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“No one knew. And no one will know,” my father insisted. “We’re careful. Everything was taken care of.”
“But you weren’t careful,” Christine argued. “King Frederick found out, and now August is in danger.”
My father rolled his eyes. “Augustus had the world handed to him on a silver platter. If he can’t figure it out, then he wasn’t worthy of it in the first place.”
I tugged at my collar. “Are you sure no one knows?”
“Positive. The only people that know are in this room or are in hell.”
Pacing the room, I went over everything. Something wasn’t adding up. It was possible Lord Nathan was spreading coincidental rumors, but I doubted it. He was too cocky. Too egotistical. Someone leaked Augustus’s bloodline to him, and I needed to know who. Fast.
“You could always ask Lord Nathan yourself,” my father said while leaning back in his chair. “How about instead of interrogating your father, you go out and eliminate the threat? I’m not the enemy here; it doesn’t matter who knows as long as they’re taken care of. I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”
I straightened my tie. “I just want us all to have the full story before I make my move. If Lord Nathan has information about our family, I want to be prepared.”
“Does August know?” Christine asked softly.
My father answered before I could. “No. That idiot can’t know. I don’t trust him not to get high and tell the paparazzi. Goes to show you can have all the proper breeding, but it takes a firm hand to raise someone worthy of your name. Frederick ruined that boy. He could have had it all.”
Christine shot up from her seat. “I’ve heard enough.”
I watched her run out of the room as if it were on fire, rage building within me with every inch of distance she put between us. I turned to my father. “We’re not done.”
He smirked at me. “Don’t let that woman ruin you, Atticus. Don’t let her spoil all our hard work. The ones that fight back are entertaining but not worth the effort. I’ve let you play your games because I think it’s important to battle for what you want, but at the end of the day, I expect better of you.”
I clenched my fists at my side. “I know exactly what you expect of me, Father,” I snapped before fleeing the room after Christine.
Her bare feet padded across the hardwood floors, her long hair flowing behind her as she swiped at the stray tears falling down her cheeks. I’d been worried about this. It was too much. Too soon. I’d made her invincible, but it didn’t stop the trauma from seeping in. It was like a tumor, growing slowly and taking over her soul.
“Christine!” I called as she ran to my bedroom and slammed the door shut. I reached for the handle and ripped it open just as she stopped in front of the window.
“You killed Frederick,” she whispered while staring out at the castle in the distance. She was breathing heavily.
“I know you wanted to do it…”
She looked at me, her eyes glistening. “Tell me, Atticus…did you kill him for me or for August?”
I sighed. “The truth?”
“Always give me the truth,” she replied.
“Both. I killed him for the woman I love,” I said softly, while taking a step toward her. “And I killed him to protect my brother.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “Atticus. All this time, you’ve been protecting all of us, haven’t you?” Christine took a step toward me. “Rising up the ranks in your father’s empire.” Another step. “Making me stronger.” She took another step. “Building August up…”
“August is infuriating and self-destructive,” I snapped. He always had Christine’s attention. He had everything handed to him. Was given a life away from the responsibilities of a DuPont.
“And yet you care for him,” she whispered.
I reached out to tuck a fallen blonde hair behind her ear. “And yet I take care of anyone you love. I know you don’t want to be here. You want to be with him.”
“I want to be with all of you,” she whispered.
And that was the damning thing of it all. She was greedy like me, not stopping until she had everything her heart desired. And she deserved all of it.
She didn’t deserve Augustus right now, though. He had to man up. I had to let go. Leo had to step out of the shadows.
“Christine, I’m not the hero of this story,” I whispered. I’d dreamed for years of having her look at me this way. Like I could save her. Like I’d finally measured up.
