22. Courtney
CHAPTER 22
COURTNEY
T he steam from the shower still clings to my skin as I stand in the fogged-up bathroom, the towel wrapped hastily around me. My heart is a wild thing in my chest, beating furiously against my rib cage. I press my hand to the cool tile wall, trying to steady myself.
I overheard everything. Every single word Jakob said to his father. I’m not just some girl he happened to like; I’m a project, an assignment handed down by the King of Bergovia himself. The thought makes my stomach twist. How could I have been so na?ve? To think that someone like Jakob… that he could actually care for someone like me?
Peeling off the towel, I quietly pad into the attached master bedroom and slip into the dress from last night. It’s crumpled and smells faintly of the evening’s revelry. My reflection in the mirror is a stranger’s: flushed cheeks, eyes bright with unshed tears, betrayal etched into every angle of my face.
I can’t stay here, locked away with the truth gnawing at my insides. I need answers, and there’s only one person who can give them to me.
Pushing the door open, I step into the living room. Jakob is there, his back to me, putting his phone on a charging stand. He looks regal even in his jeans and T-shirt, every bit the prince — but now I see the lies woven into his expensive clothes.
“Jakob.” My voice breaks, and he turns, startled. There’s a flicker of something in his expression — guilt, maybe, or surprise. It doesn’t matter. “We need to talk.”
He takes a step toward me without taking his eyes off me. “Courtney, what’s?—”
“Did you ever actually like me?” The question bursts from me, raw and aching. “Or was I just a task? Something to check off your royal to-do list?”
He opens his mouth, but I don’t want his practiced apologies or polished lies. I’ve had enough of feeling like a pawn in someone else’s game. And I’m done playing.
His eyes widen, a plea perched on his lips. “Courtney, please, let me explain?—”
“Explain?” My voice cracks like ice beneath the weight of my anger. I cross my arms, guarding against the chill of his betrayal. “How do you explain lying to me? Pretending to care?”
He steps forward, his hands reaching for me, but I recoil. “I did care — I do care,” he insists, desperation tinging his words.
“Stop.” I hold up a hand, needing space between his deceit and my shattered trust. “You were watching me because your father told you to. Because I might be a… a threat ?” The last word tastes bitter on my tongue.
“Look, it started that way, yes, but—” His jaw clenches, and I can nearly hear his wheels spinning as he tries to find some way out of the confrontation.
“Started that way.” The phrase echoes in the hollow space where warmth used to flicker. “It doesn’t matter how it ended, Jakob. It shouldn’t have started at all.”
“Please, Courtney,” he begs, his composed veneer cracking.
“Goodbye, Jakob.” The words tumble out, firm and final.
Turning on my heel, I rush toward the door, refusing to look back at what could have been. My fingers fumble with the latch, a clumsy escape from a fairy tale gone wrong.
Once outside, the morning air bites at my cheeks, and the first tear runs down my face. I don’t get far before someone steps right in front of me. Squinting through my pain, I manage to process that there’s a man standing in front of me, phone raised up to film me.
“Hey, it’s her! The girl who was with Prince Jakob!” He shouts it loud, as if he wants the whole world to hear.
Panic knots in my stomach as I quicken my pace. Another shout. Another shutter click. Tears blur my vision as I push through the growing crowd, their cries swirling around me like vultures over prey.
“Is that the prince’s new flame?” someone shouts too loudly.
“American gold digger,” another sneers.
Each word is a dagger, each picture taken a reminder of the love story that never was. I wrap my arms around myself as I flee from the piercing eyes and prying lenses.
I need to get away. But where to? There are people everywhere, all looking, all dissecting me with their eyes. One woman points out to her friend that I’m wearing last night’s dress, and another one shakes her head at me, as if embarrassed that her prince would stoop so low.
A grocery store’s automatic doors slide open, offering a temporary haven from the relentless phones and gossips outside. My high-heeled feet click against the cold linoleum floor, and I quickly disappear inside.
I dart past the rows of colorful produce, the faces of curious shoppers blurring into a single canvas of confusion. They can’t possibly understand the storm I’m running from, the hurricane of emotions tearing through my chest. I spot the sign for the restrooms and veer towards it, my refuge now just a few strides away.
“Miss, are you all right?” A store employee eyes me with concern, but I can’t afford to stop, not even to craft a lie.
“Fine, thank you,” I mumble without slowing down, pushing through the bathroom door and locking it behind me.
My reflection in the mirror shows a stranger — red-eyed, disheveled, a princess stripped of her illusory crown. Sobs choke out between breaths, and I lean on the sink for support. It’s only when I find my phone in the clutch I’ve somehow managed to hold on to that I remember Mimi, my lifeline in this country.
With trembling hands, I pull the phone out and give her a call. If she doesn’t answer, I don’t know what to do. There must be car services here in Bergovia, but I don’t know which ones they are.
“Hey, Courtney.” Her voice is the lighthouse in the darkest storm, soothing over the raw edges of my panic.
“Mimi, can you come get me? Please, I— I’m at the grocery store on Rue de la Paix.” My words are a plea, a tether thrown into the storm.
“What’s wrong?” Her voice sharpens. “Are you okay?”
“Not really.” I bite my bottom lip, holding back a sob. “I’m not in danger, but… I just need a ride. I can send you my location.”
“Of course. Stay put. I’m on my way.” She doesn’t ask any more questions, doesn’t push for explanations she knows I’m not ready to give.
“Thank you,” I whisper before sliding down to sit on the cool tile floor, knees hugged tight to my chest.
Time crawls by in the sterile quiet of the bathroom, each minute an eternity until Mimi arrives. Eventually, my phone buzzes again, her text a beacon: I’m here.
Taking deep breaths, I steel myself for the onslaught. I unlock the door, stepping back into the chaos. The crowd has swelled, the store’s entrance now a stage for the curious and the cruel. But I’ve played the damsel in distress for the last time today.
With newfound resolve, I weave through the onlookers, their voices fading to a distant hum. There’s no prince coming to save me; I’m claiming my own escape.
Mimi’s car is at the curb, the window rolled down so she can wave me onward. I launch myself into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut with a finality that matches the closing chapter of my Bergovian adventure.
“Drive,” I gasp, and she doesn’t hesitate. The engine roars to life, and we zoom away.
The car speeds through the city, a blur of morning light and shadows. I don’t look back as Mimi weaves through traffic, each turn putting distance between me and the life I thought I was building with Jakob. My heart pounds in my chest, and I feel like I might vomit any moment. I keep it down, though, not wanting her to stop the car at any cost.
“Hey, so…” Mimi’s voice breaks through my daze. “I saw the pictures of you with Prince Jakob. When you told me about him, I had no clue he was royalty!”
I turn to face her, feeling the sting of betrayal afresh. “Neither did I, at first,” I confess, my words heavy with sorrow. “But finding out who he is wasn’t the worst part.”
She glances at me, her brow furrowing in suspicion. “What do you mean?”
“Jakob… he was shadowing me,” I admit, a lump forming in my throat. “His father thinks I’m some sort of national threat because of my family’s history with the royal family. We’re old rivals, apparently.”
“Wait, what?” Her eyes widen. “That’s insane!”
“Tell me about it.”
The pain is raw as I curl into myself, hugging my arms tight around my middle. I stare out the window, watching the city pass by in a haze. Memories of Jakob’s smiles, his gentle touches, play on loop in my mind — each one now tainted by doubt. Did any of it mean anything to him?
“Are you okay?” Mimi reaches over, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.
“No,” I reply quietly, a single tear tracing its way down my cheek. “I thought… I really believed he cared about me.”
“Hey, listen to me,” she says firmly, squeezing my shoulder. “You are strong, Courtney. You’ll get through this.”
Her words are meant to be soothing, but they can’t reach the hollow space where my trust in Jakob once lived. My heart feels like it’s been cleaved in two, the fracture line jagged and deep.
“Let’s get you somewhere quiet,” she murmurs.
I just nod, grateful for her presence yet unable to shake the heartbreak that feels like it will always and forever more be with me.