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“Hi, you’ve reached Isabella Medina. Please leave a message after the⁠—”

I hang up. I can’t leave a message. What would I say? I’m sorry I’m a monster, but can you please come back?

I feel a hollow ache in my chest. I keep thinking about the beach, about the way she held me as my heart pounded and my chest tightened until I couldn’t breathe, the way she looked in the firelight as she sat beside me and listened.

And I keep seeing her face in my father’s study as she walked out. White as paper. One hand pressed flat against her stomach like she was holding herself together. I was too angry to ask. I don’t know what I would have done if she had answered.

I wanted that. And for a few hours, I actually believed I could have it.

I should be calling the board and telling them the crisis is over. I should be prepping a team for the announcement. I should be standing at the head of this company, steering it through the storm to the clear skies in the distance. But the only thing I seem to be able to do is stare at that damn blinking cursor and file name.

If I press send, our problems are over. I’ll have saved the company and the King name. If I send it to my press contact, there’s no going back. The lie becomes the truth, and I’ve sealed my soul’s fate.

And Isabella will never look at me again.

“What the fuck are you doing, Sebastian?”

I'm instantly on my feet as my father explodes into the room, fighting the instincts that are screaming at me to fix my tie and to stand up straight. I wish I didn't know what he’s talking about, but of course, I do.

“I'm managing the situation,” I respond coolly.

“The situation?” He slams a hand down on my desk, causing various lightweight items to jump. “The stock is down 18 percent. The SEC is sniffing around. And now I’m hearing that you're worried about severance packages for people who are suing us?”

“If we're going to let them take the fall for our mistakes, the least we can do is make sure their families are taken care of.”

“Don't you dare talk to me about mistakes,” my father snarls.

Even now, even when I know he's the one who set me up to take the fall, that he's willing to let me go to prison to protect himself and Jesse, he still can't admit he's done anything wrong.

“We wouldn't even be in this situation if you'd handled it properly from the beginning. You're weak, Sebastian. I gave you this role because I thought you finally had the stomach for it. But look at you. You're worrying about two people who don't mean shit, putting us in the line of fire. You let that PR girl get into your head, didn't you?”

“Isabella has nothing to do with this,” I snarl. It's a warning, but of course, Dad doesn't notice.

“Don’t lie to me! I heard she walked out on you last night. You let her see the play, didn’t you? You let her see the gears turning. You’re soft, Sebastian. You’ve always been soft. You think you can be a King and a good man at the same time? There’s no such thing.”

He leans over the desk, his face inches from mine. I can smell his expensive cigars and cologne.

All of a sudden, I’m fourteen again and standing in the library of our estate in Greenwich. I’ve just been sent home from Exeter because I refused to name the boys who had stolen the headmaster’s car and taken it out for a joyride.

I talked about honor and loyalty. My father had looked at me with the same expression, a mixture of anger and disgust. His answer then had been to call me a fucked-up failure, telling me I would cause him to lose everything one day. He had told me that loyalty was a term used by those at the bottom in order to make themselves feel better, because they knew they would never make it to the top.

“I knew you would fuck this up someday. I knew I should have kicked you out when I had the chance.” Dad starts pacing, the anger on his face billowing out around him like a storm cloud. “You're bringing our legacy to its knees. Everything I've built. Everything your grandfather built. And all because you think a couple of nobodies deserve your guilt? The fact that you think you have something to feel guilty about tells me everything I need to know about your lack of ability to run this company.”

“It's not just about them.” I keep my voice level, despite the white-hot rage and shame spiraling through me.

He stops pacing. “So what is it about then? Your soul?” He sneers. “You're a King, Sebastian. You can't afford to have a soul. Release the report, bury those two beneath so much litigation they'll never see the light of day and lie until they believe you, or I will have you out of your seat by sundown.”

Dad adjusts his shoulders like he's shrugging off his disappointment in me, his oldest son, his supposed heir, who he's looking at like a piece of broken equipment that failed him.

“You couldn't even keep a woman,” he says, his voice taking on a cruel tone. “She saw right through you, didn't she? She saw that you don't have the spine to be a villain, nor do you have the heart to be a hero. She saw that you're nothing, Sebastian. And now everyone else is going to see it, too.”

He turns and storms out.

He’s right, I'm not him. I’ve spent my entire life trying to prove that I was good enough for him, but not as cold and cruel. Yet in the end, all I became is a poor copy that failed at everything. I doctored the letter. I betrayed people who trusted me. And I did it knowing full well that my father is the one who set me up to take the fall. He looked me in the eye, told me I was a failure, and that it was all my fault, even though we both know he was the one behind it all.

And perhaps the worst part is I've lost the only woman who ever saw the real me, or at least the man I want to become, because I was too afraid to let go of a crown that's crushing me under its weight.

I accused Isabella of not believing in me when I needed her the most. I expected her to follow me down that dark hole without any hesitation. I betrayed her in every way possible out of fear, turning into the man that, not twenty-four hours before, I promised her I would never be. I became the monster at the first test of her trust.