36
Vincent Hawthorne
A fter last night, I am the happiest I’ve ever felt. There is—honestly—little that could sour my mood. The world can be entirely against us, but I’ve chosen her, and that won’t change.
I love her.
I had some suspicions that it was reciprocated because of the way she always melted into my touch and gave in to my whims. Still, it was never as impactful as hearing it from her mouth. My heart felt like it was going to burst. That soaring feeling everyone brags about has finally caught up with me for the first time.
A short, curt knock sounds from the door just a second short of it being open, without given permission.
“We have matters to discuss,” my mother informs me while entering my office as if she owns it.
Bad habits die hard.
Mother and I had breakfast together earlier this morning. With Camilla still asleep, I had Mariah take care of it since my mother insisted on being here bright and early to get everything started for her birthday party.
Her expression seems determined, and her edges are set hard, almost making her look like she is made of stone. She has kept the same poker face ever since she entered manor.
I don’t know what her goal is today, but whatever it is, it won’t make me change my mind. Even if it’s her birthday today, I won’t budge.
A decision has been made.
There is only one way to be with Camilla: stepping down from my title and living a normal, humble life with her. Edgar can have it all instead.
It’s not like any of this is what I wanted or asked for. But I want her . And all I ask for is to have her, to be happy with her.
Camilla has no idea, though. She’d probably feel guilty and try to talk me out of it, thinking I’d be giving up too much for someone who doesn’t deserve it.
She deserves it and more. There isn’t any wealth in this world that’d make me not choose her. After confessing our feelings to each other, there isn’t any other possible way.
Love . I love her, and she didn't even hesitate to tell me she loved me back.
To live in a world where I can’t freely be with her, touch her, or love her is a form of torture and constant agony.
“Still not following protocol to enter my office?” I ask rhetorically.
My eyes stay focused on the paperwork I am reading and signing. To give my mother full attention is letting her know she holds power over someone—me—when she doesn’t. Not anymore. And with the behaviour she has been showing for the last half a year, she doesn’t deserve my attention. She barely deserves my respect.
Still, it’s her birthday today, and I am not that cruel. I’ll tell her the news tomorrow.
“My informant has told me the child died.”
My hand freezes, and I finally look at her. “Child?”
“The king’s son. A stillborn.” A sick smile forces its way on her face.
A child perished, and she is glad?
“I’ll make sure to send my condolences to him,” I answer.
No matter the meaning behind the child’s death, a father losing their offspring is something I wish for no one in this world. I may not have my kids yet, but just the mere thought of Camilla going through a traumatic birth and losing the result of our love feels crippling to me.
From my mother’s expression, that is the least of her concerns. I know what she’s hinting at, but I won’t fall for her bait.
“I was also informed…” she trails off, trying to get my attention. When I finally look at her, her smile stretches as she adds, “He’s on his deathbed. Two more days, at most.”
This time around, my eyes widen. That can’t be. Fuck no!
“I see that has caught your attention.” She smirks.
I can’t wait any longer to tell her…
“Mother,” I start. “We need to talk–”
“ Yes, we do,” she interrupts me with a tut. “Before we start, why don’t you pour your mother a drink?”
Standing up, I head to the corner where my drinks and glasses are perfectly arranged, pouring us both some whisky. I prefer Port, but she has always been a whisky person.
Just as she brings the glass to her lips, nursing on it, I spit it out, “I want to abdicate.”
It’s better to just rip the band-aid out, right?
Silence. She blinks once, then twice. “What?”
“To step down. Renounce. Quit. Mainly, to hand over the responsibilities to Edgar, to be precise.”
Our eyes are unwavering, locking on each other, and I can almost see her emotions going through them. The silence stretches for an uncomfortably long time until her smile—the sickly sweet one—comes out.
“I knew it.” She smiles, bringing her purse up and placing it on the desk. “You were distancing yourself, and I had a feeling…”
“It’s not what you think, Mother,” I start. “I never wanted any of this-”
“Oh, but it is,” she cuts me off, opening her purse. “That is why I’ve come prepared.”
“Prepared?” I ask, dumbfounded. “Can you stop what you’re doing, look at me, and listen. I am telling you, I don’t want this–”
“Shut up,” she booms, her hand hitting the hardwood desk.
I freeze, shocked.
Sarah was always a harsh woman, but she has never lost her composure like that. Never.
I raise my hands in a sign of defeat, letting her take the upper hand. Meanwhile, I watch her every move as her bony hands finally find the brown envelope inside her bag and bring it out.
She places it on the smooth, dark surface between us. Her eyes lock on mine once more. That evil glint I’ve seen so many times aimed at others is finally aimed at me. It’s piercing, freezing my bones with her disdain. How can she even look at me like that?
What’s inside?
“Just in case this would happen, which it did in the end…” she trails off, and my eyes dart up from the brown envelope to her. “I’ve decided to take some precautions to keep you on track and remind you of what’s important.”
“What do you mean?” I grit out, my jaw locked with the frustration of her words.
What is she trying to get at?
“You’re just like your father.” She sighs. “A man who loves deeply and dreams hard. I had to bring him back to reality very often, and I won’t be afraid to do the same to you.”
Her frail fingers press on the envelope, pushing it closer to me, beckoning me to open it. Inside my chest, my heart skyrockets. My mother has always been a woman of goals. Cold-hearted? Sure, but it never crossed my mind she could be cruel . And certainly not cruel to her son. I never considered questioning her morality.
Not until this point.
Willing my hands not to shake, I pick it up and rip the edge. A set of four white and thick papers are placed inside. A frown etches my face as I spare a confused glance at my mother. They’re empty.
“Turn them around,” she orders coldly.
And as I do, I let my expression slip for a second. A second too long because she notices the widening in my eyes, the clenching of my fist, and the sharp intake of breath I take. That one second is enough to bring my resolve to the ground. Dig it in a hole and bury it six feet under because I now know what her goal is.
I’ve been careless, dismissing her by being too focused on my feelings. Too blind to see her as a real problem, as a real threat. Love is blind, they say.
Now I understand.
“How–” I cut myself off. I can’t even finish my question.
There’s no need to. Mother dearest knows exactly what I mean.
“Not hard with how careless you are,” she scoffs, taking one more sip of her whisky. “You men are all the same. The only thinking you do is with the wrong head.”
The four pictures that had been in my hand fall to the desk. The quality is not that good because of the strong zooming system, with a long-distance camera for sure. But they’re clear enough to show the both of us. On the first, Camilla is undressing for me while I sit at my desk. The one right next to it, has Camilla deepthroating me as I fist her hair. The third, with Camilla on her hands and knees while I fuck her from behind. And the last…with Camilla wrapping her arms around my neck, tight, as we kiss hungrily.
All those moments I can easily place them in my memory. Every moment spent together has been...unforgettable. But as I look at these pictures, they are perfectly taken and—most probably—purposely picked to make her look like a seductress. A deviant woman who is trying her hardest to get her prize. The lottery.
The most important man right after the king.
“This is just cruel,” I whisper, defeated.
My mother’s cheeks redden, and her hand slams on the desk again, answering me with a booming voice, “Cruel is to have a half-assed Asian little girl, a simple maid, to come around and manipulate you into renouncing what’s rightfully ours just so she can have a lavish life.”
Many years ago, I’d cower to this version of her. Not anymore and especially not after this stunt. I can’t help but chuckle, a strong but bitter laugh escaping me, making her frown.
“Half-assed Asian? A little girl? A simple maid?” I seethe. “She might not have the blue blood you so truly desire, nor the titles, but she’s ten times the woman you’ll ever be!”
My head swivels to the side upon impact. The unexpected hit is a clear response to my provocation, but I still show no reaction, simply holding my jaw and slowly massaging it.
“See?” She seethes, standing up. “This is why! You’re completely blinded by lust!”
“I am in love ,” I yell, punching the desk, feeling it giving in underneath my knuckles. “And your words...Rightfully ours? If that kid died and the king is about to follow, what do you think? You’ll become queen? You’re my mother. It’s my future wife who will become queen. Not you !”
“Listen here…” Rounding the desk, she matches my stance, pointing her index at my chest. “You either do as I say, when I say, and how I say, or else I’ll drag your little whore through the mud. I have two people I entrusted with all the information that could destroy her. They have one hell of a story in their possession…how she manipulated and brainwashed you into stepping down, just so you could give her the life she so desperately wanted. You choose her instead of me…if you cross me, you’ll have nothing to love in the end.”
Her voice twists mockingly at the mention of love, and it just cracks my heart.
“No.”
“No?” She laughs. “Look at those pictures, Vincent, and tell me what you see. I see an enthralled, innocent man being played by an opportunist. I can see the headlines already. Want to hear them?”
I shake my head, but she ignores it, quoting, “‘Housekeeper gets settled for life after sleazing into the duke’s bed’ or do you prefer ‘Golddigger: Maid manages to seduce the second most powerful man in the kingdom’.”
She’s none of those.
I pursued her, not the other way around. It’s not fair that she has to deal with the consequences of my actions. And I knew this world was not fair, but this…
And coming from my mother of all people. It’s devastating.
The betrayal and grudge are mixing into my DNA, bringing that furious, uncontrollable side of me out. The one that wants to destroy everything just to protect her.
Massaging my forehead, I try to contain it. The woman before me is still my mother, no matter how much she is hurting me right now…No matter how much I learn to hate her.
“She’ll be devastated. I’ve seen how fragile she is,” she taunts, breaking the long silence. “Even if you choose her, she’ll hate you for bringing this upon the both of you.”
Camilla is not fragile, but this kind of accusation would destroy her and her reputation. It’s not just about her life in the manor anymore. It’s about her life in Monera, in the world.
As much as I want to be selfish and not give in to my mother’s blackmailing, being the reason for her life to be miserable is not an option either. If this goes public, she’ll be shattered.
I can’t be the cause of that.
And that is all it takes for her words to fill every crevice of my brain...
Your Grace, I don’t think this is a good idea.
Blurring the lines the way we did will only make life harder for us.
We don’t belong together.
This is wrong.
Vincent, we shouldn’t...
She tried to warn me. Camilla knew the consequences could be bad, but I was too fucking selfish to worry about them. What could happen? Having someone finding out about us? It’s not like it would bother me. What does bother me is to have it twisted and manipulated to taint the world’s perception of her.
Camilla is gentle and kind. She would never—ever—use someone for her gain. If there was someone who took advantage of their status and disregarded everything else, it was me.
I was the one thinking I could be invincible and untouchable just because of some stupid title. The worst? The betrayal didn’t even come from someone warranted; it came from my family, from my own mother.
Bloody hell, just the mere thought of one sunrise without that annoying hair tickling my nose, of her warm skin wrapped around mine, is enough to sear my soul. To have them every day for the rest of my life? I’ll be in constant purgatory.
By choosing her and giving it all up, will she be able to go through all the scrutiny? It’ll be suffocating, degrading, and humiliating. She could end up resenting me, too.
More than that, am I so worthy in this world that she has to go through all of that just for love? It doesn’t matter how many different ways I try to think of this, only one possible outcome comes to my mind,
Camilla doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve the problems and complications that my world carries. What she deserves is a good man who can make her happy and give her everything she deserves.
My eyes shut tightly, and my mouth thins in a grim straight line as I decide.
I’d rather be miserable my entire life than...make her miserable.
“If I do as you say, you’ll leave her out of this?” I question pointedly.
My eyelids raise, letting my irises lock on my mother’s, and her hazel eyes sparkle with delight. The same sparkle I’ve seen growing up every time my father gave in to her. Something I used to enjoy watching, him making her happy, has me now doubting my entire life.
What kind of manipulation and threats did she use on him?
Did they even love each other?
I am very well aware that marriages are still contracts of interest for the families, instead of being about love. But I thought that my parents were friends, or had learnt to love each other with time. It makes me sick to my stomach to think my entire life was a lie, and to think that my father lived his entire life miserable.
“You have my word,” she says with a smirk.
All I can do is hope…hope that her word is enough .