Vicious Prince (Royal Elite #5)(73)

“Language,” Dad scolds. “And I’m speaking to you, not Lars. You really thought something could go on under my roof and I would know nothing about it?”

Yes, Dad. It already fucking happened.

It takes everything in me not to stare at Eduard. I’m trying to erase him from existence.

“What are you trying to prove with all those parties, Ronan? The drinking? The weed? The alcohol?” Dad’s voice turns more lethal with every word. “Do you think you’re a kid?”

“Not anymore,” I say, and this time, my eyes slide to Eduard. He squirms in his seat, smoothing out his tie.

“Take it easy, Edric.” He smiles, as if trying to alleviate the tension.

Fuck him.

And fuck Dad.

And even Lars, the fucking traitor.

“Stop it.” Mum’s voice turns brittle. “Please.”

In a second, Dad is by her side, grabbing her by the shoulder.

I turn to leave. I have no time for family drama, and if I spend one more second in the same room as Eduard the fucker, I’ll jam a knife in his throat, and once again, murder is frowned upon in ninety-nine per cent of cultures.

“Mon chou, don’t go,” Mum pleads.

“I’ll speak to you later, Mother.”

“There’s no later.” Dad’s booming voice stops me in my tracks. “She’s dying.”

I whirl around so fast I’m surprised I don’t fall on my face. The words he said echo like doom in the asphyxiating silence.

I see them in a different light now.

Dad placing his hands on my mother’s shoulders…her pale face and the tears gathering in her eyes…Lars staring at me with sorrow…

He knew.

He fucking knew.

“What did you just say?” I whisper.

“Your mother has uterine cancer, and she has always suffered from immunodeficiency disorder. The cancer relapsed a year ago, and the surgeries failed.”

“What do you mean they’ve failed? And why am I just learning about this now?”

“It was me.” Mum stands up and nearly drops back down. Fuck. When did she become this weak? Why haven’t I noticed that she usually only speaks to me while sitting or in her bed?

I run to her and force her to sit down then kneel by her side.

She strokes my hair back. “I asked your father and Lars not to tell you. You were my miracle, mon chou. When I first married your father, the doctor told me I couldn’t have kids because of my immunodeficiency disorder. Four years after, I found out I was pregnant and begged your father to let me bring you into the world. Nine months later, you came along, and I was the happiest woman alive. You gave me the privilege of being a mother. The moment the nurse put you in my arms, I cried like a baby while you smiled. It’s weird, isn’t it?”

Her voice catches, and something in my throat does, too. “The cancer started when you were around eight and we thought we got rid of it back then, but it came back last year. That’s why we’ve been going on those trips, mon chou. You’re so young and lively, and I didn’t want to put this burden on you.”

“Burden?” My voice breaks. “What are you talking about? You’re my mother.”

“It’s because I’m your mother that I have to protect you.” A tear falls down her cheek. “But I can’t disappear from your life anymore. I hate it more than anything in the world.”

“You won’t.” I stare at Dad, who’s watching us with furrowed brows.

“We have results to pick up next week,” he says.

“That’s good news, right?” I stare between them, and the silence nearly suffocates me.

“The doctors said I only have a fifteen per cent chance of survival, and I failed on a fifty per cent chance before, so we don’t have much hope.”

“But…but there’s chemotherapy and—”

“No,” Mum cuts me off. “I’m not doing chemo again.”

“She’s refusing that.” Dad’s forehead scrunches.

“And you’re agreeing?” I snap.

“Chemo will only keep me away from you, and then I will die in pain without seeing your face.” She cups my cheek. “I don’t want that.”

“I won’t leave your side.” I grab her hands harder. “Don’t do this, Mother. You can’t leave me. I’m your miracle, remember?”

“It’s because you’re my miracle that I want to spend whatever time I have left with you…” She trails off, a sob catching in her throat. “Please, I’m begging you and Edric to not take this away from me.”

She brushes a trembling kiss on my temple, and her tears drop onto my cheeks as she stands up and starts to leave the room. I try to help her, but Dad holds me back with an arm on my shoulder.

Instead, he motions at Lars to follow her.

“She feels weak when she can’t walk on her own,” Dad tells me after she disappears. “The therapist says to be there for her without making her feel weak.”

“How could you not tell me this?” I throw all my anger and frustration on my father. “How could you keep me in the dark about something as important as this?”

“You heard her. She wanted it this way.”