Page 61 of The Wanted Prince

I caught his hands again and pried his fists open. “Paid all what back? You’re not making sense.”

“Father’s retiring. He’s selling the business. He’s hiring accountants, and they’re going to find out. I took millions, Laura. Ten million. Twelve.”

My guts clenched. “From the business? You were stealing from Father?”

“Not stealing. Just… borrowing. To pay off my debts. I’d have put it all back, but Father?—”

“What debts?”

Hugo sat breathing shallowly. He’d gone milky pale. I thought he might vomit, and I pulled back my feet.

“Gambling,” he said. “I have an addiction.”

“And you thought, what? You’d become king and pardon yourself?”

“No, I thought I could… do a reset. Take the cash from the treasury and cancel my debt, then I’d start fresh. And I’d quit gambling.”

I gaped. “Wait, you haven’t quit?”

“If I win, I can?—”

I slapped him, hard. He groaned and rubbed at his cheek.

“That’s fair,” he said.

“No, it’s not fair. It’s not half what you deserve. You could’ve destroyed Alessandro, destroyed his whole family. Destroyed their legacy, and for what? A few million? Why didn’t you just go to Father for help?”

Hugo’s eyes flashed. “Weren’t you listening? He’s trying to retire, and I’ve drained his savings. What about our family? Our legacy? The crown is ours by rights. We’re the royal family. Don’t you want to be queen one day? Or your son to be king?”

“My son.” I dropped my hand to my belly. “Well, he’d be king anyway. Or she’d be queen. Assuming Alessandro inherits.”

Hugo didn’t react at first. His expression went blank. Then his brow furrowed and his gaze flicked to my belly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying our legacy and the royal family’s is one and the same.”

“You’re lying. You can’t be. This can’t be true.”

I stood up. “It is. And you have today to come forward.”

“Please, Laura.”

“No. You’ll confess today. If you don’t, I’m going to the palace myself.”

Hugo surged to his feet and lunged for the doorway. I put my hands on my hips.

“What? Are you going to stop me?”

Hugo hid his face like a child caught red-handed, palms pressed to his eyes, lips pulled back in a snarl. “You can’t tell,” he said. “I’ll put it back, I swear.”

“Not good enough. You need to be honest. You’ll name your conspirators and exonerate Alessandro. And you’ll explain to Father where his millions went.”

Hugo squared his shoulders. Bunched his hands into fists. For an instant, I thought he really might strike me, but then he covered his face again, and he slumped back.

“I am sorry,” he said.

“Good. Then you’ll prove it.”

“I thought this was the right thing. I really did. All the good we could do, with Father in power…”

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