38
Camilla White
M y ears are buzzing, locking out the outside noise. There’s an excruciating pain thudding through my skull as my heart burns down to ashes. Still, as my shaky hands grip Edgar’s forearm, I keep the tears at bay.
I will not grant them that satisfaction.
This is the last thing I expected from him .
After everything and all the conversations we had, I expected honesty. I expected him to have the courage to tell me to my face that we were done.
It was too much to think that Vincent Hawthorne had the balls to grab the bull by the horns.
Ultimately, he showed me exactly how much I mean to him— nothing. I am a mere nuisance, like an insignificant weed that must be pulled from a beautiful garden.
Worse, he gave that responsibility to someone else. His mother of all people.
Of course, he did. That’s what people like him do.
These so-called blue-blooded royals consider themselves too good for the rest of the world. Up on their high thrones, looking from above, they feel entitled to hurt and stomp over everyone who doesn’t reach their standards—preying on the innocent and na?ve around them.
I was dumb enough to fall for their facade, for the niceties only used to disguise their true colours.
“Darling.”
Wobbly legs take me to the wardrobe in the far corner of my bedroom. Right beside it, in a hidden corner, lies a travelling bag, used only once back when I spent some time with Rachel. Now, even those moments are tampered with the memory of him.
I need to get out of here and fast.
Putting my arms to work, I take different clothing pieces and start filling the travel bag.
“Hey.”
Once again, the far-away words fall on deaf ears as I rush back to the dresser to pick and thrust some more in, not even bothering to fold it.
“What are you doing?”
“Leaving,” I answer.
“Camilla, before you make any rash decisions, let’s–”
“Shut up,” I bark, harsher than necessary.
Edgar obliges with wide eyes. A small part of me hesitates, knowing it’s not his fault, but the urge to leave this place is too overpowering.
I don’t have it in me to regret my words or my attitude anymore. For once, I am done with hierarchy and titles. After an entire life respecting everyone else and only getting disdain and arrogance in return, it's enough.
It only took me a broken heart to learn that...No one else will care for you but yourself.
“Could you give me a moment alone?”
Edgar nods weakly before turning around and leaving me in my bedroom. When the soft click of the door sounds, my ass falls on the mattress. Primrose sits down next to my feet, whimpering and licking the exposed skin on my leg.
How could I be so stupid? So na?ve?
My bedroom always has a bright and classic vibe, except for today. Magically, it’s matching my mood...The curtains are closed, and it’s dimly lit, giving it a darker atmosphere. As I sweep my eyes over the furniture and the neoclassical decoration, Elizabeth’s words in that wretched letter come up to the surface of my brain...
This will always be your home in more ways than one.
I scoff at the memory. This house seems to be more of a bloody curse than anything else. And I’ll be damned if I spend another night here.
Willing my body to move, I open my bedside table, grabbing everything I can. Most of my clothes and underwear are inside in no more than five minutes. As well as that fucking piece of paper, too.
I should rip it apart.
After I close the luggage and start putting all Primrose’s belongings in a bag, I hear rushed footsteps. My heart stops for a second, but then it resumes its regular work. It’s probably Edgar that has come back to check in on me. Stubborn bastard.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I hear a hushed growl. And it's Edgar.
It can’t be—
“I need to speak to her.” It’s barely audible, but I can still hear it. The fucking nerve.
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Now, move.”
“No.”
“Fucking hell. I’m your older brother!” he booms. “For once in your goddamn life, do what you’re–”
A strong cracking sound seems to cut him off. It scares me, provoking a gasp. What was that?
“That’s for hurting her!” Edgar’s angered words confirm my suspicions. “You’re such a tosser, you know that? You’re so high in that chair of yours, worrying about what you’re expected to do that you’re throwing your happiness out the fucking window!”
“Don’t you think I know that?” There is a heavy second of silence between the two as I stand here, unmoving, waiting to see where this is going.
“You found something most of us spend an entire life looking for and can’t find. You wouldn’t need anything else besides this woman by your side, and you just let it slip right through your fingers, mate. That girl right there is such a pure and kind-hearted woman. The best you’ll ever find. It might have been a secret, but you humiliated her out there. And don’t get me started on how you disrespected her.”
Somehow, it’s good to know that I still have a friend in the middle of this—a true one.
“She doesn’t want to see you. Now, do yourself a fucking favour and leave!”
I swear I can hear Vincent’s body deflate through that loud exhale. I fight the urge to scoff and storm out of the bedroom just to cuss him out. He doesn’t deserve for me to stoop so low. Primrose’s bag is flush to my chest as I emptily look at the door in front of me.
Edgar and Vincent banter and pick on each other a lot, but never like this. This is a full-on fallout, and Edgar is seemingly taking my side.
Finally, he gets the courage to speak in a whisper, “Just so you know, brother, I didn’t have a fucking choice!”
My ass.
The statement finally makes me move. With my hand on the carry-on and Prim’s bag in the other, I stalk to the door, open it, and shock both siblings for a few seconds.
“I just want to exp–”
The door opening abruptly cuts him off, and both startle, looking at me wide-eyed.
“That circus was justification enough. I knew we were doomed from the start. I just wish you’d been man enough to say it to my face instead of hiding behind that witch. The rest of the party might not have known, but right there, you showed her she owns you.”
His eyes dart down, shameful, and it constricts my heart. That action is enough to tell me he agrees with me, and I don’t know if the fact that he realises it settles me or scares me more. Because this man will never—ever—be happy. He’s trapped.
When he looks back at me, his hand reaches out for me as he calls, “Darling, I–”
“You’re not allowed to call me that,” I cut him off with a clipped tone while taking a step back. “From this moment on, my contract is null, and I’ll soon send my resignation letter. I’ll move out and get out of your way.”
“No.” He shakes his head in denial. “You’re staying–”
“Staying?” I laugh bitterly.
“Yes, this...this is y-your home! I-I can’t–”
“You think I’d ever stay after this? And what? Watch you get married and play house with someone else?”
“I can move out if–”
Is he so out of touch with reality?
“Even if you left, I wouldn’t bear living in this hell, where every corner reminds me of the man who destroyed my heart.”
As harsh as these words are, they give me a twisted sense of satisfaction when they make him stagger back. From the corner of my eye, I watch Edgar wince, too, the only reminder that we’re not alone.
“Well, that’s my cue. Goodbye, Your Grace.”
With that, I turn and start to walk away. Before I can get too far away, one strong hand wraps around my wrist, tugging me back. It’s hot and comforting but also rushed and desperate. It burns the skin in such a torturous way that, for a split second, I almost forget.
But my heart is so shattered beyond repair that even the comforting sense of his skin upon mine sends my brain crawling the walls.
I yank my arm out of his grasp harshly and grit, “Don’t ever touch me again. Especially without my fucking permission.”
Just when Vincent’s mouth opens, Edgar’s hand pulls his shoulder back, grabbing his attention. The younger brother shakes his head, signalling him to let it go, and I am thankful.
As I resume walking, I whistle, and Primrose, who has been in my bedroom all this time, comes out, following me, happy and oblivious to all the havoc happening around her.
“Edgar,” I call. “Can you give me a ride? I can’t leave this place fast enough.”
He beams an, “Ay, Ay, Captain,” far too cheekily for the heavy tension around him in a failed attempt to ease it. I just nod weakly as I cross the long corridors towards the back exit with Prim’s little paws running after me. Soon enough, the second set of footsteps sounds behind me, and I am almost ready to turn around and lash out at Vincent—again—when Edgar’s voice sounds.
He rushes past me, opening the kitchen’s back door, allowing me to get out into the orchard. There, he waves an index in the air and announces, “I’ll be riding the pumpkin carriage so the princess can run away before midnight!”
His poor attempt at lightening the mood makes me crack an almost smile as my eyes keep burning from the inside-out.
“Thank you,” I whisper wholeheartedly.