39
Camilla White
“ W elcome to my humble abode,” Harry greets Edgar and me as we enter his apartment with a bow. “It was the fastest way to receive you this late.”
We both nod in return, acknowledging his greeting. At this point, I question if that bow is still aimed at Edgar or me. The webs and lies of what these people made of my life have led me to question everything and everyone.
“I am sorry for the hour,” I excuse us, even though I don’t really mean it. “I am glad you could make it work.”
Edgar looks at me, questioning, but I ignore it, focusing on my goal for tonight. Aunt Lizzie’s letter was clear, and Harry was the only man who could help clear everything for me. Depending on what he says, I’ll decide how to go from here.
I know it is out of character, and that is why Edgar keeps silently watching me, but in my brain, it was either this or find a hotel room and cry myself to sleep.
As we enter, I notice his apartment isn’t small or old. It probably comes with being the lawyer for some of the most important families in the realm. Walking across his sleek hall towards his office, I see one of the far back wooden doors.
Harry reaches it first, opening it for us, and it immediately feels like I am being transported to a different place. Unlike the sleek, modern apartment, the office is chaotic and stuffy. Tall stacks of papers are spread around the division, the biggest being over his desk.
“Sorry for the mess. I have been trying to reorganise. It’s been a while since it has been done, and I need to separate what’s to keep or destroy.” He chuckles, embarrassed.
By my side, Edgar is still quiet but looks around very often.
He’s trying to understand. I can see it through his questioning glances and confused frowns whenever something happens. His mind must be asking, “What are we doing here at an ungodly hour of the morning?”
I insisted he didn’t need to come with me,, but he refused to leave me. Let’s just hope that by the end of the night, he hasn’t regretted it. Especially since it took me an hour to get a hold of Harry and another to find me a hotel so I could change clothes.
“It’s alright,” I answer. “Thank you for receiving us on such short notice.”
He chuckles nervously. “You know I’d never refuse–” He stops when I shake my head, clearing his throat. “Please, sit down. You will be more comfortable.”
“Thank you.”
We both sit down, and while Harry looks for all of his paperwork regarding Mrs Elizabeth—or well, me...Edgar’s elbow hits my arm, making me look at him, “What’s going on? Why are we here? Are you going to sue my brother?”
It’s amazing he held it in as long as he did.
“He doesn’t know, and you brought him here?” Harry asks, surprised.
“No one knows,” I remind him. “Only you did, apparently. ”
“I–” He stops himself, eyes casting down in shame.
He must have known this from the beginning. Since the moment I entered that office, the worry on my face regarding my job and living status was clear, and he did nothing to change it or reassure me.
While I understand this man owes me nothing and was only doing his job, following orders, tonight, everything is heightened. The fact that he kept quiet all of this time after a lifetime of lies from my late boss and my own mother prevents me from trusting anyone.
Tonight has been the last nail in the coffin for me. Before, Vincent’s warmth and attention helped brush off the gravity of the situation, but now…I have no one.
Everyone betrayed my trust, no exceptions. Everything I held dear and loved was a lie. Not only are all the loved ones I had gone physically, but the one I opened and gave my heart to just betrayed me.
I knew love could hurt, but it seems that it feels more destructive than anything else. If that’s how it is, then I don’t want it. Nor do I need it.
With a resigned sigh, I speak, “He’ll understand in no time. Just get on with it.”
“There are two ways we can tackle this...if you are to go through with it…” Harry’s voice is tentative.
There’s a dragged silence as he steals a glance at a—still—confused Edgar, still with that weary expression on his face.
While I roughly know the consequences of making my situation public, I still don’t understand fully what it implies.
“Which are…” I insist when he doesn’t continue.
“We either go straight to the king while he–”
“Wow!” Edgar cuts in, standing up abruptly and waving exaggeratedly. Always the drama queen . “Wait a bloody second. Did you just say the king?” he exclaims before turning to me. “What the hell is going on?”
Ignoring Edgar, I nod for Harry to continue.
“Your Highness, we need an NDA! If this comes out before we–”
“No need to be formal with me…” Edgar comments. “Why an NDA, though?”
“He’ll sign it by dawn,” I grit, not even caring. Maybe it’ll be better in the end. The last thing I need is his mother to learn about this and ruin everything
“Me? What? Why in the hell?”
I ignore him, “Keep going.”
“Camilla, can you tell me what’s going on? Are you trying to get my brother excommunicated or something?”
“This is a monarchy, Edgar, not the Vatican,” I scoff, annoyed. “Patience. Listen first. Questions later.”
Edgar’s eyes burn into my skin, but I try to ignore his glare, keeping my eyes trained on my lawyer as he restarts, “As I was saying...We either go to the king while he is still conscious and let him know of your lineage with all the proof that Mr Hawthorne left, or we wait until he dies to file a motion of lineage and request you as his official heir.”
There is a loud gasp, then silence. Surely gobsmacked at the new information.
“I...You...What?” he asks.
“What if he refuses to recognise me if we choose to go to him?” I ask, ignoring Edgar’s dumbfounded ass.
“This will sound cruel, but we can always wait for his death and file the lineage motion to request you to be recognised as the heir and future ruler of Monera.”
“So basically, worst-case scenario, this will turn into a circus?” Harry nods, lips pressed into a thin line.
“Hopefully, the king will still have some good judgement and will make it an easy transition–”
“Can someone fucking answer me?” Edgar yells, standing up from the chair.
If I weren’t so angry and hurt myself, I’d laugh at his outraged self. Edgar is the most reactive person I have ever met.
“I am Joseph’s secret daughter,” I answer bluntly. “Meaning that I am the king’s niece and the next in line, according to the law of succession.”
“You’re taking the piss!” Of course, Edgar. Always the classy one.
No wonder he’s not his mother’s favourite. It gives him a charm, though, which makes him stand out between such ugly ducks.
“I discovered just recently when I finally opened my aunt’s letter. Believe me, it was the last thing I expected, and if it weren’t for that wretched birthmark, I wouldn–”
“ Oh my god , Camilla!” Edgar grabs my hands, shaking them aggressively. “Do you know what this means?”
Yes? No?
It has taught me that my life is a lie. That the people you love are the ones that hurt you the most and that the world is one unfair bitchy place to live in.
“What?”
“This means that Vincent doesn’t have to marry Eleanor. You guys can be together–” He stops himself, thinking. “Oh, my,” he exclaims with a deep chuckle. “My mum will have a stroke and crawl up the walls at the same time. She’ll make Spiderman look like a joke.”
“I don’t bloody care who your brother marries,” I growl. “This is about me and my identity, not him .”
While that reality he mentioned would be satisfactory to that part of me that wants revenge, the thought of being Vincent’s second best and consolation choice doesn’t sit right with me.
If becoming an heiress is what it takes for him to choose me, then no, I don’t want it.
“But with you becoming queen, he’d have no obligation to Eleanor and could choose you without being martyred by the media,” Edgar continues his rant, not realising how his words cut deep.
I would never ask for Vincent to leave it all for me, but when he said he’d find a way, I….
I believed it, and he tore all the hope I had to the ground.
“What makes you think I’d ever humiliate myself to the point of trying to get your brother back?”
“Darling, I am sure he–”
“Edgar, I never asked your brother to give it all up for me. Yet, he told me he would find a way…” I try not to let my voice break upon recalling everything, but the emotion clogs my throat. “Tonight, he showed everyone who his choice was. And it wasn’t me.”
Edgar’s eyes are concerned, looking at me like he can see right through the hard facade on the exterior. As if he can see past it, finding all the pain that is just simmering within.
A clear of throat catches our attention, “Getting back who?”
“No one,” I answer.
“Vincent,” Edgar says at the same time.
Ugh , sometimes I forget how annoying he can be.
“Never mind,” I tell Harry.
“And you,” I hiss, pulling Edgar’s arm down, forcing him to sit back on the chair. “Shut up,” I growl to Edgar.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” He bows dramatically before settling back on his puffy leather chair.
Harry looks at me with a concerned expression, but I ignore it.
“Your Highness–”
“Just call me Camilla, for god’s sake,” I grit, annoyed.
“Is it wise that the duke’s brother knows your lineage? He might tell since you’re his brother’s, uhm…competition. That would take the title of duke from him, from taking his brother off from being first in line, and–”
“Tsk tsk,” Edgar cuts in. “Very rude of you to think all I care about is some shitty title. I won’t tell anyone.”
Rolling my eyes, I ignore his remark and focus back on the lawyer in front of both of us. “Send word to the palace. I want an urgent meeting with the king. If they refuse, we’ll set the motion directly through court. That should do the trick.”
Harry nods, commenting that it should allow us to be received early in the morning, due to the king’s delicate health condition. The faster, the better.
And before letting him start to get to work, I add, “Don’t forget his NDA. From now on, I want to be sure I can trust the people around me.”
“Ay, Captain.” Edgar salutes with his hand on his forehead while Harry nods and dives into his paperwork and phone for the emails and calls he needs to do.
We both watch him work in silence, waiting for time to pass...A sense of dread settles in my bones, letting me know that things will not get easier and that, in fact...it’s just getting started.