heaven’s sake.”
Yeah, how is an ordinary eighteen-year-old girl capable of such things?
A slow smirk crept across my face as I watched Margot silently fume with rage. Her glare was fixed on her mother, but when she sensed my gaze, she shot a look of pure irritation in my direction, her eyes practically gleaming with it.
“And aren’t we going to address the fact that…” My mother paused, turning to Margot. “What’s your name again?”
“Margot.”
I couldn’t hold back a snicker, and before I knew it, I was laughing. The disapproving looks from Mariah King, Mrs Green, and Margot’s mother only made it worse, fuelling my laughter.
Margot – honestly, who names their kid that these days?
“As I was saying before I was interrupted,” my mum continued, completely unfazed, “Margot here slapped my daughter. That’s clearly against school policy. So, what’s going to be her punishment for laying a hand on another student?” The way my mother’s words commanded the room, leaving everyone speechless, was almost unreal. “Not just any student, mind you, but Genevieve King. In my book, that’s a serious offence.”
“Margot, why did you slap her?” Mrs Larson asked.
Margot shot a furious look at her mother, as if wordlessly accusing her of betrayal, then replied through clenched teeth. “She was talking rubbish about me.”
“I was telling the truth,” I cut in sharply. “You’re in desperate need of some serious character development, and that’s exactly what I said. Oh, and the fact that you won’t be sitting your exams because…” I shrugged casually. “You know why.”
“You bítch.”
“Language, Margot,” her mother snapped.
Margot let out a long, heavy sigh, and I couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not. Then my mother stood up, casting a disdainful look at both the idíot sitting down and her standing mother. Shaking her head, she turned to Mrs Green. “No one, and I mean no one, is to ever lay a finger on my daughter again for as long as she’s at this school. If it happens, you’ll no longer be sitting in that chair.” She pressed her palms against the desk, leaning in closer to Mrs Green. “You like being principal here, don’t you? Love your position at Silverlake Academy? Well, if you want to keep it, I suggest you heed my warning.”
With that, Mariah King strode confidently towards the door, but paused for one final remark. “And Mrs Larson, do try to raise your daughter properly, seeing as you’re home all day.”
What. On. Earth?! Burn!
Who knew my mum had a fiery side?
That must be where I get my sharpness from. If I loved her half as much before, it’s shot up to a full hundred now, because what on earth just happened?
The door opened and closed, leaving just four of us in the office after Mum’s exit. I turned to face Mrs Green and caught her staring at me – not glaring, just staring.
With a feigned smile, though inwardly I was grinning, I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “I think I’ll be off then.” She simply nodded in agreement, so I headed for the door.
But like Mum, I paused with my hand on the doorknob. “Maggot? Oh, sorry, Margot…” I smiled sweetly as her frown deepened. “I could ask my parents to help you out with your fees. That way, you’d know exactly where you belong.” Then, I mouthed, “Beneath me.” I winked, then walked out of the office – or rather, the battlefield – and let out a deep sigh of relief.
It was short-lived, however, as I saw my mother standing in the hallway. Our gazes locked – blue on blue, neither of us willing to be the first to look away.
“Are you going to ground me again?” I asked. She shook her head. “Oh. Well, thanks, I suppose.”
Then something odd happened. She chuckled. A real, genuine chuckle.
My eyes widened in shock, and I instinctively took a step back, just in case I needed to make a run for it.
“Why didn’t you tell me the full story about yesterday?”
“You wouldn’t have listened.”
“I’m sorry.”
Right, that’s quite enough surprises for one day. Any more and I might just faint.
She just said the ‘S’ word. She’s never said that in her life, not as long as I’ve known her.
“You’re not grounded anymore, Genevieve. I’m sorry for not hearing you out. If I had, you wouldn’t have been slapped.”
“It’s fine.”
“Right.” She closed the distance between us, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Don’t forget, I’m proud to be your mother, so try talking to me more, and perhaps I’ll listen.” Before I could respond, she added, “See you later.”
I stood there, watching her leave the school grounds, my hand pressed against my chest as my heart raced. It pounded so hard, I feared it might leap out.
Was that a doppelgänger? Where’s my mum, Mariah King, and what has this doppelgänger done with her?
Or perhaps it was my mother who did something to the doppelgänger. No sane person would want to cross her. Well, except for me.
I do love winding her up whenever she gets on my nerves, as she so often does.
“Was that your mum?” Jules’ voice made me turn. I nodded, and she pulled me into a hug, which I gladly returned. “How was it?”
“Fantastic.”
She pulled back quickly, as if my skin had scorched her, and scrutinised my face. “What?”
“As I said, it was fantastic.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yep.”
“What happened?”
I smirked. “Oh, plenty. The show’s not over yet, though.”
My plan isn’t finished. Margot better brace herself, because my wrath is coming in hot.
“You’re such a strange girl.”
“But you love me.”
“Unfortunately, I’ve no choice.”
I nudged her. “Rude.”
TBC
