Page 3 of Royal Bastard

1

Evie

Present Day

“Why are people so rude?” I grumbled to myself. Yet another tall man in a business suit pushed by me and almost spilled my coffee in the process.

I was barely over five and half feet tall, maybe that was it, I wondered. My shoulders hunched as I tried to make myself less of a target for others who didn’t mind shoving people as long as they made progress.

I sighed and looked around for the building I needed. I was familiar with the city, but not the address, and I didn’t want to be late. Today was the first day of my new life. A life where I was in charge and in control. I smoothed back a stray wisp of blond hair, knowing the silky tresses would have escaped the French twist before I made it through the day.

It was a style suggested by the makeover artist provided by the program. “It gives every woman an air of sophistication and mystery, my dear. Just use more hairspray.”

That had been the advice the older woman had given me, before she patted me on the head and moved on to the next trainee while I did as instructed and sprayed more hairspray on my unruly hair. There were six of us in the first batch of the Second Chance program. Four women and two men, all with different stories to tell, but all with hopes for a better future. We’d been given a budget for new work attire, new hairstyles, and for transportation to and from work. Rather than using my transportation fare for the bus or a taxi, I’d decided to save it and walk to work.

I decided that was a silly idea about halfway there. The nude colored heels I wore might make my calves look fantastic, but they pinched my toes, and I knew eight hours and another walk back to my tiny apartment would see the shoes in the back of my closet, never to be taken out again. I could always wear my trainers to walk in, and replace them before I went into the building, but I knew it was far more likely I’d dig out my old, comfortable loafers and wear those instead.

I’d wanted to present an air of professionalism—a complete and utter lie—but I was going to work in a law firm as a trainee to one of the paralegals there. The program aimed to introduce us to jobs our aptitude tests showed we’d be most proficient in. If we found we liked the work, we’d be given proper training. Obviously, some of that would require a university education, but the program would pay for all of it.

This was my first day, and my first job. Ever. I felt nervous and my foot skidded along the pavement as my ankles weakened at the thought. My palms began to sweat, and my heart skipped around which made it hard to breathe.

This wasn’t the life I was supposed to have, this wasn’t how it was all supposed to end. I had to stop between two glass-fronted buildings to catch my breath and escape the pressing crowd of thousands of people on their way to their own jobs. Anxiety made my stomach flutter and I felt nauseous. I steadied myself against a wall and let my head fall. Breathe in, breathe out. I repeated the mantra in my mind, and when I felt calm again, I brought to mind my little girls.

Violet and Dahlia. My twin little flowers. My world. Smiling blue eyes and blond hair, with chubby little cheeks that they hated. At six, they were still too young to be concerned with looks but everybody wanted to pinch their identical cheeks and they hated it. I hadn’t seen them since the final custody hearing three months ago, but I knew exactly how they looked. Aaron, my ex-husband, had to send me a picture of them every day, as part of the legal ruling, and I brought the latest picture up on my phone as I leaned back against the wall. I didn’t care if the black suit—second-hand but almost brand-new—became stained or wrinkled.

If I didn’t get myself calm, I’d never be able to face the rest of the day, and if I didn’t make it to the first day, I’d be out of the program. I needed this opportunity if I wanted to get my girls back. I needed it if I wanted to spend even a small amount of time with them in visitation. I didn’t even have that right now but it was my first goal.

I tried not to think about Aaron, to let anger dictate the course of my thoughts, but it was him and his new wife who had turned my world upside down. We’d married seven years ago, but we’d been together since I was seventeen. He’d been the golden-haired, six-foot-tall, and handsome as sin college boy, the older man all of my high school friends had envied me for having when he’d come to pick me up from school. I’d been his girl and he’d been all I wanted from the world. I’d been timid, impressionable, awed by his status.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at my own stupidity. I’d allowed him to be the one in charge, to make decisions for me. The first time I’d slept with him I was eighteen. He’d said, “I love you,” and I’d allowed him to do as he wanted without a protest. I hadn’t protested when he didn’t wear a condom; he was older, he knew best, right? He loved me, he wouldn’t get me pregnant and leave me. And he hadn’t, left me that is. He’d got me pregnant, and I’d barely been able to finish high school before I was a married woman with two infants to care for. Aaron hadn’t left me though, I’d been right about that part.

Well, for a while, anyway. I’d been spent six years as the merry, if somewhat bored, housewife, washing his clothes, raising his kids, and supplying the once-weekly demand for sex, before he left me one shocker of a night. He’d come home from his security guard job, a job he’d taken when I’d revealed my pregnancy, and told me he didn’t want to be my husband anymore and that I had to leave because his girlfriend was on her way over.

I’d stared at him, stunned, mortified, and hurt, but he wouldn’t look me in the eye.

“What do you mean you want me to leave? What girlfriend? I’m your wife, you don’t get to have a girlfriend.” Normally, I wouldn’t have given him that much protest, but I’d been shocked.

His father had disowned him when he’d quit college and given up his dream of being a doctor to marry me instead. There’d been no money to help us, no cushion for us to rely on, and his relationship was still strained with his father. I’d given Aaron my subservience the moment he married me. I’d been his dutiful little wife, out of guilt. I’d done whatever he asked or told me to do, and that night had been the first time I actually stood up for myself, even if it was to only ask a question.

“Get your shit and get out. Why is that so hard to understand, Evie?” He’d growled the words at me, but he still hadn’t looked at me with those blue eyes that I’d adored for years.

“I think you need to be the one who leaves, Aaron. The girls have just gone to sleep, I can’t wake them up now and drag them off into the night just because you want to bring your—I can’t believe I’m even saying this—girlfriend over here. We have nowhere to go!” Anger had started to build as it all became clear. He wasn’t just being a butthole, and this wasn’t a joke. He was serious.

“Who said anything about taking the girls with you? I said get your shit and get out. Not the girls.” He’d finally looked at me and the coldness and hatred in his eyes had made me step back.

“But… they’re my girls…” I’d tried to protest but his forceful steps had made me crawl back to the wall of our kitchen, a kitchen I’d spent hours decorating and cared for with love and pride. Now, I sought the walls out as a refuge from Aaron’s rage.

“They’re mine, and soon they’ll be Tracy’s. They’ll forget about you, they’re young enough. Now get the fuck out of my house. Or I’ll throw you out.” He’d been so close, so angry, that his spit freckled my face as he spoke. He didn’t hit me, but I’d cringed. He’d never hit me, he didn’t have to hit a wife who was so obedient, but for the first time, I feared he might.

I wanted to ask him if he was crazy? I wanted to demand he get out, and leave us all in peace, but that look on his face frightened me. Maybe I could reason with him?

“I don’t have any money.” That was true. I’d never worked a single day of my life since we’d married, and I had no one that could give me any. I had absolutely nowhere to go. “Aaron, I can’t believe this, baby. Where did this come from? Who is Tracy? Baby, we can work this out, surely?”

I’d pleaded with him, I’d tried to touch his face, to remind him that I was his sweet little Evie, but he pushed away with a look of disgust. I was desperate, and my husband had just turned my world upside down. One minute, we were living a boring but comfortable life, the next, I could see violence and hate on his face. He clenched his hands as he took a step back towards me, and I darted away from the wall and headed into the living room.

I grabbed up my purse, my cell phone, and ran for the door as he’d stalked into the room behind me, his fists clenching and unclenching as he stared me down, his face twisted with hate. What had I done to deserve this? Tears broke from my eyes as I stared back at the man I’d loved all my adult life. I’d been everything he’d demanded of me, but none of it had been good enough.

“Aaron…” I’d tried to make one last protest, but he’d bellowed in rage and put his fist through the sheetrock of the wall. Our wedding photo clattered to the floor. I’d run for the door and out of it before he could say anything more.