Chapter Text
ZOE LEE
Already booked you a ticket to Paris for next week!
I can’t believe that you’re coming home after 10 years. 🥺
So excited~!
[Read 2 weeks ago]
The church bell tolled in the distance as Chloe’s gaze remained fixed on the wooden casket, watching it descend into the earth. Numbness enveloped her, dulling her senses, blurring her surroundings at the edges.
A memory flashed in her mind.
She is back on the day she arrived in Paris. The bustling airport scene abruptly shifts to a dimly lit morgue, the air heavy with the scent of acrid chemicals. In the center of the room lies a body, covered with a white cloth on a metal table.
Each step she takes echoes ominously against the tiled floor, her heart pounding in sync, amplifying the dread in her stomach. Her hand trembles as she reaches for the cloth, hesitating for a moment before lifting it.
The fabric slips away, and her sister’s pallid skin, pursed lips, and closed lids greet her.
Her heart drops.
Zoe had promised to pick her up at the airport.
Zoe had planned an entire week for them to hang out.
Zoe had told her she had something to say.
Chloe gritted her teeth. Suicide, they said.
Impossible.
Her sister wouldn’t do that. Just last week, Zoe had been accepted as the female lead in an upcoming movie. She had been happy. She had been thriving. So why were others saying otherwise?
The burial staff began shoveling dirt into the grave, the hollow thuds of earth hitting the casket reverberating in Chloe's ears—each impact a painful reminder. She didn't know how long she had stood there, observing their work. The crowd slowly dissipated, their murmurs swallowed by the rumble of thunder as the sky threatened with dark clouds. Someone, perhaps her father or Jean, persuaded her to leave, but she stayed.
And when the rain poured down, so did she.
She sank to her knees in front of her sister's tombstone and let her tears flow freely, mingling with the raindrops. The cold, wet earth clung to her, staining her clothes. None of it mattered.
Chloe would never be able to see her sister again.
“When can you come back immediately to New York?” Chloe’s boss, Diedre Dimes, Editor in Chief of NYFashion Magazine, asked over the phone. “One of the interns screwed up an article for the next edition. You need to be here to fix it.”
It was already 10 p.m. in Paris—4 p.m. back in New York
Chloe leaned her hip against the stone balcony of her childhood bedroom, the night air biting through her thin blouse. She clutched her shawl tighter around her shoulders, trying to ward off the chill that seemed to seep into her bones even after the rain had let up hours ago. And the bright Eiffel Tower finally came into view, though its golden lights didn’t seem to shine as they once did for her back then. Now, it felt like a distant memory, ten years was a long time.
“I am on vacation, ma’am,” Chloe replied, keeping her frustration at bay. It had been a long day, and all she wanted was to collapse on her bed and shut off the world. But this wasn’t the first time that she had dealt with her boss during her time-offs.
America and their skewed corporate benefits.
“Chloe, don’t you want to surpass your mother? You told me before that you would do anything for our magazine number one. Yet here we are, still stuck in second place!”
She fought back the bitter laugh threatening to escape from her lips.
Audrey Bourgeois, the glamorous, revered, forever untouchable fashion icon Queen of Style, hadn’t even bothered to show up for her own daughter's funeral. Instead, her secretary sent a brief impersonal email of condolence to her father this morning, adding in a flimsy excuse of why she wouldn’t be in attendance. Chloe could almost hear the dismissive tone in her mother’s voice, brushing off the event as if it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience in her otherwise busy schedule, delegating her secretary to deal with it.
Chloe and Zoe’s entire childhood existed in the shadow of their mother’s absence. Their milestones, their heartbreaks, their achievements—all disregarded by Audrey, who was too engrossed in maintaining her public persona to be a real presence in their lives.
Now, even in death, Zoe was nothing more than a footnote in her mother’s meticulously curated life.
“It's already late here, but I will get to that problem by tomorrow. Please forward the article to me through mail, but I will be charging for work during my vacation.”
Chloe could just reject her boss’ demands since she was being bothered during her paid leave, but as second in command and with Diedre set to retire soon, the other executives were already eyeing her to become the new editor-in-chief. Her exceptional work ethic and meticulous attention to detail had not gone unnoticed. She had a knack for spotting trends before they hit the mainstream, and her editorial decisions often led to skyrocketing readership and ad revenues.
Maybe even more so than her mother.
Audrey Bourgeois might be a celebrated figure in the fashion world, but Chloe’s accomplishments were slowly carving out a legacy of her own.
“Oh, by the way, we’re changing the article since Style Queen had a similar idea to ours in their previous issue. So how about an article about your sister?” Diedre sounded cheerful, as if she had just come up with a brilliant solution.“I know your sister just died, but Zoe was a darling in the fashion world! Why don’t we create a memorial for her instead?”
Chloe’s eyes narrowed. A slow, unrelenting rage unfurled in her chest.
“A memorial,” she repeated.
The words tasted like venom as she pictured what would happen—Zoe’s face splashed across the glossy pages of the magazine, reduced to an aesthetic of a tragic fallen acting star. Another poor headline to turn people’s heads around.
The audacity.
To treat her sister’s death as another scheme for a quick cash grab. Asking to change the article was one thing, another to blatantly mock Zoe herself.
“Yes, and you can write about it as her older sister! Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
Diedre had crossed a line.
"I see," Chloe forced voice to remain steady, though her grip on the phone was anything but. Her nails dug into her palm, leaving sharp, stinging welts. "I understand that the magazine needs to keep up with the latest headlines, but I don’t think my family would appreciate my sister’s death being used for a memorial article. Nor would it be something that the public thinks of as a ‘wonderful move’ for the company."
“Well, think it over first. I’ll extend the deadline for this article for a week. But if you can’t come up with anything better, you have to go through with this.”
Chloe exhaled sharply. “I’ll do my best to think of another one,”
“You always do, but I think your mother would also be covering this. So send in yours so we can publish ASAP! Anyways, I have a meeting to go to, ta-ta! Bye~”
The call dropped.
Chloe shut her eyes, her breath hitching as she struggled to steady herself. With a sudden burst of fury, she hurled her phone against the stone balcony, and the device shattered on impact, sending fragments of glass and plastic scattering across the floor in a chaotic burst.
“Damn it, Diedre,” she muttered through gritted teeth. Tears burned behind her eyes as she stared at the shattered remains of her phone. “My sister's death is not some publicity stunt!"
The Eiffel Tower's lights continued to shimmer in the distance, indifferent to her pain.
Perched on a nearby rooftop, Ladybug and Chat Noir silently observed Chloe's silhouette on the balcony against the backdrop of the late-night city skyline. The twinkling lights of Paris cast a soft glow around her, accentuating the shadows that danced across her tear-streaked face.
Ladybug watched in solemn, while Chat Noir stood beside her, his concern etched in the furrow of his brow.
“We can’t tell her yet,” Chat Noir said. “She’d probably break down even more given her current state.”
“I still can’t believe it. She isn’t even worthy!” Ladybug exclaimed, frustration evident in her tone.
“Ladybug! It wasn't our choice.”
“But I am the guardian and I have to—”
“And you promised ." Chat Noir interrupted, insisting firmly.
Ladybug fell silent and guilt flickered in her blue eyes.
“You promised Vesperia and the entire squad. Don’t take it back just because you don’t agree,” Chat Noir continued. “Not doing this means that you didn’t trust Zoe enough to choose her.”
“Yet of all people, why her? Chloe hasn’t stepped foot in Paris for over a decade! She also has a life somewhere else! Besides, she’s been responsible for so much akumatization in the past— she cannot be trusted! ”
“A decade is long enough to change.”
“Hardly, I don’t think Chloe can ever change." Ladybug retorted bitterly.
Chat Noir raked a hand through his hair, it wasn’t going to be easy to appease his partner tonight. Today was difficult in itself. They had to see one of their friends go. And on top of that, this .
“Bugaboo, it’s time for you to let go. She doesn’t even seem to notice anyone else during the funeral. She was the one who stayed the longest. Zoe had tried to bring her back, and she finally got her to do so. Even in the most unfortunate circumstances.”
“Kitty, I…” Ladybug’s voice trailed off, her resolve wavering. “I don’t know…”
“Let’s give her a chance. Zoe did, and she told us that Chloe had changed. It’s time for her and us not to run away from each other." Chat Noir urged, stepping closer to Ladybug and embracing her. He pressed his forehead against hers, seeking to reassure her.
The two heroes remained in their embrace for a moment, the city's noises fading into the background.
Ladybug conceded reluctantly. “Fine, we will put her on probation first, and we need help from Viperion. After all, he’s the one who’s going to deal with her."
“Thank you, M’lady!” Chat Noir grinned widely.
They turned away from Chloe’s balcony, preparing to leave the rooftop, and Ladybug cast one final glance over her shoulder at Chloe. The young woman had finished wiping her tears away. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she appeared worn and weary, as if she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.
It was surreal, Ladybug noted. The bully she once knew would never allow herself to be seen in anything less than perfection. Yet here she was, stripped down of everything. Vulnerable, raw, and unbelievably human.
“The next successor to the Miraculous of the Bee—Chloe Bourgeois.”
With a nod to Chat Noir, Ladybug and her partner leaped from the rooftop, disappearing into the shadows of the Parisian night.
ZOE LEE
Hey, Chlo, I have something to tell you.
Promise me that you won’t get mad.
I want to tell you so bad, but when you get here!
Be safe on the flight home.
I love you sis. ❤️
[Read 1 week ago]