Chapter 41
Jasper slipped away, feeling like a third wheel.
Jemma was married now. To a prince.
Her new family was made up of sheiks, princesses, and powerful men with titles he barely understood. They lived in a world of influence and elegance, and no matter how welcoming they'd been, Jasper couldn’t help but feel like an outsider looking in.
He was grateful to Saif—deeply so—for sponsoring him at his new school. He’d toured the campus yesterday, met his teachers, even shook hands with his future roommate. The dean had already spoken to him about long-term goals and internships.
He started Monday. And he was almost giddy with anticipation.
But none of that made the sense of loneliness disappear.
For so long, it had been just the three of them—him, Jemma, and Mom. Then Jemma got the big, important job, and it became him and Mom, with Jemma visiting often. After Mom died, it was just him and Jemma and Jayla. Their tiny family had still felt whole. Maybe a little frayed, but whole.
Now everything was changing again.
Soon, he’d go off to boarding school. No more daily playtime with Jayla. No more late-night talks with Jemma about classes, or snacks eaten over homework. He’d see them on school breaks, sure, but… where would he even go for those breaks?
Here?
Maybe.
But what if Jemma and Saif weren’t here? What if they were in Lativa? What if there was some royal function in a different country?
He sighed and wandered out the front door, nodding absently to the two guards stationed there. He couldn’t remember their names—not unusual. With Saif’s father and brother-in-law here, the number of guards had doubled. Maybe tripled.
Tiro was cool, though. Smart and surprisingly down-to-earth. Angela, his wife, was kind and funny. Even Saif’s mom, Helen, had surprised him. Not just a brilliant economic advisor—she was goofy and warm, like the best kind of mom.
But none of them were his mom.
He leaned against the wall that lined the property, staring out at the tree-lined street and the stately homes beyond.
Everything here was clean, expensive, and just slightly surreal.
It made him feel even more out of place.
The past few days had been a whirlwind of activity, and Jemma hadn’t had time for their usual after-dinner conversations. He missed her.
Maybe he just needed a walk. A little air. Some space to think.
He stepped away from the wall.
“Sir,” one of the guards called after him. “Please don’t go too far from the house.”
Jasper waved him off. “Don’t worry. I’m not one of the important people here.”
The guard frowned and murmured something into a mic hidden near his collar.
But Jasper kept walking, head down.
And then— “You’re coming with me,” a low, snarling voice growled behind him.
Something hard jabbed into his ribs.
Jasper froze.
He turned slightly. The man was unfamiliar—shorter than him by a few inches, overweight, with a nasty glint in his eyes. His face was sweaty, and he reeked of bourbon.
“Huh?” Jasper said—not very brilliant but it was the only word his stunned brain could come up with.
“I have your sister and niece. If you don’t get your ass moving, I’ll call my partner and have the brat shot!”
Jasper blinked. The guy was wearing oversized glasses and a hideous wig, but that voice—and the threat—made Jasper look closer.
“Mark Sinstack?” he asked, stunned. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Move!” Mark snapped, jabbing something hard into Jasper’s side.
Jasper started walking, glancing toward the house. The view was blocked by thick trees, and he couldn’t see any of the guards from here.
Then the weight of Mark’s threat hit him—and fury surged through his veins.
He spun around and grabbed the man’s sweater. “Where’s my sister?” he growled. “If you’ve hurt Jayla, I swear to God—!”
“I’m the one with the gun!” Mark barked, shoving it harder into Jasper’s ribs.
Jasper didn’t flinch. “So shoot me! But you’re not using me to get to them.”
“Jasper!” a voice screamed.
Both men turned as Jemma bolted out of the house, a swarm of bodyguards on her heels.
Mark’s grip on the pistol loosened for a second. Jasper barely noticed—he was too angry, too focused.
“Where is Jayla?!” he shouted again, jerking the man forward by his sweater.
“Who the hell is—”
But he didn’t finish the sentence.
Jemma shoved Jasper aside and, in one swift, practiced motion, drove her knee into Mark’s groin.
The man dropped with a strangled grunt, the gun clattering to the sidewalk.
Saif was right behind her, guards fanning out around them.
“Jemma! Jasper! Are you okay?” he asked, reaching for Jasper first, his hands moving quickly, checking for injuries. “Did he hurt you? What did he say?”
“He said he had Jayla,” Jasper blurted out.
The guards froze.
But Jemma shook her head. “No. Jayla’s in her bassinet. I had just put her down when I saw you from the upstairs window.” She cupped Jasper’s face, eyes scanning him. “Did he touch you? Are you hurt?”
Jasper shook his head. “No. Just tried to get me to go with him.”
“Your Highnesses,” one of the guards said urgently, “we need to get you inside. Now.”
Jasper turned his head to watch as another guard handcuffed Mark, who was now groaning on the pavement.
“What the hell did he want?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Jemma whispered, her arms wrapped tightly around her brother.
“I’m okay,” Jasper reassured her, hugging her back. “Really. He didn’t do anything—he just tried to scare me.”
“Why?”
“He said he had you and Jayla,” Jasper repeated. And then strong arms wrapped around both of them.
Saif.
He pulled them both into a firm embrace, relief carved deep into his expression.
And just like that, Jasper felt it—he wasn’t alone anymore. He hadn’t lost his family. He’d gained one.
Inside the house, Angela and Helen rushed to him, their faces pale and worried. They checked him over like protective aunts, hugging him fiercely. Then Tiro stepped in, shaking Jasper’s hand before tugging him into a bro-hug.
Raj was last. He didn’t say anything. Just rested his hands on Jasper’s shoulders, looked him in the eye, and gave a firm nod.
That nod said everything.
Jasper belonged.