I’m being strangled. I can’t speak, or breathe, or do anything except stand here and stare at the man I once called my brother.
“The baby is mine. I guess even after I stuck a needle in her, she was strong enough to stay alive and to keep the baby. Surprising, to be honest.” He stares at his nails, feigning disinterest. “I thought she was going to die.”
The words hit me like bullets, knocking me back as they pierce my body. Wheezing as I inhale, I stumble back. “What?”
“Margot always seemed like a crafty woman. Smart.” Beckett grins, lifting his eyes up to mine. “I guess since she couldn’t be with me or Luca, she chose the next best thing.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” He arches an eyebrow, his steely eyes trained on me.
“It’s not true. You’re just trying to break this family apart. You couldn’t get to Luca, you couldn’t have Cara, so now you’re going after me.”
Beckett shrugs, his eyes still staring into mine. “Ask her.”
“Why should I?”
“Because you already know it’s true.”
If I was in my right mind, I would chase after my half-brother. I’d tackle him to the ground and call for help. I’d knock him out and drag him back to the palace.
I’d be a hero.
Instead, I just stand there, mouth agape, watching him walk away.
In one, quick revelation, Beckett has made my entire world crash around me.
If the baby is Beckett’s, then it makes sense that Margot wouldn’t want to reveal it. Maybe Beckett is right, and she’s just been using me for my title. She couldn’t have Luca, because he wasn’t interested. She couldn’t have Beckett, because he betrayed us.
So, she chose me.
Lucky last.
She did exactly what my mother did, jumping from one brother to the next. Getting knocked up and not caring about the consequences.
I shake my head. It can’t be true. She told me she loved me. I saw it in her eyes. It’s real. Our love is real. Our connection is true.
But—she’s a world-renown actress. She could have been faking the whole thing.
My mind whirls, bouncing from one idea to the next. Back and forth, I move between trusting Margot and hating that she’s used me.
Stumbling across the beach, I lose my footing and fall to my knees. Sand clings to my damp legs, covering my body as I stand up again. Staring at myself, I frown. I drag my feet all the way back to the palace, ignoring the pool attendant.
Once I get inside the castle, all my senses jolt back to reality. I rush through the hallways toward the main dining room, where I know Theo will be.
He looks up when I burst through the door. “Beckett’s here. He came up to me at the beach.”
Theo’s chair clatters to the floor as he stands up. With one wave of the hand, he sends guards rushing down the hallway.
Between gulping breaths, I tell him where I saw Beckett.
I don’t tell him about the revelation. I don’t tell him about the baby. I don’t tell him that my heart is breaking.
For that, I need to see Margot.
In a haze, I stumble out of the dining room and down the hallway toward my chambers. Toward Margot.
Toward the truth.
25
Margot
Dante’s eyes are blazing when he storms through the door. He stands in the middle of the room, staring at me. His chest heaves and his hands clench and unclench, over and over again.
He doesn’t have to say a word.
He knows.
My heart shatters slowly, bit by bit. One piece at a time, it crumbles in my chest, because I know whatever happened between Dante and me is over.
I stand slowly, forcing myself to drag my eyes up to his. My lip trembles, and I will it to stop. I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood, waiting for him to speak.
“Is it true?”
“Is what true?” I ask, already knowing what he means.
“Is Beckett the father?”
In that moment, my world ends. Once again, I was too much of a coward to tell him the truth. He could take the revelation of my pregnancy and tell me that he’d be by my side, but he can’t take this.
Why would he?
The air between us thickens. I can’t move. A weight settles on my chest, and I find it hard to take a full breath.
My baby, which had been kicking merrily all morning, is still. Waiting. Listening.
Dipping my chin down ever so slightly, I nod. “Yes.”
Prince Dante’s face crumples, and the sight of his anguish pierces me like