With Henry dead and the plane secured, all that was left was the goodbyes.
On the tarmac of a private airport, each heir stood waiting for the two vehicles to arrive.
The first to come was the car. It was a large black car with tinted bulletproof windows and doors. The car was driven by someone the prison had sent, who got out of the driver’s side and opened one of the back doors.
They all held their breaths as Henry stepped out.
Henry looked so much older than he had weeks prior. He even moved slower. He was dressed in a white shirt, gray joggers, and sneakers—his prison uniform, very different from how any of them had ever seen him look before in his usual Manor uniform of tailored buttoned-up suits.
The driver climbed back into the car and quickly fled the scene.
There was a moment of nothingness where they all just stared at Henry and he stared right back at them.
Then all at once, they rushed over to him.
Fola was asking Henry if he was okay, if he had eaten or drunk anything. Bilal asked Henry if he wanted him to perform a physical on him first before his travels. Perdita was telling Henry that he looked well even though he didn’t. Romeo was holding up a stack of books in his hands that he’d brought from home for Henry to read during the flight. Octavius was hugging Henry silently, saying nothing but at the same time saying everything.
“I’m fine!” Henry said. But they were hearing none of it.
“We’re just so sorry this happened in the first place, Henry… I can… we can explain—” Fola began, but Henry was shaking his head.
“Don’t worry about it, okay?” he said.
“But—”
“It’s all fine now. I really appreciate this. I really appreciate you guys,” Henry said, his voice breaking a little.
“We really appreciate you too,” Octavius said, no longer suffocating Henry in his arms, his voice equally choked up.
“What he said,” Bilal replied, wiping his eyes with the back of his palm.
“You’ll be all set up when you get there. There’s a bank account for you and we’ve been in contact with your mother. But if there is anything else we can do, please let us know,” Romeo said.
“The only thing I would like you all to do now is to be happy,” Henry replied.
Minutes passed with endless farewells before the second vehicle arrived—
if you could even call it that.
In the distance, they could see a large white jet pull onto the runway, and then a few minutes later, a tall, tanned, dark-haired boy emerged on the plane’s steps.
The boy looked to be around their age, maybe a year or so older. He was dressed in a dark sweater, dark slacks, and black Prada loafers.
“Octavius, it’s great to see you. You’re looking very well,” the handsome stranger said in a very pronounced Spanish accent.
“Hello, Alfonso. Thanks for letting us use your jet,” Octavius replied coldly, not responding to or offering Prince Alfonso a compliment of his own.
“No problem, anything for you,Ocho,” Prince Alfonso said with a dimpled smile.
Octavius folded his arms and scoffed.
“This Spanish prince of yours seems like a very nice guy,” Fola muttered.
“He isnotmy Spanish prince,” Octavius replied. “Not anymore, anyway.”
Prince Alfonso was smiling, like he found Octavius’s moping to be very humorous.
“Will you let us know when the plane gets to Shanghai?” Fola asked the prince.
