Page 58 of Stolen Princess

I ignore that. It’s not helpful for me, and it only distracts from what I need answers to.

Me: Why did you need the alert? Why were you keeping me there?

My heart slams painfully against my ribs, picking up speed as the dots dance on my screen, indicating she’s typing.

Mother: My girl. It’s as I’ve always said. The world is a dangerous place. You may not see it, but it’s there. You’re at risk. You were taken from me once. I can’t have you taken again.

My eyes close. It is dangerous. My face indicates that, though it’s not that bad. Just the cut and some bruising. It would have been worse if Rhys hadn’t shown up. I know that.

Mother: He’s using you.

He was. I know he was. But I was using him too.

Me: What if he’s not?

I don’t know why I’m bothering. It doesn’t matter. But how the fuck would she know that, and why is it her automatic assumption? I had to beg Rhys to kiss me. He wouldn’t touch me even when I was touching myself. I was a mistake to him. All of it was. I just want someone to care, someone to want me, beyond their ulterior motives. Why does that seem impossible to have?

Mother: He doesn’t care about you. Why would he?

That pisses me off. If he didn’t care at all, he wouldn’t have gotten me this room, the car service, and the food. He’s not here. He left, and it’s better that way. But… part of him had to care a little, even if it was out of guilt.

Me: You don’t know that.

Mother: I do. He doesn’t want you. He wants what he thinks I have. He’s blackmailing me for it with your life as the bounty. He’s dangerous. You have to leave him and come home immediately. I’m serious, Genevieve. Your life is in danger with him.

A picture comes in, and it’s of a text exchange between Rhys and my mother talking about an exchange: me for a tiara.

Rhys: I do have your daughter. I want the tiara back. I know it was you who broke into my house and stole it.

Me: Bring her to me, and we’ll swap.

Rhys: Or proof of life for proof of life. You show me my tiara, and I’ll show you the girl. If you play ball, I won’t hurt or deflower your pretty virgin, and I’ll bring her back to you in one piece. If you don’t, I can’t guarantee either.

Then another picture comes in.

Me: Where are you on getting the tiara from my sister? I want my daughter back.

Rhys: I’m making progress. I’m close to tracking her down. I’m having my associate handle it. If she has the tiara, we have a deal. If she doesn’t, the girl is dead.

My breath lodges and emotion burns my face. I’m so naive. So gullible. That’s why he kissed me. Why he got me this room. Probably why he stepped in this morning and bandaged me up. He’s playing a game, and I’m the pawn. What a son of a bitch. Then again, he warned me. How many times have I had to remind myself only to forget just as fast?

But what tiara?

Then it hits me like a meteor. Princess Desta. Did she have a tiara? She must have. She’s a princess, right? Why would my mother or her sister I know nothing about—that’s a new one for me—have a tiara if I’m not the princess?

Could I really be her? All this time?

My stomach roils, and I start to sweat. Hot and cold and shivering and flushed. Bile climbs up the back of my throat, and I gag on it as it threatens to spray past my lips. I race for the bathroom and throw up violently into the toilet.

I heave and heave until there’s nothing left of me but retching and tears and fucking misery. Is there no one in my life who hasn’t betrayed me? Why would she tell me about the tiara? Does she think I’m that stupid? That I wouldn’t figure it out?

Does she have any clue what she just did? How foolish that was of her?

But then there’s the fact that Rhys knows my mother. She has his number, and he knows who she is. How does that work? Was this a ploy all along? Did he come to the cottage thinking she had this tiara there the entire time and stumbled upon me? Is that why he agreed to do this trip? Was he always working for her? Or was he going to kidnap me as ransom, and I played into his hands?

This was all a setup from the start, and I’m the fool stuck in between.

Where I thought I was free, I’m actually still caged.