Alexander exhales, and I can’t tell if it’s full of relief or frustration. “You have my word that you will be taken care of for the rest of your life, in the manner to which you are currently accustomed. You are still family, Venetia, regardless of what this document says.”
Venetia closes her eyes for a long moment, and when she opens them again, they’re focused directly on me. “This is your fault,” she whispers, but there’s no fight behind it anymore. Just quiet resignation. “If you hadn’t come here, none of this would’ve happened.”
Her words are so eerily reminiscent of Maisie’s that it takes me a moment to swallow the knot that forms in my throat. “No, it’s not,” I manage. “It’s Ben’s fault. He’s the one who chose to do this, and he won’t stop until one of us is dead.”
“And I assure you,” says Alexander, “that person will not be Evangeline.”
The cords in Venetia’s neck stand out, and at last she picks up the fountain pen and signs on the dotted line with an angry flourish.
“I love my son,” she says, fury dripping from every word as she caps the pen and sets it down with inhuman control.
“And I love my daughters,” says Alexander.
“Daughter. Singular,” snaps Venetia as she stands. “You only have one, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Alexander rises with her, though it takes him a moment as he struggles to fully support himself on his bad leg. “I’ve known I wasn’t Maisie’s biological father from the moment Helene told me she was pregnant. But Maisie has been mine from the day she was born, regardless of biology, and it has never changed how much I love her. It has never changed how much any of us have loved her.”
Venetia tosses her blond waves over her shoulder and, without another word, turns to go. The three of us—Alexander, Singh, and I—watch her strut nearly the full length of the office before she stops in her tracks, turning toward us once more.
“Evangeline was born first, wasn’t she?” she says. “What are you going to do about that, Alex? Lie to the public some more?”
“It’s just a crown, Vee,” says Alexander with a sigh. “And a heavy one at that. Let’s all agree it’s ruined enough lives for now and leave it there, shall we?”
A hint of something—victory, maybe, or rage-fueled madness—flashes in Venetia’s eyes, and this time, when she starts toward the exit again, she doesn’t stop.
We all watch her go, and as soon as the double doors close behind her, my shoulders slump, and Alexander sinks back into his seat.
“Well, that was easy,” says Singh, plucking the paper from the desk and examining it. “Even signed and dated in the right place.”
“Give it to Jenkins. He’ll make sure it reaches the right hands,” says Alexander, and he turns to me. “Evan, do you have a moment? It’s important.”
He knows I have a moment. He knows I have the whole damn day, and even if I didn’t—even if I had to run out to some charity appearance or interview—he’s the King. I can’t exactly tell him I have something more important to do, as tempting as it is right now.
But at the same time, I know that if I did make up an excuse, he would let me go. It’s my choice whether to stay, and part of me—a big part—is tired of being upset. I’m sick of feeling like a guillotine is hanging over me, ready to sever the bonds I’ve spent the past year and a half creating with people I now love. I’m ready for this hell to end, one way or the other, and so reluctantly, I nod.
Singh quickly collects the various folders and documents splayed out on Alexander’s desk, snapping them all into a leather briefcase before hurrying out the door. Once he’s gone, I perch in the second chair in front of my father’s desk, the one that hasn’t been warmed by Venetia for the past half hour.
“Why did you want me here for that?” I say once we’re alone. “Sounds like you already had her cornered.”
Alexander raises a single shoulder in a shrug. “I asked you here because nearly all of our evidence involved you, eitherdirectly or indirectly, and I wanted Venetia to look at you—reallylookat you—and make her choice.”
“So you were manipulating her,” I say. That makes much more sense than wanting me here for any other reason.
“I didn’t want to give her an opportunity to forget all the harm her son has caused,” corrects Alexander gently. “And, most important, I wanted you to see the result of everything you’ve had to endure at Ben’s hands. While this was all Ben’s choice from the beginning, you are the reason this…agreement happened.”
In a perfect world, none of this would’ve happened at all. I hug my knees to my chest. “Why did you choose to stay with Maisie?”
I’ve asked the question before—sort of, in the white drawing room the day the whole Maisie mess exploded—but this time, I don’t try to talk over him or ask a barrage of questions that I now know aren’t so easy to answer. Alexander takes his time, seeming to sense that I’m willing to give it to him.
“Do you remember your first full day here?” he says at last. “The conversation we had just before the investiture ceremony?”
“Right after Constance called me a mangy stray at a dog show? Sure. Hard to forget.”
He grimaces. “Do you remember how that conversation ended? When I told you that all I wanted was to shield you from the consequences of my greatest mistake, and you—”
“Didn’t take it well? Yeah,” I say, a sour taste filling my mouth. “Sort of hard to interpret that any other way than me being your greatest mistake.”
“I was afraid that’s what you took away from that,” he says,rubbing his eyes wearily. “You were not my greatest mistake, Evie. You are and always have been my greatest joy.”
