Madeline arose around 11 the next morning, which was very early by her standards and waited patiently for Chase to call for nearly twenty minutes before deciding that she couldn’t just sit around all day and wait on him. He was the one supposed to be sorry, not her. And after all, she was very busy and had a lot of things she had been planning to do. It was Friday and therefore she had a standing appointment with her manicurist, for touch ups to her nails and a repolishing of her pedicure. There was no reason she couldn’t march straight to his office and demand an apology for being so mean to her over the phone. After all, how was she supposed to know when he was in a meeting? He could have just waited to call her back. Madeline chewed lightly on the edge of one French manicured fingertip and frowned. She knew he was going to be busy, but if she didn’t check in on him every once in a while, how was she supposed to know he was still alright? It didn’t matter. He was very mean to her over something so stupid and she was going to march straight down to his office and make him very sorry for hurting her feelings. Of course, it wasn’t as if he had really hurt her, she just didn’t want him to think that he could get by with something like that. She was sure his colleagues had been laughing at her, and she just couldn’t stand for anyone to make fun of her in anyway. She would get even for his stupidity.

After all, she had seen him walk into the same hotel with Antoinette – of course she had called to check on him. He had no business seeing that double-crossing woman. Not that Madeline could tell him that. He would get all huffy about how she had been spying on him, and there was no reason for her to distrust him, and blah and blah, and blah. But, Madeline knew better. She knew that given the chance he would run straight back to Antoinette and be wrapped around her ugly little finger all over again. Madeline would almost bet that her nails weren’t even manicured. She was such a heathen, traipsing all over Miami and the world in all those nasty countries, doing God only knows what. She wasn’t sane, that was for sure. No sane woman with her money got their hands dirty with all those dirty children. They sent a nice check to someone else who could do it for them. And then they went out with a group of girlfriends to have a martini and celebrate. That’s what philanthropy nowadays was all about. They didn’t have to really worry about anything going on, she could just cluck sadly over whatever even happened and frown and shake her head at the injustice when asked, but then she got on with her life. But what did Antoinette do? She went and protested this thing or that thing – things she had no business getting involved in. Why couldn’t she just leave well enough alone?

Madeline thought she was ungrateful: spoiled and ungrateful to boot. She knew for a fact that Ms. Duke had given her every advantage. She had even taken Madeline along so that Antoinette wouldn’t be alone. They went shopping, and had their nails done, and their hair and makeup fixed, and on some weekends, Antoinette’s mom had flown them all over the country for pageants and beauty shows. Antoinette’s mother had set them up to be stars, and she didn’t use any of it. The ungrateful bitch had pouted and complained about having homework and other things to do. Madeline had homework to do too, but that hadn’t stopped her from ignoring it for glamour. She had still graduated too. But no, Antoinette always had to be better – she couldn’t have the greatness of her family – she had to be intelligent and a rebel. She was always trying to change the world. Couldn’t she just enjoy this one? If she would have Madeline wouldn’t have to be marrying rich now. She could have been famous for her beauty and posture – maybe even Miss America, instead of conniving her way into being a Senator’s wife to someone with really no spine in love with someone else. She rolled her eyes.

Madeline flipped her bleached blonde hair over her shoulder and strode over to her bathroom to stare at her reflection in the mirror. She bit on her lips a little and pouted them in the mirror. She leaned over the vanity to look at little closer and crinkled her nose, turning side to side to check every pore before scrubbing with some expensive all-natural French facial soap and slathering on a moisturizer. Finally, she decided on her shades and applied her make-up, step by step from the bottom using mineral powders and shadows with crushed diamonds. She finished her routine with a wave of her mascara wand and her best eyelash flutter in the mirror. Next she turned to her hair, flipping this part one way and pinning another part over another way, with the dark streaks under it all running through the ultra-light waves. Madeline had just put up her brushes as her chihuahua ran into her feet, yipping in excitement. She picked up the little dog and padded her satin slippers back into the bedroom of her apartment.

“Hewwo wittle baby. How was your walkie?” She set the dog on her coverlet and threw open the door to her closet, pulling several articles out. The maid who had brought the dog in peeked her head into the open bedroom to check on it. She was about to disappear again when Madeline turned and saw her.

“Rosetta, which of these tops looks better?” Madeline held up two similar tunic tops and waited for a response. The woman, who was used to these outbursts, looked at her blankly for a moment. “I keep forgetting that you don’t know anything about fashion. Thank you for walking Jasmine, I’ll see you tomorrow at the same time.” Madeline turned back to her clothes and the woman quickly escaped. Madeline sighed and pulled the pink top off the hanger, replacing the deeper the red one. She slipped her top on with a pair of fitted tailored slacks and some high heel Manolo Blahnik boots. She paused to pull out clothes for her little living accessory afterwards that matched her top. She finished the dog’s outfit with a rhinestone collar to match her earrings. Madeline sighed that she had to dress the little dog on her own. It was so hard to find good help these days. If you found one that could speak English, they didn’t know anything else. But she couldn’t let that distract her from her mission. She had to meet with Chase today, regardless of if he was at work or not – and he better not be since it was a Friday and he had promised her a date. She gritted her teeth and practically seethed. Shaking the wrinkle forming thoughts out of her head, she gathered Jasmine into a little carrier purse and slipped on the rest of her accessories, topping her outfit off with the large engagement ring she had picked out for Chase to give her. She gave a spritz of her perfume to the air and walked her and the carrier through it as she shut the door behind her.

After hailing the first cab she saw to take her the few blocks to the Seagram’s building, Madeline stared up toward the 35th floor with a grimace. She absolutely hated great heights and Chase had huge windows lining one said of his office that he usually kept wide open most of the day. Nevertheless, she steeled her spine and marched right through the front doors heading up the enclosed elevator. There was nothing fancy or really nice about the building and she often begged Chase to move his building somewhere more aesthetic and fashionable. Not that it really mattered, she supposed with him becoming a Senator soon. She smiled at the thought. She could finally rub elbows with some really powerful women who would respect her as a woman.

The doors dinged open and she clicked across the tiled floor, heading straight for his door, ignoring the secretary at the desk. Well, not completely ignoring her. She paused long enough to assess what she was wearing. The business attire was not tailored and the drab browns of her pants with the cream top just made her look like a sunburned snail. Madeline rolled her eyes – that girl would never amount to anything. She disregarded the protests of the ignorant thing and marched right up to Chase’s door, hoping to seem angry and hurt. She rapped her knuckles against the door once, lightly. Pausing for an answer, she was surprised to see the girl return to her desk and not try to make her stop. She supposed the twit had finally gotten the hint to leave her alone.

She knocked again, this time harder and hurting her knuckles a little. Still she waited for his response, patiently tapping the edge of her boot against the tiled floor. She glowered at the girl to check if she had called him or anything to spite her, but she had calmly returned to her work, a satisfied smile on her lips. Madeline knocked one last time, her bag swinging against the door and Jasmine giving out a small yip. Then it came to her – the stupid girl wasn’t stopping her, and she looked like a fool standing there knocking because Chase wasn’t there at all. She gave the stupid bitch a death glare and stormed back across the room. She didn’t care if his secretary always knew where he was. She wouldn’t get the pleasure of holding this over Madeline Wainwright’s head. It was probably Antoinette Duke’s fault anyway. She would pay. Chase would pay. They all would pay.