Just feet from her door, a small black kitten lay dead on the floor. Blood matted its fur and pooled beneath it. A white envelope rested against the tiny body with Evangeline's name written on it in elegant handwriting, making the scene even more disturbing.
My chest tightened as I watched the color drain from her face. When she approached and reached for the envelope with a shaking hand, I grabbed her wrist gently but firmly. "Touch nothing," I growled, no longer worried about soundingprofessional. I was furious that someone would threaten her like this.
I pulled out my phone, ready to call in a full security team, but what she whispered next stopped me cold.
"I know what it says."
Her voice was filled with dread and certainty, but I could barely hear her speak. "It says,'I know what you've done, princess.'"
I turned to her slowly, full of questions, but the haunted look on her face kept me silent. There was raw fear in her eyes, but also something else—something darker and more secretive that worried me even more.
In that moment, as her past caught up with us, one thing became crystal clear—the princess had secrets, and they were dangerous ones.
Looking at her pale face, I knew two things for certain: someone was actively threatening her life, and there was something about her past she hadn't told me—something that might be the key to keeping her alive.
Chapter Thirteen
Evangeline
The lifeless kitten lay before me, its matted fur glistening with congealed blood. Beside it, an envelope bearing my name seemed to mock me, its crisp whiteness a jarring contrast to the macabre scene. The sight left me reeling; my breathing had resorted to ragged gasps.
But it wasn't just the brutality that shook me to my core. It was the message—the threat. Someone knew. Someone had discovered the secret I'd tried so desperately to hide, the guilt I'd carried for five years since that terrible night.
I know what you've done.
The words echoed in my mind, sending ice through my veins. Memories I'd fought to bury for years resurfaced—moments of shame and guilt that had nearly destroyed me once before, choices that had led to consequences I was still living with.
"Don't worry, princess. I've got you." James's gruff voice cut through the haze of panic, his presence solid and protective at my back—a stark contrast to the threatening message that seemed to mock my carefully constructed new life. I didn't want to face him and let him see the stark fear written all over my face.
"I... I'm fine. It's nothing." The lie tasted bitter on my tongue.
He scoffed, the sound harsh and disbelieving. "Right. 'Course it is. That's why you're shaking like a leaf and staring at that mess like it holds the secrets of the universe."
Shame burned in my stomach. He saw too much. Those piercing blue eyes seemed to see right through the perfect princess facade, straight to the scared girl beneath.
I couldn't let him see. I couldn't bear his judgment, the disappointment I knew I'd find in his gaze if he ever learned the truth of what I'd done, what had been done to me.
Squaring my shoulders, I fought to steady my voice. "I'm just tired. It's late, and this is… unsettling. I'd like to go inside now."
I made to step around him, but his hand shot out, fingers closing around my wrist in a firm but surprisingly gentle grip. The contact sent a jolt of unwelcome heat skittering up my arm, my traitorous pulse leaping beneath his touch.
"Not so fast, Princess." His eyes narrowed, his scrutiny palpable as a physical touch. "You know something. Something about all this. And you're gonna tell me what it is."
Panic flared anew, lodging in my throat. I couldn't. I couldn't voice my shame, couldn't confess my sins. Not to him. Not to anyone.
Wrenching my arm free, I stumbled back, needing distance and escaping that penetrating stare that seemed to see straight to my darkest secrets.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know anything about this. I swear it." The words tumbled out of me, too quickly, too desperate. "Please, I just want to go inside."
He stared at me for a long, charged moment; I could practically see the wheels turning behind those shrewd eyes, my imagination taking control of the calculations and suspicions that formed the longer we stood here.
At last, he gave a curt nod, his jaw tight. "Fine. But we're not done here, Princess." He spat my title like an epithet, his tone making it clear it was not a promise but a threat.
The next two weeks were suffocating. James tightened security to an extreme degree; his presence was constant and overwhelming. He followed me everywhere—to classes, meals, even waiting outside my bedroom door each morning. The bodyguard, who had kept a professional distance, was replaced by a man determined to uncover my secrets.
Every conversation between us crackled with tension. The careful civility we'd built disappeared. He questioned me daily, always circling back to that night, pressing for answers I didn't want to give him.
"You can't keep lying to me, Princess," he bit out again and again, fury and frustration rolling off him in palpable waves. "Something's going on here, something to do with you. And I will find out what it is, one way or the other."
