Stealing Cinderella(65)

Aunt Runa regards me curiously. “It was only a matter of time, was it not?”

“The doctors said he had years left.”

She takes a sip of her tea and shrugs. “Doctors don’t know everything.”

“Do you suspect it was something else?” Calder frowns.

Lavinia’s offhanded remark about his heart comes to mind, but it seems like a stretch to connect those dots. Would she really take things that far? And if not her, perhaps the woman who was sleeping in his bed every night.

“Where are Narcissa and her daughters?” I ask.

Runa checks to make sure my mother is sleeping and lowers her voice to a whisper. “They made quite the spectacle this morning, carrying on with no respect or decorum. Narcissa broke into a fit of hysterics, and there was little choice in the matter. I had them forcibly removed by security and put up in a hotel until Hayes can make their travel arrangements home.”

A knock on the door disturbs us, and Hayes pokes his head inside with an apologetic expression. “I’m so sorry, Your Highness. But would you mind if we have a word?”

I drag myself out of the chair and follow him into the hall, with Calder not far behind.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I understand this must be a terribly difficult time for you,” he says. “But your father’s secretary and I have spoken, and we believe it’s imperative we start briefing you on your duties right away so we can handle the press before the story leaks.”

“My duties?” The words ring hollow when they leave my throat.

“Yes, sir. As of this morning, you are the King of Norway.”

“Thor.” Calder steps beside me. “You don’t have to do this right now.”

“But he will.” My mother’s feeble voice speaks from behind us.

“Should you be out of bed?” Calder remarks as Aunt Runa pushes her into the hall.

“I’m fine,” she answers stubbornly, her eyes moving to me. “Thorsen, I know the past couple of days have been difficult, but the time has come. This is what you were born for.”

“What I was born for?” I laugh humorlessly. “The whole country despises me.”

“They just don’t know you,” she insists. “You’ve hidden yourself well, but now is the time to let them see you for who you are, and they will love you as we all love you.”

I know what she’s doing. She doesn’t have to tell me why she’s pushing this. She thinks this turn of events will force me in a different direction and give me a purpose.

“Give it a chance,” she pleads. “That’s all I ask.”

Hayes speeds along the process by throwing another match on the bonfire.

“Your Highness, we don’t have much time. I’m afraid it’s very likely Narcissa will speak out to the media. We need to stay ahead of it. It’s your job now to control the narrative.”

“How long do we have?” I sigh, wishing that plague of a woman and her family would just disappear.

He checks his watch. “As of right now, a little under forty minutes.”





Once we secured the official press release, Hayes ushered me off to a meeting with the council that extended into the late hours of the night. After everything that’s happened, I refuse to let Narcissa humiliate my mother as her final parting shot. That nagging thought is what drives me down the hall to my father’s office.

Now that I have the keys, I can access his files. When I sit down at the desk and unlock his drawers, it doesn’t take me long to find what I’m looking for. Alongside the dossiers of the many people in our lives, there’s a folder for Narcissa and her daughters.

I flip the files onto the desk and open them, scanning through the mundane details of their lives. School records, dates of birth, job histories, relations. It’s at this particular juncture that something catches my eye, and I’m half-convinced I must be delusional from exhaustion because this can’t be right. But no matter how many times I blink, the name in the file doesn’t change. Listed under Narcissa’s relatives is a stepdaughter she never mentioned by the name of Ella Bellerose Laurent.

My head spins, and I feel like I’m going to be ill as that information settles into my consciousness. I can’t accept it. There’s no way Ella could ever be related to her. I don’t want to believe it. But the more time I spend flipping through the pages, the more obvious it becomes that it’s horrifyingly true. There are pictures of her inside this folder. A family photograph from when her father was still alive, along with a solitary identification photo. The blue eyes staring back at me are unmistakable. That same woman is inside my home. In my bed. And even worse, she’s in my head.

I can’t deny the link between them, and my paranoia is festering like cancer inside me. She never told me who her family was. She never mentioned Lavinia or Narcissa by name, and now, there’s only one conclusion I can draw. Has she been playing me too? Was it all an elaborate scheme between them? They came to the ball to hunt a prince, and I was the only one foolish enough to take the bait. She spoon-fed me a story that was far too convenient in its desperation. Nobody is that selfless. Nobody would make the agreement she made with me unless there was something in it for her.

I feel you.

When I close my eyes, I can still see her whispering those words under the moonlight. They felt so genuine. But now it feels like a betrayal of the worst kind.