She came with a fake smile and shaked your hand saying “thank you”. She ran with fake tears, fake story. She started to weave her web, the one she said it’s yours, creating a fake fantasy where she’s a victim, not the spider. She became better: better liar, better bitch. And at the same time you just can’t hate her, you can’t stop imagining that someday you’ll make all this fake parts become true. If she’s the poor princess, it’s your right to show her how good you can be as the evil queen.