Page 98 of Fake Fae-Ancée

"I take it you're not completely stupid. The most likely answer as to how I know about you being too much of a coward to finally sign your own divorce papers is really totally obvious."

My thoughts, frozen in petrification a moment ago, began to race. No one knew about this but me. No-one except…

"Yuri," I whispered.

Anastasia snorted. "Believe me, a rather big difference between you and me is that Yuri only ever tells you half."

Out of nowhere, she pulled out a stack of papers. She stepped next to me and placed them on the mahogany console of the washstand. And there, in the brilliant light in front of the mirror were our divorce papers.

With Yuri's curlicued signature.

And mine missing.

"Where did you get those?"

Anastasia rolled her eyes impatiently. "Haven't you figured it out yet?" She smiled sweetly. "Yuri sent them to me. He told me all about your secret wedding. And about your plan. Since everyone in the world thinks you're the girl from the prophecy, you're playing fiancée until Yuri gets his throne back. After that, you'll disappear from the scene, and he'll marry me. Because let's face it, that's the best solution for all of us."

My mind was racing.

"How did he tell you?" I muttered as my brain was already piecing together the answer.

I remembered Yuri on the phone often enough, talking in a low voice, or writing random messages to random people. And what did I know about what he'd been up to before I'd been forced to move in with him? A dagger of doubt sliced into my stomach.

Anastasia patted my arm. I hardly realized. I felt as if I had been packed in ice.

"I told him to just be honest about his plans," she said. And this time there was something much more terrible than venom in her voice — sympathy. "But that's Yuri. Only telling you the absolutely necessary."

Nausea coiled in my stomach. I staggered backward against the vanity and held on.

My mind swirled. Had he done it again? Let me believe a truth that wasn’t? Had I fallen for another convenient lie?

"Ugh. I figure he didn’t let the opportunity pass to fuck you again." Now she was leaning next to me against the vanity. Like she was my best friend, comforting me at prom or something. "I'm really sorry. But on the bright side, this thing will be over soon."

"Spare me." I slapped her hand away, pushing myself off the vanity and took a few steps into the room. Trying to regain my center of gravity. Trying to make the room stop spinning.

"Oh, you misunderstand." Anastasia stepped behind me. "I am not the enemy here. I just want to make the inevitable cut easier for you. You'd best sign those papers and have it over with."

I turned, my eyes burning. "Does Yuri know you're here, talking to me?"

She smiled. "He probably thought you'd be more likely to listen to me." She shrugged. "Yuri will soon be challenging the current king. So you better get it over with."

She held up a red ballpoint pen, placing it emphatically slowly next to my divorce papers. She gave me one last dismissive look, then stalked past me and out the door.

I just stared.

That's probably what it felt like to be knocked out cold. When you didn't see the punch coming. Or the corner it would come from.

I stepped in front of the vanity.

Was it true? Had Yuri been telling her about our plan all along? Had he secretly been longing for her? While he was locked in his penthouse with me?

He probably had, hadn't he? Why else would he have given her the papers? How else could it be that they were now on the vanity, along with the subtle request to discreetly disappear from the scene without making a fuss?

I swallowed the lump that was rising in my throat.

It made sense in a sick way. And probably that polished bitch was right. It was the better solution for everyone involved.

I looked at my hand and the rose-gold band on my finger. I gave it a tentative tug.

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