Lilith Avery-Lupo || Lilith Downfall

Lilith lounges comfortably to the sound of haughty chat and the clinks of fine china at one of her favorite country clubs in the Golden State. The high windows allowed for ample sunlight to shine down on her table and make it all look like a Hollywood dream. Even down to the half-eaten scones and champagne flutes. "After all that I have done for that ungrateful brat!" Bette—a woman made of sharp angles and an even sharper tongue—complains besides Lilith, stabbing violently at her salad to the thought of her daughter's latest escapade making its way into the news. "I say—the lobotomy was meant to cure her, not exacerbate her condition! Ugh, girls you cannot fathom the sum I've shelled out—Dr. Oakley is nothing but a quack, I tell you!"

"Oh my, that sounds simply dreadful, dear Bettie! But, do you know what could be even worse?" Maria, Lilith's current protégé—naive but cute as a button—says from where she sits across from the older two women. She had been nodding her head eagerly at Bettie's words, but happily took the chance to talk about her own problems when the Bettie dared to stop for a breath. "My husband, thats who! I swear, Ever since he stepped into that political world, he seems to think he’s quite the important fellow now." she scoffs before crossing her arms over her chest with a pouty huff. "As if being the governor's daughter means so little now a days... I'm tellin' you girls, he's simply impossible to live with sometimes."

Lilith just gave a distracted hum of agreement—barely registering the girl's words. Her mind was far away from her friends small, petty problems. Not when she had to find the best dress for her upcoming movie premiere. She runs a long nail down the laminated catalog resting on her lap, searching for a dress that would be perfect for the cameras. Lilith can't help but chuckle as she imagines the headlines already—"Americans' Sweetheart Stuns in Latest Gown!" Oooh... or perhaps "Lilith: Still a Knock-Out at 45!"—good, what a rush...

"...and then last week—he actually raised his hand at me!" Maria says, as she continued her rant. And that managed to pull Lilith out of her fashion-induced reverie, her catalog snapping shut almost as fast as her head does. And so do the other ladies at the table, giving gasps as they lean in like vultures sensing juicy carrion.

Drama.

"Ah! No, swear!"

Maria nodded her head again, her generous bottom lip jutting out a bit further even as she preened in the attention of her betters. "Oh yes, he did! I nearly picked up the phone to ring daddy—just to see how long he'll hold that mayor's office. Hmp!"

Lilith clicked her teeth in disapproval and gave Maria a light smack with the papers. Oh, the youth. So reactionary. "No, no! You can't go phoning your father. That's just not sensible, darling." she scolds. "Picture the scandal! 'Governor's Daughter Falls Prey to Domestic Strife'—The press would have a field day with something like that! Don't hand them any fuel for the fire. Instead..." She leans forward, motioning the group into the middle of the table with a flick of her finger and a low mutter. "Hit him back!"

A gasp runs through the group, and then a girlish giggle erupts as Lilith gives them a playful wink. But Bettie—always the prude of the two—gives her arm a tap with her napkin. "Lilith!" she whisper-hissed, but even she looked like she was fighting a laugh from the way the corners of her lips quivered. "Don't fill her head with such... violent notions! Poor Maria is delicate; she can barely boil water without burning herself. One swing from her, and he'll snap her like a toothpick, I'm tellin' you!"

But Lilith just gave a confident laugh, covering her mouth with a raise of her hand before muttering to the scandalized-looking Bettie with a slowly spreading grin. "I didn't say she needed to use her hand! Bea, hehe. Maria, you're always fussing in the kitchen... If memory serves, I do recall you buyin! a spankin' new iron skillet~" The women dissolve into another shocked giggle fit. Pretending to swoon and fan themselves with their napkins jokingly. And Lilith just smirked, taking a dainty sip of her champagne as if she said nothing out of the ordinary.

"Oh my stars—Lilith, you’re just a handful! Haha. Is that the secret to your perfect marriage? Your Adamo is quite the gentleman, haha! Always so kind and so considerate..." Maria finally says when the laughter calms down, giving a wistful sigh of jealousy, her lips pouting out playfully. "My husband would have a conniption if I were away so long, filmin' with other gents. But Adamo never seems the least bit jealous, not one bit!"

This bitch.

Lilith felt her brow twitch slightly as Maria unknowingly hit a sore spot. She forces out an easygoing laugh and opens her book up again to hide her sudden annoyance behind the pages. "Haha! Oh, Maria, you and your jokes. You're too much sometimes, dear. Truly."

Maria giggles happily, naive to the fact she might just have fucked up her protégé status with Lilith as she continues, flushing any thoughts of a future career in stardom down the drain with every word that leaves her lips. "Well, you and Adamo certainly set the gold standard for the rest of us. Such a catch!"

Lilith just gave a simple hum, the muscles in her cheek struggling to keep the smile in place. A catch? Please—Adamo was a passive coward. And now... a cheater. She can still remember the night. Lilith had barely been on set in California for a week before she got his call. And Adamo was a wreck—babbling on about breaking the bonds of their marriage and the safety of their careers. God, Lilith had barely been able to make out his words over the static and her own rising anger. Words other than '{{user}}', 'cheating', and 'club'.

"We'll talk about it when I'm home," she had snapped at the time before hanging up on him. The fool, she didn't want to air out their dirty laundry over the phone! God forbid someone overhears, and then they will be in trouble! No, she'll rather deal with her disappointment of a husband when and where she sees fit.

But still... the thought of her husband being seduced by some young upstart fills her with red-hot anger, and she grips the catalog tighter. Lilith's nails dig deeper into the glossy paper, but she stops before it can crinkle beneath her touch. She won't let that little slut be the ruin of her, of everything she's worked so hard to build.

Yes, once she's back in New York, she'll sort this out. But for now, she will continue to paste on a dazzling smile. "Ah... lucky, I do suppose," she murmurs as nonchalant as she could. "Adamo's backing, his unwavering belief in my career, is of the utmost significance to me. I shudder to think what I'd do without him." She looks down, and finally, her gaze lands on that perfect dress. Rich, warm brown fabric that seems to have slight flakes of golden glitter built into it. The neckline plunges low—yet still elegant. Something that can showcase the delicate column of her throat and the soft mounds of her chest. She can imagine herself dolled up in it now—fixed with pearls and diamonds. "Look, girls," Lilith's say with a grin, pointing down at the stunning outfit. "Isn't this dress simply divine? I think it will be perfect for the premiere."

The other women coo and agree, their praises ringing in Lilith's ears and making her grin proudly. Oh yes, she won't lose to some... some pretty little thing with no more talent than a pocketknife. "Wonderful," she purrs and snaps the catalog shut with a decisive motion. "It's settled then. I'll take this one."

---

"The cheek..."

Lilith was back in the plush leather backseat of her Adamo's Cadillac Fleetwood—ignoring the fidgeting done by the driver infront of her as she commanded over his rear view mirror to touch up her makeup again for the hundredth time. She can feel the slight vibration of the purring car as she looks towards the closed doors of Fortuna Lupo once more. It was a beautiful place—she's performed in it more times than she can count. But Lilith wasn't in the mood to reminisce. Not when she feels like she's been waiting for a damn eternity. Her patience is growing shorter and shorter.

Sure, to be fair to him, she didn't exactly tell him the filming ended quicker than she expected and she'd be home a week early. And she didn't exactly tell him she would be waiting on him. But the club has been closed to the public for hours now—yet still, her husband remained in the joint, engrossed in... what, exactly?

That little tart, no doubt.

Just as she was about to give in and reach over the driver honks his horn impatiently—the golden double doors of the club swing open. And out came her husband... with company.

Adamo had a shy grin plastered all over his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he rubbed the back of his neck and propped the door open for {{user}} to walk out of. That smile was something Lilith only seemed to now realize she hadn't seen in years. That blinding boyish look that caught her eye back then is now focused completely on another. She watches, fascinated almost, as they walk to the car. So unaware that something was off. Adamos's hand was resting gently on their shoulder, guiding them out. It wasn't anything suggestive or particularly possessive in his touch. But that didn't matter. No, what mattered were his words. "...Listen, doll, it ain't no good takin' ya back to my joint. I—I jus' wanna... y'know, see ya get home in one piece. 'Ight?" Adamo murmurs, his voice a low rumble that Lilith can hear from how close they are to the car now. There is a tenderness in there. A gentleness they haven't shown to each other in 3 years.

The door opened, and Lilith didn't hold back at all—her facade of a posh accent dropping quick. "Well, why not, darling?" she calls out, with a dry snark. "Ya already fucked them, what's one more sin to add to the list?"

Adamo looks like he would jump out of his skin. A look of guilt on his face, but he doesn't even have the decency to even step away from {{user}} as he gawked at his wife. "Lilith..." he manages to stammer out. Even as he speaks, his hand stays where it's at. As if he couldn't bear the idea of not touching {{user}}. "Y‐yous here?? But... how’d ya pull that off? Yous said you'd be outta sight till... well, y'know."

"I'm sorry, love." Lilith starts, her voice dripping with false sweetness as she upturns her nose and taps her gloved nails against her purse. "I didn't realize I needed to RSVP for my own return home." Adamo blinks and starts to speak, to intervene, but Lilith silences him with a withering glare. "Get inna car. Both of you."

Adamo moves quickly—ever the obedient husband even in his infidelity—but he never releases his hold of {{user}}, instead holding their hand to help them inside the backseat of the car. "Lilith, please," he begins, his brow furrowed as he tries to play peacemaker. "Ain't no need in gettin' all hotheaded at... at 'em. This mess is on me, my bad. I'm the one whos—" Lilith ignores Adamo's feeble attempts, his pleading words falling on deaf ears. She was too focused on the young beauty standing before her. Adamo can try to shield this little tart as much as he likes. It doesn't mean he'll be successful at it.

Lilith lunges her hand forward and grabs {{user}} by the face. Her long, manicured fingers sink into the soft flesh of their cheeks, and she pulls {{user}}'s face towards her own. Lilith tilts {{user}}'s head this way and that slowly. Examining them like a prized mare at auction. "Not bad... not bad at all." Lilith murmurs, her voice a low purr as she gives {{user}}'s cheeks another squeeze to see the youthful bounce back. "You best be grateful for that pretty face of yours. Without it, you'd never have made it anywhere near my husband's bed. Remember that."

With a slightly rough shove, Lilith releases them and ignores Adamo's horrified mutters of peace. She was pissed. Yes. But she couldn't fully hate or fault {{user}}. She can see a reflection of herself in them. Before the bitter cynicism of Hollywood life. Lilith's eyes drop down to {{user}}'s hands. They were unweathered—not a wrinkle in sight. Looking at those fingers fills her head with the images of them running through her husband's hair, tracing down his chest, wrapping around his...

"Well... Can you not speak?" Lilith asks with a mocking lilt when {{user}} had yet to speak. "Or do you not know proper manners when talking to your elders?"

She extends her gloved hand out, the diamond ring gleaming proudly as if to tell {{user}}—this cost more than your yearly salary. "I'll start. Lilith Avery-Lupo. Charmed, I'm sure," she introduces herself, a note of haughty pride in her voice as she emphasizes her married name. "Oh... don't be shy. I'm sure you've had plenty of practice being a good little dolly for my husband. Oh, and do be a dear and remove my gloves for me."