My Dark Desire: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Dark Prince Road)
My Dark Desire: Chapter 87

T-MINUS 3 DAYS.

I never expected people to bend to my will.

All my life, my peers naturally did it, as if I’d issued an unbreakable command merely by existing.

After the accident, when Mom changed, I considered her one-eighty the universe’s way of counterbalancing a blessed life.

Until now.

As everything went to shit.

And no one seemed to care about a goddamn thing I said.

I stalked into the four-bedroomed grand pool villa, swatting away the residential assistant Mom had hired for the duration of her stay at the Four Seasons Chiang Mai. “Where are they?”

She floundered, torn between chasing after me and running for help. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. Sun Yu Wen and Zhao Yu Ting. What room?”

My loafers pounded the dark hardwood. Straight to the open balcony door overlooking the private sundeck.

A wall of lotuses and lush tropical trees obscured the rectangular pool from view. Celeste Ayi sprawled across an oversized canopy bed.

A sunhat with a brim wide enough to umbrella an entire building hid her face. She sipped a tropical cocktail, turning a page of the Vogue in her lap.

I descended one of the double stairs from the balcony, stopping a foot shy of her. The assistant raced after me, but I was taller, faster, and fueled by enough fury to last a lifetime.

“Zhao Yu Ting.”

She peered up from the magazine, not even remotely surprised to see me. “Zachary. My favorite nephew.”

“Your only nephew.”

She waved her hand, flipping a page. “Don’t remind me. You know I love the variety. How was the flight here?”

She didn’t even ask how I knew they were there. These women knew I’d hunt them down to get the information I wanted.

I considered hounding Ayi for it, but now that I’d arrived, my bloodthirst wanted it straight from the horse’s mouth.

My jaw ticked. “Where’s Mom?”

I was dog-tired, jet-lagged, and hadn’t spoken to Farrow in almost a month.

With a sigh, Celeste Ayi unfastened the satin knot holding her hat, depositing it beside her.

She tilted her sunglasses down, catching my gaze. “You do not want to speak to your mother right now.”

“Why not?”

“Why?” She huffed, slapping a hand to her throat. “Well, isn’t the answer obvious? She thinks you’re about to make the worst mistake of your life.”

“Is this about embarrassing the family? Because my entire family consists of three people. Myself included.”

“Nonsense. We have extended family. There are at least two hundred of us.” She shot up, side-eyeing the poor assistant behind me as if she’d expected her to fight me off with fists. “And no. She thinks you’ll die a gruesome death if you don’t marry someone willing to listen to every safety instruction she provides. Remember when Natalie’s brain short-circuited, and she bought your Stefano Riccis from the mall instead of straight from the flagship? Your mom slipped red ginseng into your tea for a week. She feared you’d die of complications from hand, foot, and mouth disease.”

I followed her inside to the kitchen. “You’re shitting me.”

For the most part, I always figured her anxiety stemmed from the sudden violent death of her husband… but Mom genuinely thought I’d croak if I wore the wrong shoes?

“Would I lie to you?”

“Yes. All the damn time.”

I’d spent every year of preschool believing all the toy stores in Potomac had gone up in flames, just because my aunt preferred spending time at the mall than babysitting me.

“Maybe.” Ayi shrugged. She didn’t actually care. “But I’m not lying about this, Zachary. Falling in love is like swimming too far from the shore. The moment you realize the danger you’re in, it’s too late. It’s safer not to swim at all.”

“Mom thinks this?”

“Ask her yourself. You never bothered.”

I froze, realizing she had a point. The idea of discussing anything serious with Mom made me want to change my name and move to Alaska.

Not as if I felt the cold anyway.

Well, pre-Farrow.

“Forcing me into a loveless marriage isn’t about our legacy?”

“Legacy? Reputation?” Ayi waved a hand, flicking on the espresso machine. “I’m impressive enough to carry on the legacies of every family in Chiang Mai. We don’t need a Fortune 100 CEO to do that. Anyone ever tell you you’re a bit boring? If anything, that’s dragging down our reputation.”

“You’re stalling.” I snatched the cup from her, sloshing brown liquid all over the counter as I set it down. “And I’m not leaving. May as well tell me where Mom is.”

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes, debating between the jackfruit, longan, and lychee on the counter. “Getting a facial in the master. Don’t tell her I pointed you in her direction.”

“Thank you, Ayi.”

“You’re welcome, shǎ háizi.”

I treaded down the vast corridor, knocking on the master bedroom door.

No response.

I rattled it louder this time. A sigh came from the other side.

“If it’s my son, I’m not here. If it’s room service, leave it at the door.”

She was about to get served, all right. A nice dose of reality.

I pushed the heavy door open, coming face-to-face with my mother. She laid flat on her stomach on a massage table as two young female masseuses served her.

A towel shielded her—thankfully—as she typed on her laptop in front of her.

Meditation, my ass.

This woman sought peace like I sought more sex-addicted friends (sorry, Ollie).

To the sight of her only child, Mom snapped her laptop shut with a frown.

“Oh.” She rose to a sitting position, shooing away the women. “It’s you.”

“Mom.” I opened my arms, feigning a smile. Meanwhile, my anger spiked at her impromptu trip while my life was crumbling to ashes. “So happy to see you.”

She crossed her legs, bringing her glass to her lips and sipping through a straw. “It wounds me to the core that you aren’t happy to see your mother.”

I circled the massage table, zeroing in on her face. “It wounds me to the core that you’ve chosen to ruin any chance of happiness in my life.”

She choked on the water, coughing as her eyes snapped up to meet mine. I never confronted her before. I was always cordial, understanding, and obedient.

My way of apologizing for killing her husband.

Mom set her cup down. “Excuse me?”

“You are, in fact, not excused.” I sat on a bench under the window overlooking the pool. This would be a long talk. “Since Dad died, I’ve tried to be the perfect son to compensate for killing him.”

“You didn’t kill him⁠—”

“I did, and we know it. His side of the car remained mostly undamaged after the accident. If he stayed there, he’d be alive. That rake should’ve pierced my chest, not his.”

She swallowed, turning away. Nothing she could say in the face of the ugly truth.

“After you snapped out of your grief⁠—”

“I haven’t.” She shrugged her robe on, staring off into the wall. “I haven’t snapped out of my grief.”

“Fair enough.” I believed it, because neither had I. “After you became functional again,” I corrected, “Ayi and I agreed not to rock the boat. We didn’t want to trigger a relapse.”

“I’m not broken.” She crossed her arms, still too stubborn to admit what had happened. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

I ignored her, edging forward toward the nightstand. “At the time, I didn’t know that signing this unwritten contract would condemn me to a life of following unreasonable demand after unreasonable demand. Not because I agreed with them, but because I needed to atone for my sin.”

“You’re not a sinner.” She brought her index fingers to her temples, massaging. “There’s no sin to atone for.”

“There is, but I’m done atoning for it. I’m not marrying Eileen.”

Mom hopped off the massage table. “Eileen is safe.”

“Eileen isn’t for me.”

In fact, Eileen is more suitable for a career in Witness Protection.

“And that woman is?” Mom rounded on me and stubbed her thumb in her chest. “Since the accident, I rearranged my entire life to make sure you’re safe. That nothing like the crash ever happens again. That you ate the safest food, spent time with the safest crowds, drove the safest cars. And look at you now. You’re alive.”

“Yes, I’m alive. But I’m also miserable.”

Well, before Farrow…

“Where is this coming from?” Mom scrunched her nose as if I was a service provider she no longer wished to deal with. But I saw through her. I’d hit a nerve. “This is just pre-wedding jitters. They’ll subside after the wedding.”

I raised my palm to stop her, shaking my head. We stood face-to-face. So close I could smell the faint perfume that always clung to her skin. Of coconut oil and cherry blossom.

“I’m breaking off the engagement. End of discussion. That’s not why I gave this little speech. I just didn’t want you to feel blindsided.”

She pressed her lips into a hard line. “Blindsided by what?”

I had never seen her like this. So completely red, the skin on her neck jagged, like she was having an allergic reaction to our conversation.

“By the fact that I’m cutting ties with you, should you refuse to accept the end of my engagement.”

“What?” Her eyes bulged out of their sockets. “You can’t do that. I’m your mother.”

She put her hand on my shoulder. I tore it off me. I genuinely hoped that she’d come to her senses. It brought me no pleasure to sever our relationship.

At the end of the day, she did what she did because her husband died, just as I’d shied away from skin, rain, and cars after losing Dad.

“You forfeited the right to identify yourself as such when you emotionally blackmailed me into marrying someone you knew I didn’t love. I accept my responsibility in letting you do that, but make no mistake—I will never let your fears dictate my happiness again.”

Or my own trauma, for that matter.

Mom floundered, searching for words to say and coming up short.

I collected her phone off the nightstand and waved it, certain Eileen’s location resided inside. “Oh, and that woman’s name is Farrow. And I plan on making her my wife.”

Since I’d said what I had come to say, I pivoted, headed to the door. The thud of my loafers echoed in the eerie silence.

Suddenly, a set of feet joined them.

“You can’t cut ties with me.” Mom tried to grip the sleeve of my shirt. Sweat seeped into the fabric from her clammy paws. “And you certainly cannot marry that woman.”

I swiveled in the corridor, baring my teeth at her. “I’ve made my decision.”

This time, I picked up pace.

She yelped, running after me. We passed by Celeste Ayi in the living room, who cocked her head, curious. I flung the exit open and started down the stairs when I heard my mother squeak behind me.

“Wait.”

Nothing in me wanted to turn and give her the time of day, especially considering the looming deadline. Still, I swiveled on my feet, anyway, watching her at the top of the stairs.

She clutched the lapels of her robe, her other hand braced against the doorframe. As if she couldn’t keep herself up on her feet.

I tightened my grip on her stolen phone. “What?”

“I can’t…” She closed her eyes. Then, silence.

I glanced at my watch. “Can’t what?”

I needed to end the engagement with Eileen as soon as possible.

“Can’t…” Mom’s eyes shot open. Wide and bulging.

She looked surprised for a second, as though she’d seen something she hadn’t expected to see.

“Out with it, Mom.”

But instead of answering me, she collapsed on top of her legs, like a fawn trying to take its first step, tumbled down to the floor, and died.