Page 125 of Hawthorne

When I am with Vincent, things are intense but never carefree.

Which I understand. He’s a duke. Throughout his life, a strict routine, ambitious goals, and high expectations were all there was. It’s hard to be light-hearted when you’re raised to please everyone but yourself.

It makes me more grateful to have found a good friend like Edgar.

“Thank you,” I tell him when the music finishes.

“Always, darling.” He smiles. “You deserve the world.”

With a charming smile, he bows and kisses my hand, and I can’t help but giggle at his behaviour.

I am a mere housekeeper, nothing worth bowing for, and yet, he does it. Showing me that in his eyes, I am as important as everyone else in this room.

I am sure when Edgar settles down and finds love, that woman will be a lucky one.

“I’d like to have everyone’s attention, please,” the duke’s mother’s voice sounds from the microphone.

Edgar’s stance freezes, and I swear I can feel him tense on my hand. Nonetheless, he flashes me a smile and places himself by my side, offering me his arm once again. Not even thinking twice, I accept it, directing my attention to her speech.

“Isn’t the speech only after the birthday wishes, at the end of the day?” I whisper to Edgar.

He looks at me, a weird emotion flickering through his eyes, then nods and looks back at his mom.

Weird.

“I want to thank everyone for their presence. It has been an amazing party,” she starts, raising a flute of champagne. “But thereason for my true happiness and what has made this birthday of mine so special this year lies with my eldest son, Vincent, who I’d like to call up to the stage.”

My heartbeat spikes, and I squeeze Edgar’s arm, trying to keep balanced. He covers my hand with his in reassurance.

The moment he steps on stage, my breath hitches. He’s handsome in a black and white tuxedo, sporting a single white flower on his chest pocket. His hair, with those thick brown locks that I’ve run my hands through so many times, are styled back flawlessly.

He’s perfect, always has been, and as he stands on the stage, right next to his mother, he’s dominating the entire room. His presence always does, independently of the location.

“My son has been officially declared heir to the throne.” She pauses, looking directly into my eyes, and I swear I see an evil smile making its way onto her face. “Thus, I am so thrilled to announce to everyone the engagement of my son, Vincent Hawthorne, with Eleanor Courtenay.”

My heart stops.

As my eyes snap to Vincent’s, I notice how he has already been looking at me, avoiding me as soon as my attention reaches him.

It doesn’t stop. Itshatters.

My vision blurs, and ringing noises prevent me from listening to another word coming from her mouth. There are shockwaves of pain hitting me from every corner, making everything around me disappear.

All of these months, I was hesitant and fearful of the magnitude of getting out of this with a broken heart. I just hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Yet, it is worse than all the outcomes my brain had imagined.

It feels like all the gods of evil, from all existing mythologies, have come together and decided to join forces in spite of me. And worse, now they’re all up there, looking down on me andlaughing at the stupid little girl who had hope for…true love and happiness.

“Cami,” Edgar’s voice sounds, but I barely acknowledge it.

Only when Eleanor’s frame steps onto the stage and she eagerly latches on to him, kissing the same cheek I kissed at dawn, do I take a breath—more like a broken hiccup—I didn’t know I’d been holding.

“Take me out of here,” I choke out.

“I am so so–”

“Just, please,” I mumble, gripping his shirt with trembling hands. “Get me out of here.”

He made me fall in love with him. Made me trust him.

---