Page 8 of Owned By Royal

“Are you happy for me?”

The question catches me off guard because she sounds hopeful rather than defensive.

“When were you planning to tell me?” I ask instead. “Before tonight? After the wedding? Or was I supposed to read about your engagement online tomorrow morning?”

Her smile falters. “We wanted to be certain before saying anything.”

“So this has been going on for a while.”

She nods slowly. “Several months.”

Several months. While I was investigating Marco. While I was trying to prove he may have been responsible for Dad’s death.

“It’s only been three years since Dad died.”

Pain flickers across her face before she quickly composes herself. “I know exactly how long it’s been.”

“Do you?” My voice cracks despite my best efforts to keep it steady. “Because it feels like you’re replacing him.”

She lowers her eyes for a moment, and when she looks back at me, they’re glistening with restrained emotion.

“I loved your father,” she says softly. “I still do in many ways. There isn’t a single day that goes by where I don’t think about him. Sometimes I still expect to hear his car in the driveway or find one of his jackets hanging by the front door. Grief doesn’t disappear, Sierra. You simply learn how to carry it.”

The quiet honesty in her voice catches me off guard, and guilt pricks at the edges of my anger because I know she’s telling the truth. But I also know that she’s materialistic and selfish. It shows in her spending habits and how she’d rather chose herself over and over.

“But eventually,” she continues, her fingers tightening around mine, “I realized your father wouldn’t have wanted me to spend the rest of my life alone. He would’ve wanted me to be happy again.”

“With Marco Madera?”

She hesitates just long enough for me to notice. “Yes.”

“I don’t understand how.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I do if you’re asking me to welcome him into our family.”

“I’m asking you to give him a chance.”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “You already know my answer.”

“Sierra...”

“No.” I gently pull my hand free. “I’m not happy about this engagement, and if I’m being honest, I don’t think you wanted my opinion in the first place. You’d already made your decision before inviting me here tonight.”

She sighs heavily. “I hoped you’d support me.”

I hold her gaze for several long seconds before shaking my head. I can’t tell her what I suspect. Not yet. Not until I have proof.

“I can’t.”

Disappointment settles across her features. “I think you’re letting your grief cloud your judgment.”

“And I think you’re letting his money and influence cloud yours.”

Her expression hardens. “That’s unfair. You think I’d marry someone because he’s wealthy?”

“I think you like what comes with being Mrs. Marco Madera. Just like you did with dad.” The words leave my mouth the instant I think them, and I regret them almost immediately.