Vicious Prince: An Arranged Marriage Romance (Royal Elite Book 5)
Vicious Prince: Chapter 30

When the great Earl Edric Astor says he’s having a family meeting, everyone must drop to their knees and listen.

Well, not exactly, but something like that.

So we’re all here in the dining room. And by we, I mean, Mum, Eduard the fucker, Lars — because we’ve basically adopted him — and yours truly.

Mum sits at the head chair, or more like Dad sat her on it while he stands behind her. She’s wearing a beige dress that makes her appear paler, or maybe she’s been paler than usual.

Lars, like any adopted child, doesn’t want to tell me why Mum’s cold has been going on longer than ever. He’s after the parents’ favour.

But he still stands beside me, not taking a seat. It’s like he’s expecting an order of tea and wouldn’t want to miss it when it arrives.

Eduard is across from me, throwing a glance my way now and again. He’s wearing a purple suit that makes him look like a clown.

I shake my head at that image.

He keeps touching his tie, which means he’s nervous as fuck. He probably thinks I talked to Dad or something. I play a dick card and let him think that.

Be nervous, Ed.

I hope you stay nervous until the end of your miserable life.

I retrieve my phone discreetly under the table. There are text messages from my friends. I changed the group chat’s name to The Four Fuckers, like we’re four musketeers. Xan said there are only three musketeers and Cole just changed the name back to The Fuckers.

He has no imagination.

I try to pretend I’m interested in their texts, but I’m not, so I go straight to Teal’s messages.

Nothing.

Empty.

Nada.

She hasn’t acknowledged my existence since that night. Okay, so maybe throwing my childhood trauma on her all at once wasn’t my brightest moment.

And okay, admitting I have no pride when it comes to her is frowned upon in Ron Astor the Second’s playbook, but she’s not any girl.

She’s Teal.

I can’t fight the need to be with her every waking moment. I want to hold her, and maybe if I do so tightly enough, she’ll eventually open up to me, too.

Maybe she’ll feel safe enough to tell me why she puts up walls after we have sex or when she sleeps in my arms.

It can’t be the depravity — she loves that as much as I do. It’s a game we play, and it’s a damn good one at that. I hope to hell it’s not the performance, because Ron Astor the Second and his legendary size would take a rope to his neck, and that’d be a fucking tragedy.

Maybe I need to kidnap Knox and torture the answers out of him.

Or not.

Kidnapping and torturing your future brother-in-law is frowned upon in ninety-nine per cent of cultures.

Besides, I want her to be the one who tells me, not him.

But if she thinks she can run away from me by skipping school, she must not know me.

I’m an Astor. We don’t stop.

My great-great-grandfather brought his wife from Africa. When his family didn’t agree, he kind of gave them the middle finger and married her anyway. Or rather, he pestered her until she agreed to marry him.

I’m that type of Astor.

He camped out all the way in Africa — I’m lucky I just need to camp out in front of the Steel household.

“Ronan.”

I lift my head from my phone at Dad’s voice, realising I’ve been staring at the lack of texts for way too long.

“No phones,” Lars whispers. “How hard is it to follow that simple instruction, young lord?”

I glare at him and he feigns nonchalance, staring at Dad.

I grin, sliding the phone in my pocket. “Please, proceed. I apologise for my inadequate behaviour.”

Dad must sense the sarcasm in my overly posh tone, but he brushes it off. “We’re here because your mother and I need you to know a few things.”

“Another trip?” I scoff. “Oh, wait — is it the Maldives this time?”

“Mon chou…” Mum’s eyes fall downwards, and I wish I could somehow stab myself in the balls. The jab was supposed to be at Dad, not her. He’s the one who’s always whisking her off somewhere.

“Ronan,” Dad scolds.

I stand up. “I’m not interested in your destinations, Dad. Lars needs the details.”

“Don’t you need the dates, though?” Dad snaps back. “So you can throw your endless parties.”

“Lars…” I stare at him incredulously. “You bloody traitor.”

“Language,” Dad scolds. “And I’m speaking to you, not Lars. You really thought something could go on under my roof and I would know nothing about it?”

Yes, Dad. It already fucking happened.

It takes everything in me not to stare at Eduard. I’m trying to erase him from existence.

“What are you trying to prove with all those parties, Ronan? The drinking? The weed? The alcohol?” Dad’s voice turns more lethal with every word. “Do you think you’re a kid?”

“Not anymore,” I say, and this time, my eyes slide to Eduard. He squirms in his seat, smoothing out his tie.

“Take it easy, Edric.” He smiles, as if trying to alleviate the tension.

Fuck him.

And fuck Dad.

And even Lars, the fucking traitor.

“Stop it.” Mum’s voice turns brittle. “Please.”

In a second, Dad is by her side, grabbing her by the shoulder.

I turn to leave. I have no time for family drama, and if I spend one more second in the same room as Eduard the fucker, I’ll jam a knife in his throat, and once again, murder is frowned upon in ninety-nine per cent of cultures.

“Mon chou, don’t go,” Mum pleads.

“I’ll speak to you later, Mother.”

“There’s no later.” Dad’s booming voice stops me in my tracks. “She’s dying.”

I whirl around so fast I’m surprised I don’t fall on my face. The words he said echo like doom in the asphyxiating silence.

I see them in a different light now.

Dad placing his hands on my mother’s shoulders…her pale face and the tears gathering in her eyes…Lars staring at me with sorrow…

He knew.

He fucking knew.

“What did you just say?” I whisper.

“Your mother has uterine cancer, and she has always suffered from immunodeficiency disorder. The cancer relapsed a year ago, and the surgeries failed.”

“What do you mean they’ve failed? And why am I just learning about this now?”

“It was me.” Mum stands up and nearly drops back down. Fuck. When did she become this weak? Why haven’t I noticed that she usually only speaks to me while sitting or in her bed?

I run to her and force her to sit down then kneel by her side.

She strokes my hair back. “I asked your father and Lars not to tell you. You were my miracle, mon chou. When I first married your father, the doctor told me I couldn’t have kids because of my immunodeficiency disorder. Four years after, I found out I was pregnant and begged your father to let me bring you into the world. Nine months later, you came along, and I was the happiest woman alive. You gave me the privilege of being a mother. The moment the nurse put you in my arms, I cried like a baby while you smiled. It’s weird, isn’t it?”

Her voice catches, and something in my throat does, too. “The cancer started when you were around eight and we thought we got rid of it back then, but it came back last year. That’s why we’ve been going on those trips, mon chou. You’re so young and lively, and I didn’t want to put this burden on you.”

“Burden?” My voice breaks. “What are you talking about? You’re my mother.”

“It’s because I’m your mother that I have to protect you.” A tear falls down her cheek. “But I can’t disappear from your life anymore. I hate it more than anything in the world.”

“You won’t.” I stare at Dad, who’s watching us with furrowed brows.

“We have results to pick up next week,” he says.

“That’s good news, right?” I stare between them, and the silence nearly suffocates me.

“The doctors said I only have a fifteen per cent chance of survival, and I failed on a fifty per cent chance before, so we don’t have much hope.”

“But…but there’s chemotherapy and—”

“No,” Mum cuts me off. “I’m not doing chemo again.”

“She’s refusing that.” Dad’s forehead scrunches.

“And you’re agreeing?” I snap.

“Chemo will only keep me away from you, and then I will die in pain without seeing your face.” She cups my cheek. “I don’t want that.”

“I won’t leave your side.” I grab her hands harder. “Don’t do this, Mother. You can’t leave me. I’m your miracle, remember?”

“It’s because you’re my miracle that I want to spend whatever time I have left with you…” She trails off, a sob catching in her throat. “Please, I’m begging you and Edric to not take this away from me.”

She brushes a trembling kiss on my temple, and her tears drop onto my cheeks as she stands up and starts to leave the room. I try to help her, but Dad holds me back with an arm on my shoulder.

Instead, he motions at Lars to follow her.

“She feels weak when she can’t walk on her own,” Dad tells me after she disappears. “The therapist says to be there for her without making her feel weak.”

“How could you not tell me this?” I throw all my anger and frustration on my father. “How could you keep me in the dark about something as important as this?”

“You heard her. She wanted it this way.”

“Or maybe you made her believe she wanted it. After all, the decisions are always yours and everyone else has to follow.”

“Ronan, I understand this is hard for you —”

“Hard.” I laugh. “Try something stronger than fucking hard.”

“Edric, I’ll just…” Eduard motions at the entrance.

The fuck.

I forgot he was here all along.

“No, wait.” Dad motions at him. “I need to discuss business decisions with you. Stay the night.”

“Business decisions,” I scoff. “With dear Uncle Ed.”

“Maybe you need to cool your head, Ronan,” Dad says.

“Fucking maybe.”

I throw one last glare at Eduard before I storm out of the dining room. I go straight to my parents’ bedroom, but Lars stops me before I go in, telling me Mum needs rest.

I tell him we’re not speaking until he dies then I go to my room, open my laptop, and search everything about my mum’s condition. Then I stop and catch my breath, because sometimes, as I read about the effects and the shit she went through, I feel like there’s no air in the room.

I spend an entire night like that, researching then staring at the ceiling, thinking I’ll lose my mum then going back to researching again.

In the early morning, I go to Lars and tell him we’re calling a truce so he can tell me all he knows. Apparently, on that nightmare night, Mum and Dad didn’t leave me because of a Halloween party, but because Mum had intense pain, and as soon as they got to the hospital, she was admitted and diagnosed.

All the overseas trips were to a private clinic where Mum had to stay with her regular doctor.

The reason they came back after the last surgery is because Mum couldn’t take staying in the hospital anymore and wanted to be with me.

Her depression has been reduced since they returned, which her doctor says is a good sign, but they won’t know anything until the test results come out.

“Not telling you was entirely her ladyship’s choice,” Lars tells me after he’s done with his retelling. “Don’t blame your father for it. He’s suffering as much as her. Why do you think he has that scoundrel taking care of business? It’s so he can devote all his attention to your mother.”

I point a finger at him. “Truce over. We’re not on speaking terms.”

“Tea?” He offers me a cup.

“Not speaking, Lars.” I leave his kitchen, and just like that, I replace myself in front of her room again.

I place a hand on the door, and for a second, I feel like that kid who called her name and got no reply in return.

I can live in a world where I’m protecting Mum by burying the truth inside, but how can I live in a world where she doesn’t exist?

I have no idea how long I stand there, breathing harshly, feeling as if I’m about to combust.

It’s long enough that I slide down to the floor in front of the door with my back to the doorframe. It’s long enough that I relive all the stories she used to tell me when I was a child.

They all had happy endings, because she has always been a romantic at heart.

She always loved too much, cared too much, so why the fuck is this happening to her?

Charlotte Astor is one of the good ones. She does charity. She gives and gives and takes nothing in return. She loves and cares, so why the fuck did cancer choose her? Why didn’t it hit a lowlife like Ed?

Or even me?

I pull out my phone and go straight to my conversation with Teal. There’s no new text.

It doesn’t matter. I can call her, visit her.

Fuck my pride.

I need her like I’ve never needed anything before. I just need to hug her, and that’s it.

A hug.

I call her, but she doesn’t pick up.

If she’s grown attached to clingy texts then that’s what she’ll get.

“Sir.” Lars’s shadow falls on me.

“We’re still not talking.”

“Sir.”

“And I don’t want fucking tea.”

“Ronan,” he says sharply.

“What?” I snap, finally looking up at him.

He holds out a folded piece of cream-coloured paper.

“I don’t know where my father is. Sorry — his lordship.”

“He went out for an early-morning meeting.” Lars thrusts the letter in my face. “This came for you.”

For me? Who the fuck sends letters anymore?

“Who is it from?” I ask.

“Miss Teal.” Lars raises an eyebrow. “She left with his lordship.”

Teal sent me a letter then went somewhere with Dad? Why would she do that?

Ah, fuck.

She’s not thinking about ending the engagement, is she?

I open the letter, and my heart nearly stops beating.