Page 71 of Ruthless Kings of Havoc

That’s only funny because everything we do in the realms of this university will lead to more trauma being piled until we’re playing Jenga, pulling away piece by piece until the tower finally comes crashing down.

“Is that why you spoil Emma?” I wonder. “To not give her a life that I had?”

She doesn’t approve of the way I’ve worded it but can’t argue with me.

“A little bit,” she admits. “Out of Joaquin’s request. He’s in charge of her upbringing. We just play our parts as parents…” I can see it doesn’t sit well with her, though.There’s just something there that tells me there’s so much more to that request than doing it out of a ‘favor’ or ‘love.’

“You’re fulfilling what you promised,” I whisper, grabbing her attention. “When that’s up, you won’t have to continue wearing a mask, yes?”

She stares at me long and hard.

“Yes,” she finally answers.

“Where would that leave Emma?”

“In a world I’d wish she’d never get a taste of,” she says as if she can stop the inevitable.

Why do I feel as though that’s already impossible?

“Do you regret it then? Going through with being a Ruthless Queen? This life where you’re sometimes a puppet and can only play to the tune of your Kings?”

“No.” Her eyes project a mellow sadness, but there are also twinkles of hope. “I know from your perspective, these men… your real father, Prescott, and even Joaquin, are extremely richbeings in our society who are selfish, manic, and oddly powerful, but I’ve seen their real sides. The tender moments they carry and hide from the world.”

She closes her eyes, and I can wonder what she sees in the darkness of her mind. The memories and everything that unravels from the past she shared with this set of men until this moment in time.

“Despite all the hardships, Prescott supports me, no matter what. He never lets anyone think they’re superior to me because I’m a woman. Joaquin is what your generation would deem the ‘sugar daddy,’ I guess, but I learned a lot about this world from him. So much key knowledge in the realms of academics and finances to make it so I’m not some helpless bitch who has to get permission from her Kings to do anything, including existing. And Leighton… my sweet cunning mental case.” She shakes her head in dismay.

“There are sides of him that are so mesmerizing to witness, but there’s also so much anger there. So much stemmed from his parents, who knew exactly what they were doing. Creating a monster they could manipulate and benefit from. The only way out was being with me. Being in our odd dynamic group of messed up people who came from different backgrounds of suffering.”

She lifts her hand and looks at the wedding ring on her finger—the big diamond that sparkles in the bright light from above.

“Marriage of convenience is looked down upon by so many, but it was our way out. It was the only we could try to grasp some sort of ‘happy ever after.’ One day, we’ll get to share our story. Be able to see the crazed shit we’ve gone through just to reach this moment of time, but this was the path we chose to escape the madness consuming each of us in our worlds, and we’re okay with accepting the consequences of those decisions from long ago.” She meets my intrigued gaze with confidence.

“So, I don’t regret it. Having you. Having Emma. Being a puppet, maid, or sex toy to these men who have skeletons of their own in their designated closets. I don’t regret being a survivor because now I can sit here and see the child I created have a chance of her own to get out of this cycle of madness. To end your suffering before it spirals so far that you can no longer escape its grasp.”

She lets out a steady breath and allows those last bit of tears to run their course.

“And in the end, if you think I’m a bad mother, it’s okay. I can accept the hate. The disgust. When you survive your years at Leighton Royal University and never want to speak to me again, I’ll understand and accept your decision,” she assures me. “But know… I will always love you and be proud that you didn’t truly become a copy of me. For I’d never wish for anyone to be as weak as me.”

Yet I don’t even think she’s weak in the slightest.

“Your resilience will lead you on a better path. One that will reward you immensely. With freedom that tastes so delicious, you won’t stop chasing after it. That’s all I can wish for you, my Sweetheart.”

“You’re not weak to me,” I confess wholeheartedly. “You may never see it, Mother, but I wish I could be as strong-willed as you.”

It may seem naive of me to say those words of praise to her, but I won’t allow myself to regret it because, in my soul, I believe she earned that much. I hope one day, when we’re not pressed for time, I’ll get to sit down with her again, just like this.

Drinking tea in a quiet greenhouse filled with an array of flowers and the moonlight shining down, sharing memories we’ve experienced while fighting to survive the chaos life brings.

“Let’s do this again one day.” I can only hope as I sip on more of my tea.

“Is that what you want?” The way she asks so hesitantly makes me seek reasoning for it.

“Yes. Any daughter would wish to have time with their mother. You’re not a villain in my eyes. Then again, I see the world a lot differently than anyone else.”

“I get why you’re my daughter,” she confesses. “Thankful for it. I’m sure anyone else would despise me.”

“Probably,” I agree. “I guess that answers the blood test between Emma and me.”

---