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“I am concerned.”
I snickered, shaking my head. “No, you are scared.”
“Scared of what? Why would I be—”
“You might have Odette fooled with your fake little act, but I am far too old and have seen far too much to be tricked by you. You’ve been jealous of Odette your whole life. Everything she had, you would beg your father so you would have it too. And things she could not have, you purposely bragged about it in her face. And she never fought you on it because she cared about you so much. Something you know very well. Odette was never good at opening up to others, and you used that to your advantage. You pretend as if you care, you pretend as if you did not see or hear as your mother did one spiteful thing after another—after she stole my house, your sister’s childhood home, right from under us.” I snickered, shaking my head. “You are a snake, like your mother. And the only reason I did not come for you is that I knew my daughter was going to one day wake up and crush you herself. Lo and behold, I was right, which is why you are standing in front of me in mismatched socks and a sorry excuse of a twist out, terrified your sister is going to be the queen of a nation while you are just Mrs. Washington.”
“My mother was right about you,” she stammered out, but I wasn’t sure if it was shame, embarrassment, or anger. “You are nothing but a gold digger, a social climber, looking to be relevant in any way you can. Our father—”
“I will stop you there before you get yourself hurt. The past is the past, Augusta. The future is what matters. And in the future, I am the mother of the next Queen of Ersovia. So why would I care what you or your mother think? Don’t answer—that is a rhetorical question. Mr. Greensboro, please show Mrs. Washington to the door. I should stop talking before I say somethings that will really hurt her feelings,” I replied, turning away from her.
Augusta stomped out the room, slamming the door before Charles could talk to her.
“The nerve of that child.” I huffed, returning to my seat. “The training of their generation is absolute trash.”
“I blame their parents.”
“Oh, I do and—” I stopped when I saw the look on his face. “What? Why are you looking at me that?”
“Everything you said to that little girl was uncalled for. Do you have to be so cruel?”
“If the truth hurts, that is her problem.”
“And when you said ‘And in the future, I am the mother of the next Queen of Ersovia,’” he mocked, shaking his head at me. “Really, Wilhelmina?”
“What? It is not like I lied.”
“No, you just couldn’t wait to say it, though. I am sure you are just itching to run into Yvonne so you can say it a hundred more times.”
“Oh, will you please stop analyzing me. I know I am a flawed person, all right. But I have survived these many years as I am and do not plan on changing now. So, we need to use your energy for something more productive, like figuring out how to help my daughter through this hell.”
His shoulders dropped as he took a seat on the chair beside the couch. “Wilhelmina, at some point, you are going to have to accept that you cannot protect her from this.”
I did not want to believe that.
But the more I watched, the more I regretted ever helping them get together. I would gladly give up being the mother of the future Queen of Ersovia if it meant I did not have to watch my daughter get slandered all over the world by people who did not know her but thought they had a right to speak about her anyway.
Honestly, what have I done?
“People will see through the narrative the media is trying to push, right?” I whispered—no, begged him.
And he did not answer.
Because he knew that I knew the answer.
People only saw what they wanted to see.
The Morning Eagle
Friday, May 11
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“The King Does Not Approve!”
King Lionel abhors Odette Wyntor.
According to sources close to the palace, the king, whose health has taken an even greater turn for the worse over the last few months, could not be more upset with the Adelaar’s choice for a wife.
