Page 19 of Dark Prince

Her declaration, half in jest and half dead serious makes me laugh out loud: “Thanks, Lily. It's really nice to have you in my corner.”

Leaning forward, Lily's eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief. “So, how are things going with the lord of the house?” she asks, her voice dripping with playful irony as she emphasizes the title.

Her question catches me off guard, and for a moment, I'm torn on how to answer. Talking about Luk behind his back feels like stepping into dangerous territory. Yet there's a part of me, perhaps emboldened by the growing camaraderie between Lily and me, that wants to share, to give voice to the whirlwind of emotions I've been navigating alone.

Lily, sensing my hesitation, nudges me gently, her curiosity clear. “Come on, you can tell me. What's he really like?”

I cave, a small sigh escaping me as I decide to open up. “Luk is... surprising,” I start, choosing my words carefully. “At first, he seemed so cold, so untouchable. But there's this warmth, a kind of tenderness that I've started to see more of. It's like catching glimpses of sunlight on a cloudy day.”

I pause, feeling both vulnerability and relief at sharing this insight. “And do you know what? I actually like it. I’m discovering a secret side of him that he doesn't show to the world.”

Lily listens intently, a warm smile spreading across her face as I speak.Our intimate bubble is suddenly pierced by Svetlana, one of the service staff. She approaches with a respectful, albeit apologetic, demeanor. “I'm sorry for the interruption, Mrs. Ivanova, but you have a guest. Mrs. Sharon Halsey is here to see you.”

Hearing Sharon's name sends a jolt of ice through my veins. She’s finally rid of me; what could she possibly want now?

Lily catches the immediate change in my expression, her own setting into a mask of concern. She's nominally aware of the complex history between Sharon and me, the undercurrents of tension, and the potential for conflict. “Hey, you don't have to meet with her if you don't want to,” Lily says quickly, her voice low. “This is your house, and you don’t have to entertain anyone you don’t want to. That's also the nice thing about having us around; we can keep away whomever you don't want to see.”

I'm tempted by the offer, if only for a brief moment. The prospect of avoiding a confrontation with Sharon appeals to the part of me that's still rattled by the mention of her name. But the part of me that's been growing stronger and more determined since my wedding day knows that avoidance isn't the answer.

“No,” I say, my voice firmer than I feel. “I need to meet with her. But thank you, Lily, really.”

“All right, but if you need anything, just holler. I'll be around.”

I nod, grateful for her support, and take a deep breath, steeling myself for the encounter ahead.

Stepping into the parlor, my heart is pounding in my chest, anticipation and dread swirling within me. Sharon is waiting for me with that all-too-familiar syrupy smile plastered across her face. She's dressed to the nines, as always, in something tight and clearly expensive.

Just one second in her presence and I'm already reminded of why I'm so grateful for my new life away from her. She was once a constant source of tension and manipulation, but that now feels like nothing more than a distant, unpleasant memory.

My stepmother doesn’t waste any time. She hurries over with a speed that belies her usual composure, wrapping me up in a hug that’s as bony and uncomfortable as I remember.

“Maura, darling, it’s so good to see you,” she coos, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.

The hug, meant to convey warmth and affection, feels nothing short of performative. As she pulls back to appraise me, I’m reminded of the games and manipulations that Sharon plays all too well.

I don't waste any time. “What are you doing here, Sharon?” My tone is direct, cutting through the niceties.

She feigns hurt, dramatically placing her hands over her heart. “Oh, Maura, you wound me. Can't a mother check up on her daughter? Especially after such a whirlwind marriage and that dreadful attempt on your life.”

Her words are calculated, each one laced with pretend concern. It's clear she's playing a part, but the sincerity is as thin as the smile plastered on her face.

“Stepmother,” I correct her as I’ve done so many times before.

My eyes drift to Rory, stationed like a statue near the doorway. It's enough to make me keep my guard up.

“I’m fine,” I reply, keeping my response curt and to the point. “Luk is handling the investigation into the assassination attempt.”

Sharon's reaction is theatrical, almost comical, in its intensity. “Oh, that's wonderful to hear!” she exclaims, a little too brightly, a little too eagerly. It's hard to tell where her true feelings lie beneath the layers of her over-the-top performance.

Sensing the undercurrent of something unspoken, I decide it's time to cut through the façade. “Sharon, let's get to the point. What's really on your mind? Why are you here?”

For a moment, she seems taken aback, her mask of overzealous concern slipping to reveal a glimmer of genuine emotion. It's a rare glimpse into the real woman, not often seen beneath her usual drama.

She sighs with a hint of resignation. “All right, Maura. You’ve got me. I do have other reasons for wanting to see you beyond checking in on your well-being. I wanted to discuss the matter of the inheritance.”

I can't help but snort at the mention of the inheritance; my patience is already wearing thin. “You mean the money from my father that you managed to squander? Or are we talking about my share, which, let me remind you, you have no claim to?”

The tension in the room spiked, the mention of money casting a long shadow over our conversation. It was clear that despite Sharon's initial pretense of a familial visit, financial motives lurked beneath the surface, as they so often did with her.

---