Page 130 of Hawthorne

Edgar’s eyes burn into my skin, but I try to ignore his glare, keeping my eyes trained on my lawyer as he restarts, “As I was saying...We either go to the king while he is still conscious and let him know of your lineage with all the proof that Mr Hawthorne left, or we wait until he dies to file a motion of lineage and request you as his official heir.”

There is a loud gasp, then silence. Surely gobsmacked at the new information.

“I...You...What?” he asks.

“What if he refuses to recognise me if we choose to go to him?” I ask, ignoring Edgar’s dumbfounded ass.

“This will sound cruel, but we can always wait for his death and file the lineage motion to request you to be recognised as the heir and future ruler of Monera.”

“So basically, worst-case scenario, this will turn into a circus?” Harry nods, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Hopefully, the king will still have some good judgement and will make it an easy transition–”

“Can someone fucking answer me?” Edgar yells, standing up from the chair.

If I weren’t so angry and hurt myself, I’d laugh at his outraged self. Edgar is the most reactive person I have ever met.

“I am Joseph’s secret daughter,” I answer bluntly. “Meaning that I am the king’s niece and the next in line, according to the law of succession.”

“You’re taking the piss!” Of course, Edgar.Always the classy one.

No wonder he’snothis mother’s favourite. It gives him a charm, though, which makes him stand out between such ugly ducks.

“I discovered just recently when I finally opened my aunt’s letter. Believe me, it was the last thing I expected, and if it weren’t for that wretched birthmark, I wouldn–”

“Oh my god, Camilla!” Edgar grabs my hands, shaking them aggressively. “Do you know what this means?”

Yes?No?

It has taught me that my life is a lie. That the people you love are the ones that hurt you the most and that the world is one unfair bitchy place to live in.

“What?”

“This means that Vincent doesn’t have to marry Eleanor. You guys can be together–” He stops himself, thinking. “Oh, my,” he exclaims with a deep chuckle. “My mum will have a stroke and crawl up the walls at the same time. She’ll make Spiderman look like a joke.”

“I don’t bloody care who your brother marries,” I growl. “This is about me and my identity,not him.”

While that reality he mentioned would be satisfactory to that part of me that wants revenge, the thought of being Vincent’s second best and consolation choice doesn’t sit right with me.

If becoming an heiress is what it takes for him to choose me,then no, I don’t want it.

“But with you becoming queen, he’d have no obligation to Eleanor and could choose you without being martyred by the media,” Edgar continues his rant, not realising how his words cut deep.

I would never ask for Vincent to leave it all for me, but when he said he’d find a way, I….

I believed it, and he tore all the hope I had to the ground.

“What makes you think I’d ever humiliate myself to the point of trying to get your brother back?”

“Darling, I am sure he–”

“Edgar, I never asked your brother to give it all up for me. Yet, he told me he would find a way…” I try not to let my voice break upon recalling everything, but the emotion clogs my throat. “Tonight, he showed everyone who his choice was. And it wasn’t me.”

Edgar’s eyes are concerned, looking at me like he can see right through the hard façade on the exterior. As if he can see past it, finding all the pain that is just simmering within.

A clear of throat catches our attention, “Getting back who?”

“No one,” I answer.

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