Amelia
When I wake up, Nicolas is already gone.
Strangely, it feels wrong, and the feeling of disappointment rises in me, even though he has no obligation toward me.
So, I spend the day with Lizzy and my future mother-in-law, which actually feels good.
Tomorrow is the civil ceremony, and the day after comes the grand church wedding and a massive reception.
Just thinking about it twists my stomach and makes my hands break into a sweat.
I’m scared of what those days will bring, especially because I have no idea what to expect from Nicolas.
That’s why I welcome the distraction of simply being a regular young woman for once. Shopping, chatting, having coffee. Nicolas’s mother makes it easy for me, and I actually manage to relax a little.
But the moment I return to the castle and enter our apartment, I know something is wrong.
Nicolas is packing a bag without even glancing at me. No greeting, not a single word. My stomach sinks, and I fidget with my hands, unsure of what to do. Still, I choose to give him space. I do not know him well enough to read him properly.
But when he tries to leave the apartment without a word and with the bag in hand, I cannot hold myself back.
“What is going on? Where are you going?” It just slips out, because something here feels deeply wrong.
He freezes in place and slowly turns his head toward me. And I swear I feel my whole body going cold as our eyes meet. His gaze is cold, hard, and furious.
“I do not see how that is any of your business. We are not married yet, Goldilocks. So don’t wait up for me.”
His voice is cold and shut off, and it hits me hard because I truly believed we were beyond this. Clearly, I was mistaken.
My expression goes blank as I simply nod. Then he walks out and leaves me behind with a storm of unanswered questions and a sinking feeling in my gut.
Hours later, I scroll through my Instagram feed and my heart skips a beat when a photo catches my eye. It shows my future husband, but I am not the one sitting on his lap. Instead, it is Sarah, that bitch.
It’s hard to tell if they are kissing, but it’s obvious he is not at The Purge. Instead, he’s at the Royals Club. Still, it’s not the image itself that cuts the deepest, even though it pains me greatly to see it. What truly makes my stomach churn are the comments below.
Has he already dumped the Perlington bitch?
So the rumors are true, and he finally realized it
Get rid of the whore. Go Sarah, go
That other slut should be hanged for coming between them!
The knot in my stomach tightens.
Because I cannot help myself, I go to Sarah’s profile and click on the first video. I have to swallow hard.
Nicolas smiles at the camera, holding her close as she kisses him. A shout sounds from the background. Nicolas spins around, stumbles, and drags Sarah with him as they both collapse onto the couch behind them.
My heart pounds fiercely in my chest and, heaven knows, it aches to witness this. What hurts most is not understanding why he’s acting this way when he promised to protect me.
He has declared me fair game, making them even more likely to come after me. If Henry finds out about this, he will kill me.
My stomach twists violently, and the fear I had barely managed to hold back until now crashes over me in full force.
I set my phone down and rise, moving to sit by the large window that looks out onto the park.
Tomorrow I am supposed to marry Nicolas. From the way things look, he has changed his mind. I’m going to have to protect myself.
My heart feels heavy and the weight on my chest is overwhelming. Yet I sit quietly, gazing up at the sky.
I can do this.
I have to do this.
I do not have another choice.
Eventually, my eyes grow heavy. I shuffle back to bed and fall into a restless sleep.
Henry’s hand grips my hair and yanks me violently out of bed.
“I told you not to mess this up. And what do you do, you stupid bitch?” The pain exploding on my scalp is intense, but nothing compared to when he swings his fist and hits me in the stomach. All the air is forced out of my lungs, I whimper and collapse forward.
God, it hurts. So badly.
“Please… Henry, no… please.” But my pleading goes unheard. On the contrary, it only fuels him even more. He undoes his belt and drags me to his chair, and I struggle. My toes dig into the carpet, but it’s no use. None at all.
Tears stream down my face as he bends me over the chair. He presses his hand to my neck and leans over me.
“If you move even one inch, I will kill you. Understand?”
I nod. I just nod.
He has been drinking again. A lot. His meeting did not go as planned, and then I spilled coffee in front of his business partners, right on one of the men’s shirts. At the time he laughed it off, but now, hours later, I am paying the price.
I hear the belt sliding free from his pants loops and squeeze my eyes shut.
“You know you deserve this, don’t you, Amelia?” he asks into the silence, but it is purely rhetorical. He does not want an answer from me.
Silently I wait for what is coming and press my lips tightly together as my back bursts into flames. As he strikes me blow after blow.
“DON’T”
Strike
“YOU”
Strike
“EVER”
Strike
“DO”
Strike
“THAT”
Strike
“AGAIN!”
Strike
My back is on fire, making me feel like I’m being torn apart. My fingers and nails dig deep into the wood of the chair as darkness creeps into my vision.
“You”
Strike
“Deserve”
Strike
“This”
Strike
My brother pants heavily while acid spreads through my mouth. I gag and my stomach twists painfully. I feel sick and as if I’m being torn apart. But Henry is far from finished.
More and more blows keep landing on me. Over and over again. Breaking me. Breaking my soul.
And in the end, I scream before everything fades to black.
Gasping and completely drenched in sweat, I sit up and blink. My breath comes in short, choppy bursts, and I can feel that my cheeks are wet. My heart is racing, and I feel sick. So incredibly sick.
Inhale. Exhale.
Inhale. Exhale.
With my hand pressed to my chest, I keep taking deep, steady breaths, but the disgusting, suffocating feeling just won’t go away.
A dream. It was a dream, my subconscious tries to convince me, but I know better. It’s not a dream. It’s real. This is my reality.
Inhale. Exhale.
Slowly, my pulse begins to settle, but the cruelty Henry is capable of still clings to me.
A knock at the door pulls me out of my thoughts, and I reach for my robe.
“One moment,” I call, and Lizzy groans impatiently outside before throwing the door open.
“It’s me, and I’ve seen you in way less than a sleep shirt,” she snaps, giving me a once-over with raised eyebrows. “Uh, why are you still in bed?”
I stare at her, confused, and she actually rolls her eyes, rushes over, and yanks the blanket off me.
“Come on, chop-chop. We don’t have much time. I thought you’d already showered and gotten ready,” she scolds, and I look at her even more bewildered. I notice the elegant lilac dress she’s wearing, her perfectly styled hair, the makeup, and she’s glaring at me.
And then I realize.
“Oh shit. I’m getting married today,” I blurt out, horrified, and now I really feel like throwing up.
Nicolas and the events of yesterday come crashing back into my mind, and I feel a lump forming in my throat. Lizzy narrows her eyes, studying me.
“What? I know that look. What happened?”
Without a word, I hand her my phone, open Instagram, show her the photo and the video, and briefly explain what happened. I avoid looking at her.
“Goddamn it. I’ll kill him,” she growls through clenched teeth before her eyes soften as she looks at me again.
“We’ve got this. Forget that idiot. I’m going to get you ready, you’ll go sign those papers, and you’re going to give him a big mental middle finger. Then we’ll go out and celebrate. With security. Like good girls. He can stay wherever the hell he is. I’ll deal with him later.”
She nods, convincing herself, and shoos me toward the bathroom with a wave of her hand. After I shower, she takes my hand and leads me to the dressing room.
There’s no time to think about what’s about to happen. She talks nonstop while doing my hair and makeup.
She ties my curls into a loose bun, with a few strands falling softly, then adds white blossoms at the back. She hands me a garment bag containing a beautiful white off-the-shoulder sheath dress, its waist trimmed with shimmering blue lace, then gives me matching blue heels with lace detailing.
When I’m fully dressed, she claps her hands, delighted.
“You look absolutely stunning, Lia. He’s going to eat his words when he sees you.”
She grabs my hands and looks me over again, from head to toe, beaming.
I wish I felt the same way. But my stomach is in knots, my nerves frayed. I just want to run.
“He’s not going to care. I just want to get this over with. And then I need a lot of alcohol,” I say with zero enthusiasm. Lizzy’s smile fades into seriousness.
“He’ll realize what a fool he is. And the ceremony, if you can even call it that, takes fifteen minutes. Then there’s a quick photo you’ll take for the press, and that’s it. Afterward, we disappear, and the rest of the world can kiss our asses. Including my brother. Okay?”
She hugs me tightly, and I take a deep breath.
“Okay. Let’s go. The faster I get out of here, the better.”
Lizzy takes my hand again, and together we walk to the official conference room where the notary, the king, the queen, and Nicolas are already waiting.
My heart pounds as we enter, and all eyes turn to me. The king seems unusually distant, which only heightens my nerves, but the queen greets me with a warm smile and pulls me into a hug.
“Don’t let it get to you, sweetheart. I’m happy you’re joining the family. Certain people in this room will eventually come to appreciate it too,” she whispers, holding me close.
The lump in my throat eases slightly at her words, and when she lets go, I give her a grateful smile.
Nicolas is already at the desk, his gaze piercing me, but I ignore him.
The notary explains the procedure and asks us both if we agree. My hand trembles as I sign. Nicolas signs next, followed by the king and the notary.
We’re officially congratulated as husband and wife, though here in Harlington, only the church wedding is considered the true royal marriage. This is just a formality.
The king and queen are the first to offer their congratulations. The king’s look is so intimidating it makes me flinch, ever so slightly.
God, I need to get out of here. Now.
The photographer arrives a moment later, and I stand there with a racing pulse and a queasy stomach as Nicolas walks up to me. His intense gaze locks onto mine, and this time, I don’t look away. I meet it, cold and silent.
But then he steps behind me, placing his hand on my waist, and I can’t stop the shiver that runs down my spine. He pulls me against his solid body, and my senses go haywire.
Damn it. I don’t want to feel this.
I force a tight smile for the photo and pray it’s over quickly.
As soon as the photographer nods, I turn away from Nicolas, scanning the room for Lizzy, but suddenly her brother is standing in front of me again.
“We need to talk…”
I raise my hand, cutting him off.
“No, we don’t. I’ve done my part for today, and as you made very clear yesterday, the rest is none of my business. So please excuse me. I have plans.”
I’m proud of how calm and dismissive my voice sounds. I walk past him without looking back, hurrying to the door where Lizzy is already waiting.
Screw this prince.